The many manic mood swings of manda

Hi I don't have Internet at my new place so I'm doing this from my phone. Not too much more than 24 hours have passed since my parents picked me up from the hospital. I missed comic con, had my cousin respond vaguely to my new roommates about when I would be moving in, and also missed my friend's wedding among other things. I didn't plan this so well.  Haha.

They are probably going to up my meds again since I went on a little shopping spree today. I was all over the place again with my counselor; I'm always so aloof to that but now I see how frustrating it must be. I also wanted to do all of the things, make all of the art projects, and rearrange my room six times. The only way I can explain it is like a ray of sunlight bursting through the clouds, escaping through wherever it can, but also like a snowball gaining mass amidst an Avalanche. I'm still a little bit in denial but it is also like a missing puzzle piece snapping into place that I have been searching for my whole life.

Doctor: how long do your relationships usually last?
Me: 2 months every time with one exception
Doctor: *scribbles notes* (since this blog is about dating mostly I had to throw that in there)

13 days inpatient in a psychiatric hospital. I never thought I would end up there, but I feel pretty good about saying it will be a turning point. It felt so surreal. They admitted me into the acute wing where they house the 'milieu.' Think what you have seen in the movies when they portray a mental hospital. Pretty accurate. It was kind of dark and sad and they kept asking me if I felt safe. I almost cracked a joke about the other patients. But they don't take sarcasm so well in this place I later learned. Don't even think about joking about hurting yourself. Sometimes I say really dumb things. That landed me in a room with a camera and close observation.

When I was little I liked to play marbles. I put them in a Glad container and wrote on the lid.  "I'm glad to have all my marbles" I laughed about that as I sat there in blue scrubs in a room with a twin bed in the middle and a drain in the floor. I asked the tech if she was bringing me a straight jacket. She didn't think that was funny. The walls aren't padded either in case you were wondering. Luckily that was just one day. They moved me to the "moon unit"  (mood)  the next day and it was brighter and had the best view of the city and sunsets that looked like Lebanon. And weekend movie nights and popcorn. And hilarious people.  Who knew depressed people laughed so much.

Back to the marbles. I always wondered what it would feel like to lose your mind. I'm sure there are different ways, but in my case it was like my brain decided to make its own version of heroin and cocaine. It was fun being in touch with the universe, perceiving everything on a new level, seeing sounds and hearing colors. Poetry flowing out of me. Delusions of grandeur. My thoughts were delicious, visual, and then completely out of control. And then I couldn't feel my face. I remember thinking 'this is it, I've officially lost it' and then 'I can't live like this'  I knew I had to go to the hospital.

My car was parked in front of my cousins house for almost two weeks. Other cousins live in the basement and when they asked her why my car was there she just vaguely replied "she ran out of gas"  my mom was helping my unpack my room and she picked up something and started laughing. I asked her what was so funny and she said "you ran out of gas Hahaha"  so now I am laughing because I guess you could say I just ran out of gas literally and figuratively. Maybe it's just funny to me.

The diagnosis took them a lot longer than I thought it would. At first they thought it was a personality disorder, then an identity crisis, abandonment issues, watches too much adventure time and British television, etc. Really they should have just asked my high school friends, it would have saved them a lot of time. I always have to take things to the extreme somehow though. Proclaim my individuality, be a bit of a rebel, howl at the moon, do some cartwheels, etc. So this is my fun story about how I got diagnosed finally with bipolar disorder.

And additionally my story continues with how medication screwed me up and I realized that my mania was brought to you in part by mate (that argentine drink - inordinate amounts of caffeine) and the tipping point of the most stressors a person can handle in one year as well as probably a life. So I have now undiagnosed myself and am embracing my uniqueness (or what the doctors call crazy)  and working on the emotional control in healthy ways.