At the end of the day...

Tomorrow I am meeting with both my SPN and my psychiatrist because it is thought that I am hypomanic. My antipsychotics have already been increased and hopefully soon I will start to notice the difference. Needless to say, this has been going on for quite some time and I'm not in the joyful stage of it either.On the contrary, I'm in the negative and crazy making stage.

This afternoon, while I was taking a much needed nap on the sofa, Tyke killed the telephone that was resting on the coffee table so it would be within easy reach of me when my SPN called me back. Luckily, she had the number of my mobile phone and that is what woke me up. I viewed the disaster that used to be the telephone and saw the parts sticking out and Tyke wagging his tail and looking ever so innocent. What do you do but pick up the pieces and throw them in the trash? I doubt it would have done much good to get mad at him. 

He had also mauled my cigarettes and lighter that were lying beside the telephone and this necessitated a quick trip to the store to buy some new lighters, because it had been the last one I had. I could have cursed him for that, but the problem was easily solved. Buying a new telephone is a different matter all together and requires some cash output that I had not counted on this month. People are just going to have to call me on my mobile phone for a while. Everyone who is important has that number. I hardly get any phone calls anyway, nor do I make that many. A telephone is not high on my list of things that I absolutely can't live without.

Tonight I fell asleep on the sofa again, which is great because I'm suffering from a great shortage of sleep. I had not been able to sleep at night or during the day. I made sure my mobile phone was some place safe. I was not going to leave it lying around. God forbid! When I woke up, I felt better than I had in quite a while, but I know that's just a momentary thing and not to get my hopes up. I didn't feel that terrible urge to self medicate with coffee, although I am having some. It just seems less important now and not like my mood and everything else depend on it. 

I don't feel like going to bed now. I'm enjoying the moment too much. Not that it's completely free of stress, but it's much better than it has been lately. If and when I do get sleepy, I'm just going to move to the sofa. It won't be like I've officially gone to bed. For some reason that's important. It feels more liberating to sleep on the sofa. 

I just want to add that being manic depressive is a hard job. Even when I say I'm doing well, you have to remember that it's all relative to what is doing not well. I keep having to convince myself that the glass is half full when very often it is nearly empty. 

Ciao,
Nora