I’m manic.

Before anybody panics, don’t.  I’m manic but I’m not psychotic.  I have the best friends, family, and treatment team ever!  (Thanks, A and J!)  I had dinner with A Friday night and she said I seemed off.  I discussed it with J Friday night and by Saturday morning we decided that a call to my therapist shouldn’t wait till Monday.  She met with me on Saturday (because she’s super-cool in situations with crisis potential and because, as I said, I have the best treatment team ever). 

After I described what’s going on, she agreed that I’m manic, but not psychotic.  She seemed to marvel that I was so conscious of everything and she said that this is major progress in my ability to manage my illness.  She gave me three options:  1) go to the Local Friendly Mental Ward for an assessment, 2) go to the ER, 3) go home and have J monitor me very closely until Monday, when I could go for a walk-in appointment with my pdoc.  We got on the phone for a conference call with J and we decided together, because of finances, that I should go home to be monitored by J.  Both J and my therapist thought that I would be fine until Monday.

But on the way home, I changed my mind.  I know how quickly my psyche will turn on me when I’m in this state and how quickly I can move into a full-fledged psychosis.  It happens in the blink of an eye sometimes.  I also knew that J had scheduled church responsibilities and our children to watch, so I ultimately decided against the option of him watching me like hawk.  And besides, by the time J would realize things had turned for the worse, I would already be full-fledged psychotic.  The Local Friendly Mental Ward option seemed pointless since I’ve heard directly from them more than once that the inpatient admits only go through the ER. 

So, I opted to head straight from my therapist’s office to the ER.  The ER doc made me happy by giving me Risperdal, my old atypical anti-psychotic that’s proven itself to work when things get bad for me.  I was in and out of the ER in two and a half hours.

I came home and slept 11 hours Saturday evening and night.  Lots of sleep, along with the meds, helps me get my brain straightened out in times like this.  The mind-racing has already slowed some, even if my energy level hasn’t quite gone down yet.  Luckily, my night meds will put me to sleep.  I will take them in a few minutes. 

 Luckily, we had plans for the boys to go to daycare anyway this week, so I will have that responsibility lifted while I “calm down,” so to speak.   I will see my pdoc tomorrow and my therapist later in the week. 

I can’t get rid of bipolar disorder, but I sure can learn to manage it.  I insist on it.