I can never tell when I’m hypomanic. I just feel good and so I think, great! I’m feeling good. I have energy. My brain is sparking. What a wonderful world.
And then I notice I’m chatty at work, I’m not going to bed because I just have to do one more thing, I’m up and at ’em after only 4 hours sleep. Ohmygod, its so good to have energy again. I am planning to start singles clubs and support groups. And then I get irritable. Well, I tell myself, that’s just ‘cos you haven’t been sleeping well lately. Hmmm, pause for thought….. And then I realise, I’m hypomanic.
No my life is not ringing with joy or fun or feeling fabulous. No, I’m presenting with a symptom of my mental illness. Oh yay.
Now if that doesn’t take the fun out of starting a singles club, then I just don’t know…
Actually I prefer, my buddy, blahpolar’s label – neurobiological disorder. Yes, I would definitely feel more comfortable saying that on a first date when my hands are shaking so furiously I can’t pick up the coffee cup without it sloshing all over me and the table. Me smiling broadly in my new red lipstick going “oh it’s fine, really I’m fine, this happens all the time…. neurobiological problems and all that….” and I’d continue the date blissfully unaware of the dry cappuchino mustache left on my upper lip.
Anyhoooo, as I was saying about being chatty…….