I'm tired.
It's not lack of sleep, and I'm aware that my pills are affectionately named dopamax, or stupamax, by some who take them, because of a certain dulling effect that they have on one, but I don't think it's that either.
I think that summer is coming.
My psychiatrist tells me that summer is a much easier time of year for 'people like me' -- that those of us who are classically bipolar feel the pressure lift in the summer months, and that urgent drive to do whatever-it-is during the early spring and autumn suddenly lifts during the summer, and we can relax.
So I think that is what I am 'suffering' from now.
It's a curious feeling.
A weird sensation of not really having to do anything.
I keep trying to work out if this is what 'normal' people feel like most of the time.
It's very odd, but it's early days yet.
Maybe I'll try more sleep, and June, and see how I am after that.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Slow Death
Well it took a lot longer than I thought it would, but I think we are finally there.
Imminent visit to his brother was the final nail in the coffin; he can't possibly cope with family and communicating with me, we've seen that before.
So something had to give.
And the something was me.
I'm not surprised, or even that sorry. I know it might just be a delayed reaction thing.
Or it might just be a been there, done that, don't care thing.
***
My only regret is that he has now (finally) last night come off anti-psychotics and started on lithium. Finally there might have been some improvement in his mood / condition / whatever. And he was finally going to get some kind of psychological assessment, and get some therapy. After six months of saying it was urgent and he was going to do something about it, it was finally going to happen.
But I won't be around to see it.
Maybe, eventually, it all just got too complex. I didn't want to be around for the unravelling. I don't know.
***
I wouldn't be surprised if there are some final death throes.
Some dead things just don't know when to lie down.
***
Given all the above, my own head-weather is surprisingly good.
Imminent visit to his brother was the final nail in the coffin; he can't possibly cope with family and communicating with me, we've seen that before.
So something had to give.
And the something was me.
I'm not surprised, or even that sorry. I know it might just be a delayed reaction thing.
Or it might just be a been there, done that, don't care thing.
***
My only regret is that he has now (finally) last night come off anti-psychotics and started on lithium. Finally there might have been some improvement in his mood / condition / whatever. And he was finally going to get some kind of psychological assessment, and get some therapy. After six months of saying it was urgent and he was going to do something about it, it was finally going to happen.
But I won't be around to see it.
Maybe, eventually, it all just got too complex. I didn't want to be around for the unravelling. I don't know.
***
I wouldn't be surprised if there are some final death throes.
Some dead things just don't know when to lie down.
***
Given all the above, my own head-weather is surprisingly good.
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