Working It All Out

There was a wonderful B.Kliban cartoon of some old bald guy leaning up against a woman's naked butt. He peered vaguely into the distance, as if pondering some great universal problem. He was probably thinking, "I hope she doesn't fart", but the title was "Working It All Out."

I've been working some things out.

For example - I'm still working on this bipolar business.

I am trying to be much better about taking my meds. I don't deliberately not take them, it's just by the time I get around to the last dose of the day, I know one of them will make me wired.

Did you know that most people with bipolar disorder usually wind up taking at least three different kinds of meds?

1. The mood stabilizer. This probably began its pharmaceutical life as an anti-seizure medication.
2. The anti-depressant. This is very tricky business, figuring out what to give a bipolar person. I saw both Emma and a now-distant nut job go through absolute hell when they took Prozac. I took Prozac with no problems, but it flips some people into an instant and fierce mania. This wasn't recognized when Prozac first came out. But now those great minds at the APA have figured out to go easy with this.
3. The tranquilizer.

If you understand aeronautics engineering and the concept of 'lift', you probably understand the crucial combination of these three meds. I was missing the mood stabilizer. In fact, I'm still not sure it's the right one for me and must discuss with Dr. Yeow.

Anyway, over the last year, I've realized that I needed to pull myself back, way back from people. And organizations. This is why I quit the Speechifiers and the Library Friends' Board of Directors.  I had a couple of other things going on, too, but I can't remember what they were.

During the week, I'm at work by seven. I come home and might stop at the grocery store or pet shop on my way. I'm in and I stay in.

On the weekends, I may wend my way past the library and the grocery store, but especially during the hot weather we've been having, I tend to stay home.

I like home. Despite the mess and chaos, I like it here.

What I'm doing, really, is trying to minimize any blast damage. Little explosions happen without my even being aware of them. I give dirty looks and stink eyes without knowing it. I act weird without knowing it. It all makes perfect sense in my head. Oh, if I don't want to take the chance of going toe-to-toe with Tinkerbell in a meeting, I need to keep my freaking mouth shut. Unfortunately, this comes off as being cold, distant, and disinterested.

There were so many times in the distant past when I walked away from Xman during one of our many arguments. I walked away or I got into the car to go to the mall or I went to a movie. I just needed to get out of the house, out of his presence, or I knew I would explode and to me, it meant we would have the knock-down drag-out of all time. What I eventually learned to say was, "I'm really upset. I can't talk about this now. Can we talk about this tomorrow morning?" I didn't say it often enough, but it worked.

Now that I have deliberately isolated myself - and have been isolated - I need to figure out how to have the most normal relationships with people that I can. This is why I have Dr. A.

By the way, her most reason advice to me:
Oh, for crying out loud, take two week days and go to the Borgata! (Cheapest midweek and I never go for the gambling.) And I think you should spend a week with the nuns at Happy Valley! Do both! Plan on going to Goa in a couple of years. Save for it. (Did I mention I now have a bug about seeing Goa? This despite learning that not one scene of "Guzaarish" was filmed in Goa. And apparently I am the last person on earth to learn about Goa.)

I recognize that I am still limited with some things. I find it difficult to deal with more than one person at a time on a friendly outing. The most I could manage would be the Queen Bee and the Prince Consort.

I have also known for a while that I can only do overtime at work if someone has an axe over my neck. I've been assigned to work on Urgent Project A for "a minimum of two hours every day, going forward". So I put in four to six hours a day on it. Yes, my other work gets down too. That's a little more flexible. The amount of work I do for Urgent Project A depends on when the manager gets me the information I need to do my work.

Today, I left a little before 4 p.m. and before I left, went over to the manager to show her what remained of the day's work.

She stared up at me. "Where are you going?" (To which I thought, but said nothing, what do you mean, where am I going? It's been at least...well...never...since a boss asked where I was going. This took me aback a little.)

"Home."

"Home! But it's not even four o'clock!"

"I got here at seven." And I did spend four hours working on her project. I have a feeling they're all going to be in there tomorrow, but Homegirl here does not get paid over time and all the clerical types do. If pushed to a wall, I would give whatever was demanded of me in blood, but I have learned that once they get the taste of my blood, they tend to like it and come back for more.

She shrugged eventually and I wished her a good weekend.

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I was really disappointed in an episode of "Medium", to the point where it actually threatens my enjoyment of future episodes. It's really borne of ignorance. Or maybe I'm the ignorant one. It turned out that Joe's boss, the brilliant punk kid, was bipolar and had gone off his meds just as he was supposed to make a big presentation in front of a governmental agency. The president of the company comes in, sighing heavily at Joe and says solemnly, "Keith is bipolar. And, well, sometimes he thinks  that his thinking is clearer if he goes off his meds. Luckily, General Smith understands about this incident, but there's no way that they're going to want someone on heavy duty medication like that on a project this sensitive."

So yeah, I'm going to run right to HR with the diagnosis. Not.

I'm trying not to be too crazy. The bad thing about this is distinguishing between a bipolar moment (or two) or a naturally sad or happy mood.

I'd forgotten my mp3 player yesterday so had to go through the day listening to the incessant chatter of the print room and the party in the kitchen (just the general lunch party, nothing in particular). Today, I had the mp3 player with me and plugged it in and there was this succession of one great song after another on Pandora. Sheryl Crow, Bonnie Raitt, Fleetwood Mac ("Silver Spring"), the Dixie Chicks ("Landslide"), Stevie Nicks ("Landslide" again), Fleetwood Mac ("Landslide"), Sheryl Crow and Chrissy Hinde, more Bonnie Raitt, then! Then "Come Go With Me". And "In the Jungle". And "Under the Boardwalk". And James Taylor singing "Up on the Roof". And the killer, my latest fave, the Beach Boys, "That's Why God Made the Radio." Not to mention "Day-O!".

I was so happy. The music was so great. I've mentioned before how much I really wish I could sing and I ached to be able to sing along (not that I would at work, anyway). It was fun and it made the work a little easier and my head ache a little less. I suppose it would be mania or hypomania if I did start to sing along or if I went out and signed up again for piano lessons when I know there's no way my budget could stretch to cover them.

So. Yes. Still working it all out. Because I do not want the cray-cray. I just need to learn the difference between being stable and flat-lining.