I met a good friend of mine for breakfast this morning. She is well aware of my recent struggles, so much so that she actually brought me her old punching bag (No, not her husband!), so that I could take out some of my extra energy by using it. While I waited for her to arrive at the diner where we usually meet, I called another good friend of mine to talk for a while. Well, I did most of the talking because I am so revved up today! I rambled on and on about my therapy appointment last night, the impossibility of me taking a yoga class to help me to calm down, the various blogs I have posted, funny, well not so funny, things I am remembering I did in the past, how I feel that I need to let my kids school know what’s going on so they can offer my two sons additional support if necessary, God, prayer, and I can’t even remember what else. Needless to say, when my friend hung up the phone, I am sure she was exhausted!
I’ve been reading many books lately and there was a passage in one that describes how when a person is in a manic state, their mouth cannot keep up with the words that want to come out, nor can their can their mouth keep up with their brains. I actually feel as if I am in a dream sometimes, watching and hearing myself. I can hear the speed at which my words flow from my mouth, and how one idea leads into another. It amazes me how rapidly I can explain something, and normally, I would see nothing wrong with this. I could not see my friend’s face over the phone, but today at breakfast, the reaction from my other friend was visible.
At times she looked at me with eyes that resembled the over medium eggs that sat untouched on my plate. At times she would just start laughing, most likely because it was hard for her to keep up. We laughed about the fact that I really did not need coffee even though I had two cups of it while we sat there. When the waiter came back to top off my last cup, I declined because I felt like I was going to come out of my skin with nervous energy! Don’t get me wrong, this is much better than the depression I intermittently go in and out of, and if I could keep this adrenaline or whatever it is pumping through my veins right now, I’d give any amount of money to do just that.
Sad part is I know there’s no way to do that. I can’t say this energy makes me feel good, though. It’s an abundance of nervous energy. I am having so many thoughts that I was worried I was not going to be able to sit down and write my blog today. I literally pace back and forth within the confines of my home. Sometimes I imagine my brain is like a boiling pot of pasta, you know the kind that when you walk away for even a minute, begins to foam and bubble and spill over onto the burner faster than you could ever imagine? I have memories, thoughts and feelings rushing back to me that I can barely process at times.
Last night as I sat in my therapist’s office, relaying the last week’s events without a breath, she also sat there quietly, more than likely because I did not allow her to get a word in edgewise. Finally, toward the end of our session, she said, “Lydia, you need to find a way to try and slow yourself down. What do you think would help? How about trying exercise? Up until the time you started the Lexapro (which I am no longer taking) you were running.”
I quickly responded (no doubt!), “I haven’t been exercising because the endorphins pump me up even higher. Can you even imagine if I was flying even higher? I can’t even sleep without taking my Ambien now.”
She then prodded to see what kind of music I listen to when I exercise or normally for that matter. I told her I love 90’s grunge rock: Rage Against the Machine, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Porno for Pyros, Nine Inch Nails, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, etc. She then informed me that this kind of music can over stimulate someone in my state. No shit! Why do you think I like it? She suggested a quiet 10 minute walk or yoga. I don’t think I have ever taken a quiet walk anywhere. Even if I was not listening to music, my mind is on overdrive constantly.
The thought of yoga gives me flashbacks of being incarcerated on the locked unit and being forced to participate in relaxation programs and guided imagery, which I hated. Most times I would be removed from such activities, certainly not to my dismay, because I would burst with inappropriate laughter. Honestly though, it was like torture being forced to sit in a circle and told to close my eyes and picture a beach and waves crashing! Are you kidding me? I am in a unit that has so much brown, I feel like a package on a UPS truck. I hated being forced to participate in that. I was subjected to watch Forest Gump (which I despise to this day – Sorry, fans) and make pot holders or stained glass sun catchers for my apartment windows which was sitting empty at the time, yet the rent continued to be there.
Yoga? No. Quiet walks? No. How about Pet Therapy? I do have a puppy, but I still think I have more energy than he does, especially since he is sound asleep on my couch right now. I guess the therapist’s, as well as my friend’s and husband’s biggest fear is the crash which inevitably will follow after flying this high, especially if they can’t get my meds right. They all keep trying to tell me, including my doctor, possibly hospitalization would benefit me and help to stabilize me, but after my experience in 1995, I am petrified to turn that power over to someone else. Seriously, who am I hurting shutting myself in my house, blasting inappropriate music for my condition and writing? No one. I still cook dinner for my family, get the laundry done, feed the animals and shower every day. No, I don’t eat as much as I used to, nor do I sleep like I had, but how can you when your brain doesn’t stop? I am just going to keep moving and forging ahead, avoiding hospitalization like the plague. I figure until I mistake my eyes for over medium eggs and begin to stab at them with my fork, I am just A-ok for now!