One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small…

As I have bipolar 1 disorder, I cannot take antidepressants. If I do I go into a mixed phase.

https://www.webmd.com/bipolar-disorder/mixed-bipolar-disorder

A mixed phase is something you don’t want to go into. It’s definitely worse than mania or depression separately. I know. I’ve been through many of them, for years I was erroneously given antidepressants. In fact, my bipolar 1 disorder was unmasked as a result of having been put on tricyclics, they pushed me into a full blown manic phase. I was Alice (the one in wonderland) people around me were various other characters.

So I have to take Lamictal as an antidepressant. I have a love hate relationship with Lamictal. Too little and the depressive symptoms will not abate. Too much and I start having manic symptoms. So it’s a very titrated dose. What makes it really fun is depending on my overall mood, the dose of Lamictal I need changes. So one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small… It’s not easy having bipolar and trying to be normal.

For example, very recently, I lowered my Lamictal dose because I thought I was getting too up. But this time, quite rapidly, I started sobbing, and felt like my heart was broken. Even though Llamictal inhibits the uptake of neurotransmitters, such as serotonin, dopamine, and adrenaline. All these are“happy“ neurotransmitters, decreasing their uptake will cause symptoms of depression. Especially dopamine, which is colloquially known as the love neurotransmitter, however decreasing the dose causes symptoms of heartbreak. This is counterintuitive, but that’s what happens to me. Maybe it’s just withdrawal? Anyway, I increased the dose again and literally in a day I started feeling better. I stopped crying, my heart didn’t feel shattered anymore. Just playing the dosing game every few weeks. And of course, I’m on lithium, luckily the worst thing it does to me is make my hand shake. And also if my blood levels get too high, then my hair starts falling out. I really don’t love that. But rather than the major mood upheaval, I suppose I would rather lose some hair. Not the best, but possibly not the worst either. I’m sure all of you know this already, gentle readers, but where the concentration of lithium is naturally high in water, there is a lower incidence of mood disorders as well as suicide. So lithium is an incredibly amazing element.

Sadly, as my mood gets better, the poems go away.

PS

Found this:, sorry couldn’t find a reference.

People who experience mixed episodes often describe them as the worst part of bipolar disorder. Mixed episodes can be especially serious because of the risk of suicide, and symptom management and supportive treatment are important. The recommended treatment for mixed episodes is similar to treating bipolar disorder itself and typically involves a combination of therapy and medication. 

You think you know me?

Hope I’m not overstating my virtues but you know the happy, the comical, the quick witted, the empathetic, the caring, the smiling me.

What about the stay in bed all day, exhausted me?

Or brain shut down except for the fear and anxiety centers me? Those never shut down.

Don’t want to eat? Just want to sleep me? just sleep.

The worry to death about my son me?

Why exactly am I here me? Just a thought, never any action taken. I have a son.

The sobbing about the cruelty of the world against a perfectly innocent group of people me?

Bipolar. The depth of emotions.

Will everything ever be okay? Will I be suffering the rest of my life? Tired. So tired.

Live in the past, you’ll be depressed. Live in the future, you will be anxious. Live in the moment, you will have peace. The moment is lost if you go to the past or the future. The moment, the now, the present. Live in the breath. It’s here but we forget. Why is it so difficult to live in the moment? Why is our attention constantly being pushed to the past or propelled to the future?

If I still had Gus Bear, I could have lived in the moment and been happy. But he’s gone.

So, now what? Hmmm, just anxiety. That’s all. Stomach churning, hard to breath, head full of swirling negative thoughts, fear, so much fear. How courageous do you have to be to live with all this fear? Is it me? Is it bipolar? How to parse, how to untangle? No idea. Don’t want to do it anyway. So tired of ruminating. My aim is to quiet my brain into utter silence. No thoughts. Nothing nagging at me. Nothing ratcheting up the fear. No unbearable anxiety. Possible? Hasn’t been till now.

But hope springs eternal.

Funny.

When I lived in Kentucky, I tutored the children of horse workers at Churchill Downs. I used to sneak into the barns of these miraculously gorgeous racehorses and feed them mints. They love mints. The horse in the first picture is trying to get mints from my purse 😅!!! They are stunningly beautiful. Endlessly lovable. Worth millions of dollars. I don’t like horse racing at all. However, I adore horses, all horses, no matter the price. Miss these babies. Hope they are loved and thriving. ❤️❤️❤️

The Aurora Borealis and Peace.

Ah brain, you betray me. Chemistry, you deceive me. Thoughts, you overwhelm me. Emotions, you frighten me. Peace, you elude me. Tranquility, you are lost to me.

I look for peace, I look so much for quiet, I do not find either. I will sit silently. I will breathe deeply. I will not let tears fall from my eyes. I will wait for happiness like a little bird who comes tapping at your window, or splashes in the birdbath, happy just to be. I will be happy just to be.

Strange, I start writing when I’m either starting to feel depressed or more often when I start to feel manicky. Physically, I’m fine. But my mind, my mind… Anxious, overthinking to a maddening degree, restless, painful. Well, here we are again. Seasons change and so do my moods. I live in paradise now, sadly, it doesn’t feel much like paradise. I want to run away, leave all these unsettling thoughts, emotions behind me. Unfortunately, I can’t run away from my brain. I’ve increased my lithium and decreased my Lamictal. I’ll be right as rain soon. I know I will. Happier thoughts tomorrow.

My poem

Life is so precious. 

Hang on with all your might, to the jars with fireflies inside. 

To the constellations in the skies. 

To tassels made of gold. 

To rosy cheeked cherubs. 

To the memories of old. 

To the creeks where silver horses drink their fill of water. 

To the azure skies and majestic clouds of home. 

Don’t despair, life holds promises never broken. 

Hope rises in your heart unbidden, never spoken. 

Beauty may be skin deep, yet it exists or existed. 

Pictures, yellowed with age, crinkled at the edges, yet they tell a story. 

Your story, my story, his story, her story. 

Framed in frames of gilt with etched spring flowers. 

Bunches of lilacs, roses, jasmine, the hours. 

Pain too is a part of life. You cannot escape it. 

Breath and sinew and muscles ever contracted, uplifted. 

Without knowing where you’re going, you must go. 

Never leave the road, not for stones or the dust that arose. 

Life, it is precious. How can you not know that? 

Hang on to it, with strong hands and take firm steps. 

Hope is your mantra, happiness a sigh. 

Love, the destination, peace ever up high. 

Trees, your soldiers, they will stand tall and strong. 

Stars a twinkling, streams with sweet, clear water, gurgling by. 

How could you forsake all these? Think of the gifts you’ve been given! 

The menageries, the mansions, with bowers, your children, yes, you’ve striven. 

Hang on, like the chrysalis inside its cocoon, the one that makes its appearance as the gossamer winged butterfly. 

Belief, hope, love, they’re passed on forever, they never die.

This is not my house, this is not my home. I am a stranger living in a strange place. I want to go home. But my home has been sold and no longer belongs to me. I am homeless with nowhere to go. My heart is broken for the friends I left behind. For my park, for my balcony, for my beautiful home that we’d redone from floor to ceiling. My friends, oh my friends. It is a rupture, a tearing away. Where will I find such friends again? Like a sad wraith I roam around, hoping for some relief from the pain and emptiness but it never comes. I don’t cry because if I start, I may never stop again. Yes it’s purported to be a paradise, but as usual, I would rather have visited and gone home. But there is no home. Yes, the rooms are pretty, the.colors of the walls are nice. But when I reach to turn on a light, my hand meets nothing. I open the cupboard to take out some tea, there’s everything but tea in it. I look outside, instead of the beautiful tree lined parkway, I see strange environs. I am here, but my heart is 500 miles away. No one understands my mourning of my life past. I must bear my suffering alone. Yes this is a house, but it is not my home.