A Little Note

I wanted to post before I got ahead of myself. I thought I was entering depression again a few days ago-the day I put Going Dark up. Turns out, I was just experiencing stress. And that made me think a bit.

It’s incredibly easy to follow the thought patterns of everyone else who thinks they know better than you. I had a crying session in my shower after the poem went up and thought, hmmmm guess this is the end of my hypo(mania) streak. Pity it couldn’t last longer. I figured, if I was going to write dark poetry and then have a sob session in the shower (yay alliteration!) then that had to be it. Goodbye productivity and passion and planning, hello anxiety, depression and moping. I forgot that even I can have a bad day without it turning into a full blown bad time. I was so ready to just give in, letting the cycle take its hold and just collapse under the weight of the world that I hadn’t even stopped to consider that perhaps I was just taking a moment to vent out my pent up frustration.

So I thought I’d take a moment and do what I do best-tell a story.

This is the story of hypo mania from the view point of someone who is completely surprised by it EVERY time it comes up.

I’ve been in hypo for quite a while. Maybe a month? I’ve been exceptionally chatty, I eat a little more than I do when I’m depressed, I’ve taken on quite a few projects and decided to involve myself in the planning of a few others. 99% of my ideas are related to my field of study. I feel spacey in a way that seems…over active. I can barely complete sentences without jumbling words (my brain is thinking faster than I am speaking or typing), I’m louder than usual and I’m jumping from topic to topic as easily as if they were one cohesive train of thought. In fact, I’ve started EIGHT blogs today and had to stop writing all of them because I couldn’t finish. I have since deleted most of them. There are other signs and symptoms but of course my brain has already lept from that page.

I curse more passionately when I’m hypo. I curse more casually when I’m depressed. I cook more original recipes in hypo. The music I listen to changes. I wake up earlier than my alarms, I leave earlier and I manage to keep myself busy. I drive faster. I sing loudly out the window while I drive (complete with hair flipping at stops). 

And this doesn’t just happen on a “good” day-this is literally every day, all day.

So it’s clear to see the difference between hypo mania and depression. But what about actual mania?

Actual mania is a monster.

I’ve only had actual mania once. And that is more than enough to last a lifetime.

There are two things that seperate Mania from hypo (everything else is the same across the board). For me at least.

1. The amount of sleep (or lack thereof) and

2. Hallucinations

I am special in that I happucinate only in the most extreme cases. I can talk about what that’s like if anybody wants to know. If not, that’s just one of my markers. Turns out in the severest of depression, that also occurs. Interesting.

So while I was convinced that I was done being the way I am currently, turns out that I was just suffering from a case of “end of the semester has me completely stressed” and my poor little brai couldn’t take any more so I just popped for a moment, let off a little steam and went back to being the little engine that could.

Who knows how long I’ll be like this, but all I know is that this is better than Mania and if I can squeeze out just enough energy to get me through finals week, I’ll be doing just fine.

Leave Out All The Rest

I so frequently get to talk about depression, and how it affects my life, but I so rarely get to talk about mania. It’s a confusing time in my life, and I really have no life-altering things to say about it. But I want to give a peak into it anyway, for the sake of the story.

I’ve only had I’d say one episode of actual mania-the kind that keeps me up for weeks (not days!) without caffeine, the trouble focusing, the jittery kind of organic buzz that makes me need to multitask incomprehensibly. Everything else has been hypo-mania. And that is in no way less confusing, it is simply not as…devastatingly so. Welcome to today.

mvh

I can never tell when it’s going to hit. I always know when it’s going to end.

I pick up little indicators along the way. Being chatty, staying up late, needing to be artistic-like an actual need that consumes me, mind racing. And by the time all of these are present, chances are I’ll also exhibit the one last symptom that I have to fight to control: money spending.

I’m not a gambler-I’m really bad at it and I don’t necessarily like it. I don’t dislike it either. I just happen to like “getting” stuff when I spend money. It might be a couple of things here, some bits and bobs, herbs, trinkets. It really depends on my mood. All that actually matters is getting the mail. That’s my favorite part. It’s like a birthday that I give myself.

I didn’t experience the spending thing until rather recently-within the last two or three years. Spending money is normally a source of anxiety for me. I don’t like watching my bank account lose numbers. But every so often I go out and buy enough stuff that it creates a dent. And then I work my butt off to make sure that it left no lasting mark on my budget, my bills or anything else.

The first time it happened, I spent over $200 on trading cards. I told myself that I needed a hobby. So I bought cards (which had to be shipped to me) and then went to the store to buy the card protectors and a binder. My dad and I had a card collection since I was little, and I finally organized those too! It’s now one of my prized possessions.

prize

(This is my most prized card.)

The next time, I think it was herbs, oils and protective jewelry. I bought evil-eye stuff, relaxation stuff and I think I got some miscellaneous spiritual jewelry. Then came candles and soap. I bought the kind with jewelry in it. Double presents! Each time I knew I should put that money towards something more necessary-like saving for grad school, books for next semester or some clothes that actually fit. But those things aren’t fun-they’re just necessary. And necessary feels like a chore sometimes. Not manic-completely ordinary and therefore out of the question.

Thankfully, some small part of my brain still functions on a normal basis and I stop myself before I completely ruin my life. It’s always a fear though. But this time around, I am prepared. I have a million days worth of craft stuff, the book about body positivity and safety and I have hundreds of other ideas that might help. I think I’ll be okay.

I hate being on the “high”. My mind races so fast with such great ideas that I wish I could slow it down for just long enough to write everything down and complete everything. I start dozens of projects and I intend to finish them all, but they only reach partial completion and end up in the “I might get to this next time” pile. I fly around ideas so fast that it almost hurts.Because the only way to make it stop is to drown it out completely. When I’m up, it’s music 24/7-so that I can get some sleep, can moderate my activities. And I find it so weird that I have to stop myself in order to function.

But in all, some of the best ideas I’ve ever had have come from times like these. One Christmas/Yule season I made quilts for ALL of my in-laws (I think it came out to about 15 full sized quilts-the pictures were lost when my computer crashed), there was one time that I wrote 75000 words for a book in about 20 days, and of course, there are other not-so-grandiose things like finishing entire TV series in a couple days, reading whole sagas without stopping and the like.

late-night-reading_opt

As it would turn out, the days that I feel the least bit like me are the days when I act mostly in my own self interest. I set out to change the way I see the world. I craft things to make the dark days seem better, I buy things in preparation for the crappy days when I need something to make me smile. I set myself up opportunities to do great things and chug along so that when the bad days come (and they most certainly do) I can remind myself that I can do it.

So today, I send my children’s book out to agents, I powerhouse through my homework, the housework and then, if I feel really motivated, I may even sculpt a little. Because to lose this momentum will be a tragic, bizarre thing and I’m not ready to just yet.