Week Two – new meds.
What a ride. And not in a fun “Yay let’s go for a ride!” ride. More like, “wow, this ride is nowhere NEAR as fun as I thought it was gonna be” ride Or “Maybe you better bring me a bucket” kind of ride.
I mentioned in my last post that I have received my new, proper diagnosis of bipolar type 2 and I sincerely thought that I would be at the point of acceptance by now. Right? I mean, it’s been two weeks for crying out loud. I should just acknowledge, accept and manage. Trouble is, my body has been less than cooperative with this new normal and has been quite clear it’s not on board yet.
It’s hard to describe how I’m feeling, so let’s just say I feel one part hungover, one part weighted under a hot, wet blanket, one part confused, another part fatigued beyond belief and finally yet another part thrilled to pieces that I am potentially going to get this right.
It’s difficult work getting well, but I am on it. I just feel like my brain is a little further ahead than the rest of my bod and it’s getting annoying.
The goal of course, is to align both so that I can live with my diagnosis in some form of perfect harmony. Bipolar for me is like that 80s sitcom neighbour who always barges in through the kitchen door and raids the fridge then offers up unsolicited advice. They drive you nuts, but you love them anyway and can’t imagine life without their presence in it.
Yeah. That’s what it’s like.
Next time they barge in, they better bring a bucket.