I spoke too hastily

A while back I wondered if I was still bi-polar. I haven’t been on medications for almost two years. well, make that one year, and I seem to be pretty stable. True, in the past few months I’ve noted an elevated mood. I thought it was my new normal. Looking back, a “manic” mood would explain my interaction with young muscular men on the internet in the beliefs (hopes) that I had found my new true love. In each case, I suspected I was being played a patsy and I backed off with blocks on their phone numbers and deletes of their emails.

Even on a good day, this does not seem to be normal behavior. However, being a lone gay male in a sea of hetero Hispanic families gives me a sense of isolation and loneliness that I never quite knew when I was living in Long Beach. So, perhaps my nascent mental disorder is flaring up again.

Of course, with every manic episode comes the resultant down turn. Even though I wake up after adequate sleep, I find it hard to get started on the day. The prospects of going to volunteer don’t even juice me sufficiently to jump out of bed. I do get up, thank god, and I do follow my daily routine. But I feel heavy. That old anhedonia slinks into my pores. Thankfully my nightly dose of Remeron keeps me from the pits of despair. But, I feel “eh.” I pass on going to AA meetings; I don’t want to be social, I don’t want to put in my hearing aids and even with them in, I struggle to hear.

Scott asked me if I was going to the meeting tonight. I hesitated and finally said “no.” Instead, I went to Subway, got a salad and came home and read my New Yorker. I had to finish reading last week’s issue  — a grim article about apathy among refugee children in Sweden — and a ghost story which was clever.  Then, I got started on this week’s issue which had more grim stories. Between them and Facebook postings about goings-on in Washington DC, my blue mood just gets bluer. Maybe I should take a moratorium on FB until things brighten up in the mental health department.

I got another referral to a new urologist from Dr. Martin. He argued that the paperwork that insurance companies demand make doctor’s life hellish; I didn’t argue with him on that, I stressed that it was the lack of return phone calls and the inaction on the part of Dr. Fishman’s office that frustrated me. I didn’t belabor the point, I was pretty even-keeled in making my point. Martin expedited my request and I have an appointment in 2 weeks. We’ll see how that goes. I am mystified as to how difficult it is to get one simple medication. From the way Anne told it, her brother seemed to get it without a hassle. And in Cambodia even!

For the life of me, I can’t remember his name. Ah, Joel!

So, what to do. I really don’t want to get into therapy again. I don’t want to see a psychiatrist or therapist. I resist drudging up all that angst and muck again. Going to the gym isn’t too helpful either. What looked to be a smart move financially, is proving to be an un-enjoyable experience. They still have the old equipment from the former incarnation (there’s no close captioning on the treadmill tv), the people are not good looking and I have to watch Wendy Williams when I’m on the bicycle.  Besides, the yellow and purple motif is down right ugly. Whine, whine, whine.

Rae from St. Joseph the Worker sent out an email requesting additional help for the summer on the front desk. She also asked if I’d take the Job Readiness class on May 18th.  I said yes to the second request. I’m pondering the first request. As it is, after my volunteering on Tuesday or Thursday morning, I am wiped out when I come home. I take a solid 1 hour nap on the couch.  Maybe I could manage an afternoon shift (Wednesday or Friday).

So, it’s bed time. Let’s hope everyone behaves themselves tomorrow.


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