My manic self has simmered down

The rumbling and spewing volcano of my emotional self seems to have quieted in the last 24 hours. The postings from Ash have diminished. I got one unsolicited letter from Ahmed in Egypt who has not responded to my answer to his enthusiastic note to me. To his text this morning  I’ve told David, my A4A masseur that I’m no longer interested in his services at this time.

Do I still question that I’m bipolar? Insomnia has become a problem again. I awaken around 2:30 or 3:00 and I fitfully return to sleep. Has my nightly use of Melatonin become inaffective? Do I need something stronger? The addict in me sniffs the air expectantly — oooh, more drugs? Dear God, not the ambien again.

My head is still stuffed up, making the use of my hearing aids problematic. I can’t seem to talk clearly and I fear that with the hearing aids, I’d still sound like a goose. Oh Pooh, what is there to do.

I fear that Jim, my AA sponsor, would be no help in this regard. He’d push 12-step stuff without any real know how of how to address mental illness and addiction issues across the board. Or do I fear what he would say? I’m sort of numb at this point at the growing silence from Ash and Ahmed. It’s a relief, in fact, not to face them at this moment. If I have to eat the cost of the plane ticket, well, it’s cheaper than accruing expenses for a ten day adventure that may be at peril of my physical and emotional health.

When asked what she would tell her 30 year old self if she could go back in time, she said ” I’d say, if there’s something you want to do. Don’t do it.” I’m twice that age, and then some, and I find that’s good advice. Well, at least for today.

So, I think I need to call Dr. Martin and ask for a referral to psychiatry, to get my head unstuffed and to address my growing insomnia. It’s a start.

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