Cue the music from Jaws

I awoke this morning with a dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t feeling physically ill. It felt more like a sleeping anger that was beginning to rouse again and to start it’s fretting, stewing and then raging as it has been wont to do in days gone by. As I made my bed, I flashed on the recognition of my old nemesis: the manic side of my bipolar disorder. At this stage of my life, I don’t experience mania as a swinging from the trees, sexual craziness in the streets kind of wildness. No, at this point, it’s more like a deep seated foulness — a bit of molten lava that seeks to erupt anew into the green pastures of my life and to wreak havoc with its fiery destruction.

What brings this on? I had just sent an email to Rae carefully giving the blow-by-blow account of my sudden recruitment to do the Job Readiness class by tattoo’d Millenial Alex who is a narcissistic airhead operating out of a center in Maryvale. I had also responded to Rahim’s late email regarding the change in plans regarding Istanbul. He wanted a “sincere” response as to the real reason I was cancelling the trip. I sent him one email pleading the excuse of my parkinsons. But I knew it wasn’t truely sincere. I had said earlier that someone had cancelled on the trip. So, I fired off a second email giving more details about the second person (without naming names or race) with whom I had planned on going originally to Turkey. Sending that email left me with the feeling that I could have been putting the final nail in the coffin of the relationship with Rahim, such as it is.

So, two emails that had me posturing in righteousness. That’s the tip of the iceberg of going into mania right there. Of course there’s the ongoing sturm un drang with the racist outbreak in Virginia over the weekend, the responses of everyone about everyone’s reactions ad nauseam. Tom Crowe is coming to visit in early September and I have no doubt that he will be breathing threats of slaughter against any and every body that smacks of political nastiness. I’m going to have to endure that while he is here.

Last night’s dream had me in Algeria, visiting Ash’s home town. I was walking along narrow streets that often seemed to be a dead end to where I was hoping to end up. But I “knew” as one does in dreams, that I was in Ash’s town and I was close to finally physically meeting up with him. The town streets I was walking in, were a brightly lit mediterranean village —  with white washed houses side by side and cobblestoned streets. The ocean seemed to be close at hand although, in actuality, I think Ash’s town is somewhat inland. When I awoke I texted him that I dreamt I had come to his town. He texted back his pleasure at that.

So, the day at St. Joseph was busy — since they’re getting to paint the clock is off the wall. The computer lab was hopping and the denizens were babes in the land of bytes and bits. I spent quite a bit of time with a woman who was a real neophyte regarding computers. But, I got her a new email and managed to get her resume downloaded into the new account. I’m glad I was busy. I didn’t have time to nurture my mania.

I was able to get my everything bagel at Starbucks and my corner table. I people watched and, in turns out, two men I observed showed up at Lambda for the noon meeting with me. We exchanged pleasantries afterward. Then, off to kidney doctor (I don’t like the new office nor do I care for the office staff) and then did some grocery shopping.  It was a full day.

Do I seek help for this recurrence of the front half of the bi-polar or should I let it slide? What comes next? Suicidal thoughts? Those are part of the package. On one hand, I really don’t want to unpack this sordid mess and to start another round of experimenting with drug treatment. For all the good it did me, the lithium and depakote wreaked havoc on my physical health. I don’t have a lot of confidence in the sharpness of care or concern that mental health providers have in Phoenix. For some reason, I had more confidence of them in California. Or, do I white knuckle it and wait for the smooth waters after running the rapids of mood swings. I suspect that the moods will not be as volatile as they’ve been in the past. But then again, how long do I wait before I realize I’m in over my head?


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