Friday, 21 December 2012

Down. Out. Whatever.

THE "HYPOMANIA" I so thoroughly enjoyed disclaiming experiencing, which was most certainly REAL has almost entirely withered and died. Yesterday I was so tired I couldn't even watch Helen Mirren in The Queen (again) without falling asleep. So I went to bed in the mid-afternoon and awoke around ten or eleven PM not feeling good. Then I took a tiny bit of quetiapine (my antipsychotic, which I'm meant to be on at 300mg every day) and finally drifted off again after one AM. I had a dream about going on holiday to India with a geat group of friends. Only our hotel room was over a river and the vivd blue sea was fenced off for five miles with huge, bizarre plants growing along the beaches. The swimming pools all along the length of the road on which we were staying were all for guests of other hotels. I kept thinking of Louise and Tilly Bagshawe, the chick-lit writers and how terrifying it must be to depend for one's livelihood on something as capricious as the sales of paperback novels.

I woke up experiencing pervasive mental discomfort, induced by the dream, that carried on all morning. I only got up at 11AM. I felt too depressed to do anything. So I didn't bother showering. I was fully clothed anyhow and utterly freezing cold. So I went down the post office where the enormous queue was moving so torturously slowly I could barely handle being there. Then I phoned an idiot foreign drug dealer. I said "I'm just checking you're around," and he said "why you checking I'm around". He is so stupid. So I had to actually spell it out: "BECAUSE I WANT TO COME AND SEE YOU. I'LL BE ABOUT TEN MINUTES". I got on the bus feeling horrible. I saw this dealer. These days I get no pleasure or excitement from the process of scoring; if I feel anything I feel stressed and just wish I could be at home. So I got two "bees" for £20. Then I had to go to the needle-exchanging pharmacy where another drug addict was getting his and he looked at me weird, presumably because of my weird speaking voice. Then I went into McDonalds and that was almost unbearable. I had to wait for them to make my £1.49 double cheeseburger from scratch as I stood there, tired and sweaty and just wanting to be somewhere else.

Almost all the symptoms of hypomania have vanished, except for an occasional indistinct generalized feeling of excitement, which I thoroughly doubt another person could notice or pick up on. Music which only a couple of days ago induced in me sensations of highest exaltation is still going around my head but I only feel irritated by it. My own thoughts, if they are "racing", feel oppressive. They weigh on my brain. The bus-ride home took a hopelessly long time with sunlight not blocked by tall enough buildings, shining straight to the back of my brain and it felt like it was poisoning me. I drudged all the way up my own neverending street, tired and utterly freezing cold, not feeling at all good. Binky rang me twice today and I can barely bear speaking to her. So I got home and took two thirds of the heroin and ~ WOW! ~ I feel a lot better. The indistinct but torturous sensations of physical discomfort that I've experienced all week ~ even when feeling manic ~ have evaporated. And the horrible mental discomfort that I've only felt since crashing down is markedly reduced since banging up this gear. (Otherwise I wouldn't want to be typing any of this now.)

If you're wondering why all the indulgent details, this is for my own purposes. I want to remember exactly how mood swings really feel, in detail. My memories of the past two weeks are so fragmented, they're like a pack of playing cards thoroughly shuffled then scattered all over the floor. For all my complaints at the time that I didn't feel that high, I felt normal, I now remember last week as a period of massively elevated moods. My emotional reaction to music, lights and colours became so extreme it actually outdid Ecstasy. I might have compared my emotional upswings to MDMA or other drugs but they're never exactly the same. While the "hedonic activation" of MDMA is there, the "lovey-dovey-ness" is almost entirely absent. I'm thinking of writing a book about Mood Disorders ~ for sufferers and their families and for medical professionals looking for a more personal viewpoint. One thing I want to do is explain how to differentiate the symptoms and behaviour a person high on speed or coke might display in contrast to the far more expressive, expanisve and excitable highs of mania. One person we know was actually diagnosed with suspected LSD intoxication because one thing she said, among a great many others, implied that this was the case. This person, when she is ill, will speak aloud many of the ideas racing through her mind as if they are statements of fact. When I last saw her she also said she was having Jesus' baby and Sting's baby and that we couldn't go outside because of the snipers on the roof. The staff should really have known better.

Well I must go and extract £60 from Binky. She owes me money and if I don't get it now she'll only go and spend it on earrings. Or something.

Ukh! I've just remembered why I felt so dreadful this morning. It's only four days till Xmas, which I'm doing at Binky's mental health hostel; and I was wondering how on earth I'm going to cope...






No More Personal Sogginess said...

Wear our best Intimate Dampness-Control Support Pants to Bounce Along to your heart's content to the Greatest Music under the sun!

Scouse House Bounce said...

Even Better Donking

Bev said...

Its Friday thats my good behavior day.Other wise I have some thing to add to those comments you sweet hunk of he manlinessXoXo

GLEDWOOD said...

Personal Sogginess and Scouse Bounce ~~ thank you.

Bev: sorry that was a cheeky question of me. You behave better on Fridays?... That's unusual!