No need to manic

A lot of people assume the depressive part of manic-depressive is the toughest part. The truth is, it isn't. And it's not the manic part either. The worst part is whichever phase I happen to be in, because they're both so exaggeratedly extreme.

Over the past four days, I've been in the throes of a manic episode. A pretty bad one. It's not the first one this year but it seems to be the strongest. What I noticed is that some episodes are stronger than others, by their very natures, but they can also be exacerbated or allayed, depending on whatever's going through your life. I guess I've had a rough few days as well, which hasn't helped things. I hate my job, I can't seem to make a lasting connection with men and women alike and I'm artificially buoyed by my recent citizenship and birthday. It's like somebody hotwired my car and since there's no key in the ignition, it's hard to turn it off.

Some of the features of my mania:

I fall asleep at 4-5 every single night, wake up at 7:30 to 9.

I'm tired all the time but I still have an abundance of nervous energy.

I'm talking and thinking at a million miles an hour..without really saying or arriving at anything worthwhile.

I can't seem to sit still for more than twenty seconds. It's like a twitch in my nerves that won't let me be still.

I've been shopping like...well, a maniac. I'm buying stuff I need, stuff I want and stuff nobody needs or wants. I truly cannot control it to the point where I reported all my credit cards stolen, so they would suspend them.

Even though in my head, I don't want to have sex, my body begs to differ. It's like I've been injected with a testosterone shot straight in the goolies. Not sure if referring to my private parts as goolies is another symptom...but it really ought to be.


The worst thing about Manic-Depression is that it's hard to sustain relationships (don't just mean amorous ones; any kind of relationship be it family, friends or girlfriend). You're basically three different people, with no schedule or advanced warning or predictability. It's not schizophrenic, whereby your behavious becomes highly delusional and destructive, and it's no split-personality whereby you have different names (though faithful readers will remember that I changed my name to Mohammed when I was seven years old...from Sherien. I know, I know...no wonder I have problems). It's manic-depression which is mild enough to allow you to fake keeping it together and yet severe enough to lash angrily at your feeble attempts to shackle it within the confines of normalcy.

It's lonely and it's awkward to explain and it makes you seem sometimes eccentric and sometimes crazy. Personally, I don't blame anyone who decides I'm not worth the trouble. Conversely, I'm eternally grateful to the people who do. I'm thrilled to bits when somebody calls to ask if I want to do something and yet equally baffled by why anyone would. When somebody breaks up with me (again, in any social sense), my distress is only outweighed by a languid acceptance. I mean, what did I expect? For a likable person, I think I'm one of the hardest people to like. People mistake my lethargy for strategy and assume I have layers. Anyone who's seen my ludicrously un-layered winter wardrobe knows that's preposterous. I am probably the simplest, most orderly basketcase you'll ever meet.

I can't even be a nutjob properly!

But I get better at it, the older I get. Turning 30 was a boon for me because a lot of the need to experiment with life, to prove yourself anew to people you meet, goes away. "A pessimist" someone said, "Is an optimistic realist" and I really believe I am an optimist who's tempered his outlook with a little self-awareness and a willingness to retain hope that I won't always be as difficult to deal with.

And with depression a few short weeks away, I kind of enjoy mania in a perverse sort of way. I mean, it's not how I see myself (I identify more with the depressive side) so this is like a holiday. I hear Bellevue is lovely this time of year..

A joke. Never let it be said I ever lose my sense of humour.