I think too much. I like thinking. It makes my brain feel good. However, these days when it comes to blogging I push writing it off to the side to wait. What I’m waiting for is never gonna happen. I don’t even know what it is. I do know… that my little grey cells want me to be in a better place, a more stable place. The problem is that my life is not static. I’m not static. Each hour of each day visits upon me new things.

Feeling better? Stronger? Wiser?

No idea. I do know that I aim to speak freely and about real life. Just because I can’t think of a profound way to put things is no reason not to blog. Once daily blogging was easy to me. I was so manic that looking back over that time I suspect I couldn’t have stopped if I had wanted to. My brain flew around me merrily stimulated and producing gigantic amounts of “inspired” rhetoric.

These days I am plagued by anxiety and ADHD. They work well together to confound me. Sitting still and focusing long enough to write is so difficult. I’m manic again, but in a little different way. I’m angry all the time. It’s like a rising tide that I remember clearly I couldn’t stop. I react to things that annoy me without thinking and with often disastrous results. I’ve tried to take precautions this time. I noticed it early enough this time to call it on the carpet and clue my kids that still live with me that I’m having trouble reigning the anger in.

I have terrifically terrible pain in my back and radiating down my legs. It paralyzes me especially when pain medications aren’t stopping the pain. I cry often after simply cooking dinner or washing the dishes. Okay, forget the dishes. I can only load part of a load into the dishwasher before I have to sit down and try to let the pain pass.

My runaway pain affects my brain. My brain is panicking and reacting and making mistakes. Somehow I have to find a way to halt the elements of myself and my life that work together to undo me. Pain affects Bipolar. Bipolar stimulates anxiety and negative mania. Negative mania wears my body down so far that bits and pieces of me are just falling off.

I mean to fight myself this time. I intend on NOT taking myself off my meds. Stopping my meds would be … okay, it would be a nightmare. It could ruin me. Ruin my family.

Not this time. I swear, not this time.  I’ve spent hours and hours preparing for this eventuality. Now it’s time to see if I can keep my crap together long enough to see if my safety measures actually work when the crisis comes upon me. I mean, now that it’s upon me.

I need to focus on: reducing my pain, slowing myself down so I can halt the angry reactions, staying on my meds, and getting enough sleep. Right. Sleeping and eating well and exercising and losing weight and continuing physical therapy  on my knee and soon on my back.

It’s time for me to put into play the things I must do to save myself.

It appears it’s gonna be quite a ride. Stick around and see if I deconstruct or if I construct a better and stronger me.