A little catch up if you like…I have been on a different med now for the bi-polar since about February. It was kind of rough, going off the lithium but hey! Look at me! I’m writing today! In the last couple of weeks I’ve had some glimpses into the damage my illness did that led me to lose the jobs I loved. I couldn’t see them before including the inappropriate behaviour and the way my mind just couldn’t grasp what was in front of me. No focus and very scattered. It’s been shocking to me really, how it wasn’t the world that was so fucked up. It couldn’t have been me. It does look, though, that working again is still a long way off. Besides, it’s humiliating to go to work and screw up and not have any idea why or even know it’s happening. So I’m on disability and want to concentrate on getting well again. The depressive part of this crap is still hanging around and, when I think I’m getting some headway I trip over it again until my knees are bloody and my best comfort is my chair. I’ve lost 20 pounds without trying and sometimes it fluctuates to 30. Bonus for sure.
I’ve been disturbed lately by very vivid dreams. Now, I’ve used a CPAP at night for years which is supposed to make my sleep so deep that I shouldn’t remember my dreams at all most of the time. Almost every night, though, there I am, in a reality that can’t be real. Not all are bad. My mom is there almost every time, doing something she would always be doing when she was alive; dishes, reading the National Enquirer or, last night, she was vacuuming. I still have the house dreams with more and more rooms being added each time; a surprise behind each door and more confusing hallways to navigate.
Now, the problem is trying to separate the dreams from my daily life. It’s fine in the morning because the dream is still very vivid at first then starts to fade after a bit just like it should. Then, by 6:00 pm or so large bits and pieces come back through flashes in my brain. Very distracting when I think I’m back at work at the clinic, or thinking my daughter and I had a conversation we didn’t have or dozens of other things.
I still seem to smoke in my dreams almost every time I remember them. I quit in 1987. I wake up upset that I started again and how the hell would I be able to afford to smoke again?! Never. Then the relief when I realized it was, again, a dream.
Well, this is a short post as I just wanted to get back into writing again. I know it’s kind of wooden and unpolished but I’ve missed it terribly. There is another piece of writing I’ll be doing in the next few days. That’s a letter to someone to whom I owe a huge apology because of my past behaviour due to my illness. I think it’s going to be easy enough to do though.
It should rest part of my sleeping self.