Bipolar Disorder, flare edition

This week has been probably one of the worst few days I have had in a while. Nothing particularly bad has happened environmentally, but the bipolar kicked it up a notch. I was a little happy, slightly hypomanic ball of glee Saturday night. I hung out with David and Samuel and we had Steak n’ Shake and watched Superbad. It was good, until I got stressed out by Superbad (because Jonah Hill and Michael Cera weren’t making it to the party fast enough) and then everything went downhill. Now, I don’t think it was actually Superbad that started my breakdown, but who knows. I sat on David’s bed whilst they played Super Smash Bros. The chatter got louder, the world was closing in on me, my breathing became constricted, and I sought refuge from the oncoming panic attack. So I did what any sane person would do, I curled up in a ball on the couch with a pillow over my head and listened to Gymnopedie no. 1 over, and over, and over again. It didn’t improve and I decided to leave, until David asked if I was okay, and then the waterworks appeared, I was hyperventilating, shaking, sobbing, you know the drill. He held me and wiped my tears away and talking to me until I could somewhat compose myself, then drove me home.

The next morning was no better. I felt okay, I went to church, the room closed in on me, the noise became invasive, and I escaped the sanctuary. Following this I went to David’s to try and feel better, we had to find his wallet, which we eventually tracked down at Chili’s, where he’d left it Friday at lunch. We went to Olive Garden, David, Sam, and I. Then I freaked out, felt like I was going to vomit, had to take to Publix for fruit (a weird solution to stomach aches for me) and went home to try again to compose myself. This time I laid in bed and cried until I could no longer cry and fell asleep.

The same can be said for yesterday: freaked out, cried, composed. Only this time I was at Mr. and Mrs. Woodford’s house. David’s mom, Freddi, came to the rescue for the Susannah that was, yet again, sobbing. She and David prayed over me, and David and I took to his parent’s room so that I could calm down away from all of the company. I cried and cried and cried some more. David, my ever steady, loving boyfriend, held me, wiped the tears from my face, and talked with me about what was making me so sad. Soon after he left the room to socialize, I told myself I was done being so sad, got up, had dinner, swam, long-boarded, and went to the beach. Not all at the same time.

Today I’ve been okay. Not great, not terrible. I called my psychiatrist this morning to be worked into the schedule for tomorrow. I will be discussing my recent symptoms and hopefully adjusting medication for a better concoction. I spent today cuddling and then watching Howl’s Moving Castle – for those of you that haven’t seen this Hayao Myasaki masterpiece, you should. It’s beautiful, fantastical, poignant, funny, and romantic. 10/10.

Looking back and analyzing the past few days I’m really thankful for the prayer and love that has been poured out upon me. It flipped the switch. And for now, I’m not crying, which is definitely an improvement.


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