Coming back from the other side of my Bipolar Wonderland through medication, creativity, and moxie.
Days alive: 12,161
Projects worked on: 4 and counting
Naps taken: 1
Shopping trips completed: 1
Things left to do: so many.
Cliches laughed at: 2
Today has been pretty productive. I’ve been up since 6am or so. Just couldn’t go back to sleep. I keep having dreams that my alarm is going off. It it’s at one or two am, when it isn’t actually going off. It wakes me anyway. Continue reading “Sleepy, Sleepy Sunday”
I had goals for 2018. I don’t think I’ve been that great at meeting them.
Let me start off with being completely and frankly honest: I don’t know how well I’ll do with this blog long term.
Days alive: 12,155
Words written: 2,045
Bright gold jacket bought: 1
Hours lipstick has stayed: 11 and counting
The orchids in the backyard is blooming something fierce. They’re a lovely color I am pretty sure my hair has been at some point.
It’s pretty. I need pretty things in my life right now. I’m feeling quite awful mentally. As to why I’m not quite sure.
Days alive: 12,154
MegaLoad washers in use: 2
Cost for one basket of laundry: $6.25
Cost for one box of soap: $0.75
Hours slept: 6.5 hours
Full hampers of laundry to be done: 3
Hey, look at that. There is post on Sundays!
I’ve slept, but my anxiety is through the roof so far today. I don’t seem to be able to do anything right. And Steph is somehow more sunburnt than I am so I can’t be affectionate at all without bothering her.
I feel like a colossal inconvenience in general right now.
I’ve been two days straight without sleep now. As in, two solid days awake. The new medication is really screwing with me.
Days alive: 12,149.5
Hours awake: 45 and change.
I was hoping to sleep well tonight. Not so, I guess. New med still screwing with my sleep schedule. Maybe I’ll get some rest tomorrow night.
It was a chill, restful evening after a stomach churning levels of stressful day at work. I’m hoping things will get better soon. I keep wildly vacillating between braking into tears and being so bloody manic/upbeat/cheerful I want to strangle myself just to save everyone else from it.
In other news, I found this gorgeous feather outside of work today. 
I don’t know diddly squat about birds, so I haven’t the foggiest what it could belong to other than “bird”.
Anyway. I’m going to try to sleep at least a little. Or just stare at the inside of my eyelids until my alarm goes off.
Days alive: 12,148
Current number of ebooks: 4,182
Hours slept: about four
Number of lipsticks I own: 81 (estimated. I actually have no idea because I can’t find them all.)
I haven’t been sleeping. So I’ve done a bit of research. I know a little more about my diagnosis. Still not happy about it, but I can’t seem to quite put into words why I am so upset. It’s frustrating because I try to explain that while I understand that life may be a little easier with treatment now that a specific problem/source has been identified, but I still don’t like the diagnosis at all.
Days alive: 12,144
Hours slept: > 4
Number of Llewelyn Almanacs: 26
Number of ebooks on kindle: 4,182
Number of ebooks on wishlist: 387
Still tired today. Still feeling small and maladjusted. Still adjusting to the new meds something fierce. I was told, initially, to take them at night since they might have a soporific effect. And, my delightful brain being as it is, said noperoni and cheese to that idea.
Days Alive: 12,142.
Pain Number: 4
Hours Slept: 4
Number of unnecessary notebooks purchased today: 1
Chicken nuggets eaten: 19 (I dropped one.)
Days Since Diagnosis: 0
I’m not doing great today. I’m not cheerful. I’m not well rested or ecstatic to be alive.
I got a diagnosis today that I hate. Not cancer. I guess I can be glad about that. And it’s likely the answer to the issues I’ve been having since I have been old enough to know I’ve had problems. Finally having a name possible name for the jabberwocky on my back is an interesting sensation.
Postmark Wonderland 