I'm writing this as a diary entry and have titled it thus. If I care to write other diary entries I will number them accordingly to not confuse the blog.
My day started off peacefully enough. I woke up at 8:00AM after twelve hours of sleep. I guess I must have been very tired the night before when I hit the sack and that's why I slept so long. She was already awake and had made coffee and, as usual, brought my first cup to me while I was still in bed. That's a nice thing she does still.
She was depressed again today. But I think she's getting better. Or at least that's how it seemed at the beginning of the day. She got out of bed and dressed and announced that she was going to drive and get cigarettes. I needed cartons, too, so I tagged along. We cashed in our spare change that we have been saving and it came to over $80. We also went into the Indian market at the Safeway plaza and bought frozen samosas and ice cream. We then headed home.
I guess the morning's activity was enough for her because she promptly changed into her pajamas and went back to bed. I changed into my house clothes and listened to music until I went to gym. I think we talked about things of substance but I'm not sure I remember them all.
I remember telling her that she had made progress in her illness by having had run some errands. She felt guilty at the time for not being able to do more. I reassured her. I told her to be positive about what she had accomplished rather than viewing it in a negative light. This seemed to cheer her up a bit. I felt drained as I do after these sorts of conversations. Nevertheless I think she went to bed feeling a little better.
I went to gym at 2:00PM and did my regular workout. I wasn't able to leg press 200 pounds in two sets. I had to settle for just one set and a set for each single leg. I don't understand why I am having so much trouble with the leg press when I used to be able to press 200 pounds in two sets. Tess said that it was because I had already done a lot of leg exercises and those had worn me out. I guess she's right although it still doesn't sit well with me.
I'm still terribly torn between buying more sessions with Tess and saving the money to live off of after the first of next year. I've more or less decided to buy 25 more sessions. I'll talk to the guy at the front desk on Tuesday about doing this.
I got home at 4:00 and she greeted me cheerily from the bedroom. I'm so glad things are looking up. I'm still wary, however, that it will all take a turn for the worse at any moment. I am hopeful though. I sat out on the balcony and decompressed from gym. I was out there for about an hour. She came to say hello with a smile on her face. I was pleased and happy to see her out of bed. She left and I returned to my daydreaming.
I guess I came back into the living room at around 5:00. I felt like all I wanted to do was sit and listen to music. This lethargy of hers is beginning to rub off on me, I guess. I know I was feeling a little depressed. I'm worried that I might enter a bipolar depression which would definitely not help matters around here at all. But as I write this I feel lucid. I think I am between cycles.
It's always difficult to know, of course, because everything seems more or less normal to me when I am hypomanic. I think I might be a little hypomanic because of the need to always be, "On," with her. I cannot give myself any rest emotionally. But at least I am not in mania. Everything definitely does not seem normal when I am manic. I am detached from reality and unable to do anything about it. It is also a blessing that I have not gone into mania while she is in her current depressed and needy state.
I wonder if the unreal sensation I experience when manic isn't actually a combination of mania and mild psychosis. Conventional wisdom about mania does not include the unreal way I experience reality while in it. I don't take the further step of stepping completely out of reality which I have while in psychosis. So, as I just said, it is probably just a mild touch of psychosis.
I started applying paint in the small squares that form the wild and jumbled design of my current painting. [I just corrected a typographical error in the previous sentence in which I had accidentally written "pain" instead of "paint." A Freudian slip I guess!] I've really set out to challenge my painting skills with this new piece of art. The squares are all the same size and radiate out from the center of the canvas becoming more jumbled as they approach the edges. I applied paint to the center seven squares. I blended my paint to achieve a pastel effect. I plan to continue this technique using ever-darkening pastels culminating in the full shade of brown I am using. I will redo the background once the squares are complete with a medium (or dark) pink I still haven't decided whether I will place a gold string or two across the canvas when I am done painting the design.
I dragged myself into the always difficult decision to eat. I decided I would bake an Amy's frozen pizza. I asked her if she wanted any. She told me from the bed that she had already eaten a cheese sandwich. I took this to me no and started to leave the bedroom. She called me back and told me that she would eat a slice. I asked her if she wanted me to serve it to her in bed. But to my surprise she said that she would join me at the table for dinner. I was happy about this. I hate eating alone. She prepared the oven and baked the pizza for us. She lit the nice area lighting we have in the dining room and a candle for the table. It was an unexpected and pleasant experience for me. She didn't talk very much so I handled the polite dinner talk. As usual I was aghast at the handful of psychiatric pills and capsules I need to take with my evening meal.
I applied another coat of paint to the squares I had started earlier and filled my medication trays afterwards. I am always at once depressed and angry at all of the medication I need to take. But although I hate it I acquiesce because my analyst, psychiatrist and she urge me to take it. I have resigned myself to taking them. Nevertheless I feel in my heart of hearts that I could easily handle bipolar episodes without medication and that the psychotic breaks would not happen any more frequently than they already do. Analysis I would not give up and I feel that it would suffice to keep me grounded. But my analyst has made it clear that she will not see me unless I stay on the medication.
The chronic pain I suffer in my lower back annoyed me and made me a bit grumpy when I came home from gym. I took a Vicodin but as usual it was only partly effective. It was especially aggravated at Gym where I was forced to use the exercise bicycle I don't like. My favorite was already in use by someone else. Something about the seat on the cycle I used today made it particularly uncomfortable for my lower back. The pedals are also different and my feet kept moving around while cycling. What a hassle. The resistance level is measured differently for this bike than the one I prefer to use. I pedaled at level 7 which felt like the level 15 I use on the other. I made it through 30 minutes despite all of these annoyances.
After dinner and the second coat of paint I decided to make my evening enjoyable by taking two Percacets and smoking some marijuana. I told this to her and she simply repeated it back to me with what I think I was a bit of disapproval. I don't care. It's Saturday and I get to play my music loud. I'm going to take advantage of this. The Percacets haven't kicked in yet. The stabbing pain in the middle of my back is still plaguing me as I write this. Once they kick in I'll take a hit or two of pot and kick back for the evening. I hope she doesn't come out and bring me down.
I feel so alone. I wish I had a companion. I wish I had a friend. I hope she will get better soon ad return to being these things for me.
My day started off peacefully enough. I woke up at 8:00AM after twelve hours of sleep. I guess I must have been very tired the night before when I hit the sack and that's why I slept so long. She was already awake and had made coffee and, as usual, brought my first cup to me while I was still in bed. That's a nice thing she does still.
She was depressed again today. But I think she's getting better. Or at least that's how it seemed at the beginning of the day. She got out of bed and dressed and announced that she was going to drive and get cigarettes. I needed cartons, too, so I tagged along. We cashed in our spare change that we have been saving and it came to over $80. We also went into the Indian market at the Safeway plaza and bought frozen samosas and ice cream. We then headed home.
I guess the morning's activity was enough for her because she promptly changed into her pajamas and went back to bed. I changed into my house clothes and listened to music until I went to gym. I think we talked about things of substance but I'm not sure I remember them all.
I remember telling her that she had made progress in her illness by having had run some errands. She felt guilty at the time for not being able to do more. I reassured her. I told her to be positive about what she had accomplished rather than viewing it in a negative light. This seemed to cheer her up a bit. I felt drained as I do after these sorts of conversations. Nevertheless I think she went to bed feeling a little better.
I went to gym at 2:00PM and did my regular workout. I wasn't able to leg press 200 pounds in two sets. I had to settle for just one set and a set for each single leg. I don't understand why I am having so much trouble with the leg press when I used to be able to press 200 pounds in two sets. Tess said that it was because I had already done a lot of leg exercises and those had worn me out. I guess she's right although it still doesn't sit well with me.
I'm still terribly torn between buying more sessions with Tess and saving the money to live off of after the first of next year. I've more or less decided to buy 25 more sessions. I'll talk to the guy at the front desk on Tuesday about doing this.
I got home at 4:00 and she greeted me cheerily from the bedroom. I'm so glad things are looking up. I'm still wary, however, that it will all take a turn for the worse at any moment. I am hopeful though. I sat out on the balcony and decompressed from gym. I was out there for about an hour. She came to say hello with a smile on her face. I was pleased and happy to see her out of bed. She left and I returned to my daydreaming.
I guess I came back into the living room at around 5:00. I felt like all I wanted to do was sit and listen to music. This lethargy of hers is beginning to rub off on me, I guess. I know I was feeling a little depressed. I'm worried that I might enter a bipolar depression which would definitely not help matters around here at all. But as I write this I feel lucid. I think I am between cycles.
It's always difficult to know, of course, because everything seems more or less normal to me when I am hypomanic. I think I might be a little hypomanic because of the need to always be, "On," with her. I cannot give myself any rest emotionally. But at least I am not in mania. Everything definitely does not seem normal when I am manic. I am detached from reality and unable to do anything about it. It is also a blessing that I have not gone into mania while she is in her current depressed and needy state.
I wonder if the unreal sensation I experience when manic isn't actually a combination of mania and mild psychosis. Conventional wisdom about mania does not include the unreal way I experience reality while in it. I don't take the further step of stepping completely out of reality which I have while in psychosis. So, as I just said, it is probably just a mild touch of psychosis.
I started applying paint in the small squares that form the wild and jumbled design of my current painting. [I just corrected a typographical error in the previous sentence in which I had accidentally written "pain" instead of "paint." A Freudian slip I guess!] I've really set out to challenge my painting skills with this new piece of art. The squares are all the same size and radiate out from the center of the canvas becoming more jumbled as they approach the edges. I applied paint to the center seven squares. I blended my paint to achieve a pastel effect. I plan to continue this technique using ever-darkening pastels culminating in the full shade of brown I am using. I will redo the background once the squares are complete with a medium (or dark) pink I still haven't decided whether I will place a gold string or two across the canvas when I am done painting the design.
I dragged myself into the always difficult decision to eat. I decided I would bake an Amy's frozen pizza. I asked her if she wanted any. She told me from the bed that she had already eaten a cheese sandwich. I took this to me no and started to leave the bedroom. She called me back and told me that she would eat a slice. I asked her if she wanted me to serve it to her in bed. But to my surprise she said that she would join me at the table for dinner. I was happy about this. I hate eating alone. She prepared the oven and baked the pizza for us. She lit the nice area lighting we have in the dining room and a candle for the table. It was an unexpected and pleasant experience for me. She didn't talk very much so I handled the polite dinner talk. As usual I was aghast at the handful of psychiatric pills and capsules I need to take with my evening meal.
I applied another coat of paint to the squares I had started earlier and filled my medication trays afterwards. I am always at once depressed and angry at all of the medication I need to take. But although I hate it I acquiesce because my analyst, psychiatrist and she urge me to take it. I have resigned myself to taking them. Nevertheless I feel in my heart of hearts that I could easily handle bipolar episodes without medication and that the psychotic breaks would not happen any more frequently than they already do. Analysis I would not give up and I feel that it would suffice to keep me grounded. But my analyst has made it clear that she will not see me unless I stay on the medication.
The chronic pain I suffer in my lower back annoyed me and made me a bit grumpy when I came home from gym. I took a Vicodin but as usual it was only partly effective. It was especially aggravated at Gym where I was forced to use the exercise bicycle I don't like. My favorite was already in use by someone else. Something about the seat on the cycle I used today made it particularly uncomfortable for my lower back. The pedals are also different and my feet kept moving around while cycling. What a hassle. The resistance level is measured differently for this bike than the one I prefer to use. I pedaled at level 7 which felt like the level 15 I use on the other. I made it through 30 minutes despite all of these annoyances.
After dinner and the second coat of paint I decided to make my evening enjoyable by taking two Percacets and smoking some marijuana. I told this to her and she simply repeated it back to me with what I think I was a bit of disapproval. I don't care. It's Saturday and I get to play my music loud. I'm going to take advantage of this. The Percacets haven't kicked in yet. The stabbing pain in the middle of my back is still plaguing me as I write this. Once they kick in I'll take a hit or two of pot and kick back for the evening. I hope she doesn't come out and bring me down.
I feel so alone. I wish I had a companion. I wish I had a friend. I hope she will get better soon ad return to being these things for me.
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