Ready for the Cycle.

I'd love to know how to preapre for the mood bycle when it returns. Right now, I seem to be on a good cocktail of medications. But a couple of weeks ago, I felt myself approaching hypomania.

I was experience increased need to be alone with my somewhat overwhelming thoughts. I was waking early and in the night. I was seeing things at the edge of my vision. My obsessive nature was switched on (this time, for a movie), and I felt a low buzz in my chest--something I could call excitement--but it had no apparent object and made me feel a little sick.

I've not experienced mania in a long time, and I don't think I've been fully hypomanic since I became stable several months ago. So maybe what I've experienced has been medicated hypomania or even medicated mania--the parts that will get past the meds, the parts I will still live with. I think I can learn to deal with that.

I need to learn to recognize it and work through it. Walking in silence on a treadmil lets me invite all my thoughts to come at me, and I can deal with them in a controlled space. I know I have to be careful about sleep. I want to know what to expect and accept and how to be ready.

I Love Myself For...

I should love myself all the time by staying healthy, being gentle, and being kind. I probably don't do this as I should. But sometimes, I do something that affects my near-future self, and I'm amazed. Here are some examples.

I love myself for

• Spreading tiny heart-shaped confetti in a future journal. I just found it, having forgotten all about it.
• Writing down where and how I got a journal, especially when it was a gift or I bought it while traveling.
• Putting a new box of Puffs on my nightstand.
• Placing my Cinderella doll at eye level on the bookshelf by my bed.
• Collecting great pens when I'm able.
• Reading some 560 books so far (not counting adolescent series). I'm sure they have shaped and changed me.
• Building a great relationship with my mom. 
• Going on a Friday breakfast date with Josh.
• Every poem and story I've written. Each one of them means progress.
• Ending up with Josh. 
• Getting season theatre tickets--I always have a show to look forward to.
• Getting specialists and therapists on Oliver's health team.
• Breastfeeding for 13 months.
• Taking my meds.
• Going to therapy regularly.
• Restarting and keeping up with my blogs.

Full of Stories.

I think about stories in two ways: short stories I could write or read, and stories that grow out of life, of significant memories that I spin for someone (often more than once).

Since my mind began to heal with medication and therapy, I began to get ideas--a plot thought, a title, a bit of dialogue, and most often, a first line. I write them on the end papers of my journals. I used to copy them onto colorful pieces of cardstock. I can't see very far beyond the snippet there, but I feel the charge.

I've never gotten ideas this way before the last 18 months or so. I've usually felt like a dead end because I wrote well but lacked stories to write, so what good did it do? Now, though, they are mostly below the surface, but they are in me. I envied people or characters who were full of stories (such as Jo March), but I think that I may be too.

I've certainly learned that I'm full of personal stories. Some have become essays. Several could become a memoir. For now, I practice the telling. Sometimes, I retell a story to see if I can keep it interesting enough. But I know I'll always have others, story after story.

Calm Joy.

I think this is a good name for what I want to reach. I want joy like blowing a dandelion wish rather than like a bubble machine or disco ball. If I have calm joy, I don't think I can be ill. Mania is never calm, and depression is never joyful.

I like the joy that, at a thought, makes me smile involuntarily. My face seems to change.

When I'm calm, I feel as I do with a few people who put me at ease immediately. Calm is like a big comfy bed that gives joy a chance to be still and whisper gratitude into the pillow.

Some people walk with such grace; I wonder if that comes from calm joy.

Odd Little Actions That Soothe Me.

I'm learning that particularly with bipolar disorder, I have to grab anything healthy that will give me peace or joy, even for a few minutes.

• Reading the names and descriptions of Urban Decay eyeshadows. 
• Reading the names of nail polishes.
• Going to Target's website, searching for a color (pink, teal, violet...), and scrolling through all the monochromatic items, letting the color and consistency wash over me.
• Sometimes turning the shower on cold.
• Getting ink stains and a callous on my middle finger.
• Reading Wikipedia summaries of horror movies (though I sometimes actually go to the movies now!
• Stealing mini Oreos from Josh.
• Downing half a water bottle at once.
• Writing with the same pens I loved when I was 14.
• Organizing my clothes by color.
• Flipping through expensive art journaling magazines at Barnes.

What I Admire Most about My Husband.

• He's such a courageous reader. He's tackled terrifying books like Ulysses and War and Peace with curiosity and an open mind.
• He is also a courageous husband and father. He now knows what makes me different and what makes Oliver different. No denial. He has made us feel safer and more loved despite the fact that more challenges will come.
• He's so talented at genealogy research, and he's helped people find out much more about who they are.
• He grew so well into being a daddy.
• He has been determined to protect my unusual friendship.
• He works so hard at his job, and he sees and treats it as a calling.
• He keeps track of my complicated prescriptions.
• He has never raised his voice to me.
• He gets excited with me over little things, and he pays attention to my interests. 
• He is a soothing yet invigorating presence, which is just right for students.

Radiate Joy.

These words were inside a decorative box Mom gave me for Christmas. I wonder if I've ever radiated joy. Maybe during a show. Or at a concert. Definitely when I held Oliver for the first time. Maybe on certain moments of Josh and my wedding day. Giving my mom a Madame Alexander Sleeping Beauty doll. Maybe just a little in front of Valentine's Day displays.

I'm probably more likely to radiate anything when I'm manic. Everything starts boiling over. But early mania, or hypomania, flood me with awareness--heightened everything. It can be thrilling or torturous.

But when I'm well? I can smile. I can keep my head up and make eye contact. I can use the moderate light in me to write, read, love. When I do that, it is visible. It burns just enough.

Ways to Sweeten the Day.

• If you microwave frozen meals at home, after preparing the meal, transfer it to a real bowl or plate rather than using the flimsy tray.
• Keep a cup with pens in your favorite colors on the kitchen counter. Quick messages, scribbles, or doodles don't need to be in business blue or black. Do this for your bedside table too.
• Use foaming hand soap. It doesn't drip or clog like other soaps do. It's also much easier to get the last bit of soap.
• Go ahead and give away the outfit that doesn't fit...or never did. It's not worth the tangle of hope you give it. Something else needs your hope. Find out what it is.
• Have a colorful blanket folded on every couch and armchair. It's cozy, and guests who are always cold won't be embarrassed about asking for heat.
• Create traditions--Don't wait for them to develop over decades. Eat Panera outside on Sundays. Wear a certain necklace when you're in a certain mood.
• Color coordinate something and see how it makes you feel. Monochromatic outfits. A shelf of red books. A large pot of pansies in shades of purple.