Being a good girl and taking your medication makes you feel safe and reassured that things are going to be stable. Start getting into a daily rhythm and maintaining a regular sleeping pattern because they are what keep the swing at bay. (so the doctors say anyways)
And for a while, things actually are quiet and normal. And boring.
Then, slowly the body clock starts creaking. Able to only sleep later. And later. Oh and hanging out with friends which inevitably involve alcohol so having to skip a few dosages. Suddenly sleep becomes an elusive...female dog. Bipolar affects people differently and for me, once sleep decides to not visit me anymore, I'm pretty much screwed.
The swing comes. It goes high and it's exhilarating. Hm. Maybe it's not so bad! It's awesome! My stuff is all packed and neat! I'm buying this, eating that and going wherever that pops into my mind! This is so FUNNY! That is HILARIOUS!!!
Suddenly something small happens. And this trivial incident, that my friend could not understand why I just was not able to brush off, causes an emotional domino fallout. Despair. Hopelessness. Misery. Warning bells ring and the mad scramble to regain control starts. But when the increased dosage of prescribed sleeping pills does not work as well as it should, that's when one is royally screwed.
Monday is coming again and with that comes work. There is nothing left but the dreaded last resort - anti-psychotics. Maybe no one will notice the aftermath of a mind on the brink of destruction.