This afternoon (as I have Twittererered), I have a battle in my skull. A stinking headache (migraine?) is fighting against awful, intrusive thought for dominance. I want to lay down. I want to pick a fight. I want to take paracetamol. I want a drink. I want to sleep. I want to go out. I want to sleep. Yes, I want to sleep.
So there’s our compromise. Sleep would be a fine thing, if I could manage to slow down enough to get some. Ever had too much caffeine? That feeling that you’re running way ahead of the pack, and you’re going to make your personal best time in the marathon we call life? That’s my mind, except instead of a race track I have a mission to reach Mars by dinner time.
Eesh. Kinda sucks right? I did a post about counting my blessings, but I think I’m past that point. The benefits of hypomania (mania now?) are trampled on by the downsides. Like fleeting thoughts in my mind that I’m not sure even belong to me – how can gentle, quiet me think of hurting another human?
Vaguely homicidal ideation is a new one on me. Normally Eve is my source of selflessness but I guess she’s asleep. Actually, I know she is; there’s only one personality in my head currently. I miss her; and there’s three words I never thought I’d say.
To wrap up this rather brief post I will remind myself to look out for myself. I am my own best advocate and my own best friend. Be kind to yourself, Alex; you deserve it.