This is Sunday

Oh holy hell, what a weird place to be. The mental inner-dialogue is speaking a language made up almost entirely of expletives right now, because I am hypo and it feels like the worst thing in the world. Hypo is the worst thing. Or maybe I’m using absolutes simply because I am in that kind of mood. Either way, I want this mood to sod off and leave me alone.

The problem with being hypo is that it’s a kind of no-man’s land between ‘normal’ (yes please) and full on mania (no thanks). If I was in normal mood territory everything would be fine. If I was manic, I’d likely be acting out but at least I wouldn’t care about the consequences. Instead I’m in the middle, where all I really want is to head to the pub and start sinking pints, or jump on a train somewhere for a while… This mood where I want to do all these things my brain thinks I need, but I’m still ‘me’ enough to know that I shouldn’t misbehave. I hate this.

So, the only good solution I have to these moods is to simply sit on my hands and try to ignore the urges, the need to cut loose and let my hair down. I have to remember that I’m still working on living a normal life, with a normal job and that normalcy is a good thing. It is a good thing.

It is a good thing.

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This is Sunday

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