Self Awareness

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A lot has been written about Bi-Polar Disorder (BPD) I and II already so I shan't go through all that medical diagnosis stuff. As much as I am not keen on putting human beings into boxes and reducing them to just their symptoms, I do find the distinction between BPD I & II useful.

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I have had an interesting few days - weeks actually. Ever since I came to the realisation that I had probably arrived at the point in my recovery when I needed to change my medication, I have been on a nerve-racking little journey and I am watching myself like a hawk ....

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There are many days when the frustration I feel about my unreliable level of energy spills into my dreams - more specifically my morning 'vivid' dream (see my description of them in Medication: Friend or Foe?).

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I don't like depending on pills - nobody does. Having said that, ever since I was prescribed the cocktail of drugs I am currently on, I have been resolutely diligent in following my prescription, that is until two days ago.

The evening medication I take has always been 'heavy' for me. From the beginning, side effects have included:

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Good grief! I can hardly stand it. Today, I was so low on energy that I stressed all day because I knew I needed to go to the bank that is located twenty-five minute walk from where I live. In the end, I had to borrow some change for the parking meter in town because I had to drive myself.

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Yesterday I had a good cry. How can I tell it was a 'good' cry as opposed to a 'bad' cry or even a mediocre one? I have a failsafe way of telling the difference: my energy goes up afterwards and I feel a lot better about feeling bad.

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Ah...  that troublesome word :'mood'.... What is it exactly?....

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I think I spoke too soon. There I was wondering whether I would soon need to decrease my medication and the old depression decided to kick in BIG time, just to remind me of what I would be like without the tablets.

Over the last two days, I have started to feel locked behind bars again, a prisoner of my bi-polar disorder.

I know only too well that my illness is two things:

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I have reached an interesting point in my recovery. I say 'interesting' but I am not being totally honest: I should really say 'scary'. It is scary because I have been there before AND because I have never been there before.

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If I sit still and quiet for any length of time, straight away my head feels like it is stretching outwards like an inflating balloon. This is fascinating to me even if it is a little odd.

When I first experienced this, it was a strange feeling. Nowadays I enjoy it. I get a sense of 'super awareness', as if my senses were suddenly sharper.

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