It’s month three of manic symptoms. I’m hesitant to call it a manic episode. I’d say hypomanic, but there are symptoms that surpass that. I’m hesitant because the intensity of my symptoms are relatively low. Also, I don’t trust my own diagnoses. The primary solutions are hyperactivity in blogging (2-3 posts a day), hypersexuality, and explosive bursts of rage.
The blogging is harmless, but the others are destructive. My strategy has been when in doubt don’t go out. And so, I’m becoming a recluse. Yesterday, I picked up take out for dinner, came home, took my meds, put on my pajamas, and got into bed. I avoided contact with as many people as possible. I didn’t leave the bedroom for several hours until I felt good enough that I could watch Silicon Valley with my son.
I have not treated my son poorly throughout this episode. Most of my anger has been focused on my wife and daughter. I really don’t know why. Teenage girls can aggravate anyone, especially one with bipolar. I’m not sure what’s going on with my wife, but I have very little patience for her usual spousal stuff.
But is being a recluse a good strategy for dealing with grumpy and super-sexual behavior? It seems like a wise solution in the short-term. I ordered my groceries online with Walmart to avoid my cute checkout girl crush even though I detest Walmart. But what about the long term? When if this is the new normal and I will never return to my previous level state? I don’t want to be so limited.
The truth is, people with bipolar are limited. It is a disability after all. We have limitations. Our dis-abilities vary based on the person and their mood. In my case, right now, I haven’t been able to be around certain women because I can’t predict how I will behave around them. I can go swim at the Y, but I can’t get into the hot tub. I recently found myself connecting with a woman whom, if we’d been left alone, I would have done anything with. I was just that close to committing a marriage-ending adultery and getting kicked out of the YMCA OR arrested and put on the sex offenders’s list.
I have limitations, and that is very hard to accept, but I’m getting better at it. I’m self-limiting myself, rather than putting my wife in a position to do it. And right now, my self-limiting is holding up in my bedroom until I’m good; a recluse.