I'm not doing as well as I might be--bad week, but if I get enough rest this weekend, I might be better. And since so many people have been by, I guess I better start writing again. I'll check back tonight.

x's & o's.

If I could tell what's made me suddenly normal, I'd bottle it, because it feels wonderful. I felt down last week, when I was suddenly hit with the summer flu, but that was understandable (nothing drags you down like clogged sinuses). For everyone out there, I say: Hang on. It will get better. Sooner or later, you just have to be there, waiting for it.

The propblem with this illness is it makes you feel good, so good that you often forget you were recently feeling bad. When I feel better, I usually can't remember how bad I felt, or how long ago it was, even if it was just yesterday. I know it's often like this for others.

The best you can do is force yourself to recall not only how you felt, but when and why, and what caused it. Feeling better, you need to consider, am I manic? or just feeling better? and if so, how long have I felt this way? For me, it's only been one week, and that's hardly a ripple in the pool of my illness.

My therapist has cautioned me not to think of myself as my illness, as someone who has bipolar and therefore can't trust my feelings. I'm still working on that one. It's very hard, when my feelings flipflop so readily. It takes practice, to consider that you have an illnes, not that you are an illness.

This week, it was my job (as usual). Our building's owner came to the office building I work at over the weekend, and I met him at a secure garage he keeps his personal items in. It was a pretty typical thing. Then, after he was gone, I started worrying. Maybe he'd just come to test our response time? Maybe I should have asked to see his ID? Maybe this was some setup to fire me for failure to act properly?

Of course, my head took off and ran with it. Telling myself that these thoughts were ridiculous and grandiose did absolutely no good at all. I could only manage by not thinking at all. A dreadful way to spend a weekend. Of course, when I went back to work, no one even mentioned the incident.

Paranoia. It's a less-than-fun part of bipolar disorder. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do but hang on, grit your teeth, and try and keep it from getting psychotic on you. It's tough, but there are no easy answers in bipolar.

Feeling good is not that rare for me, but it does always end at some time. If I could change anything about me, it would be to relax and enjoy feeling well, and let the chips fall where they may. I'd like to feel normal, and not have to worry about whether I'm too high or manicky.

It's something I'm working on with my therapist, this feeling well sensation. I'd like to be, not happy or overjoyed, but just well. Just normal.

If you feel like a drug or therapy regimen isn't working, you need to tell your dr. so he/she can adjust your treatment. This can be scary. After all, your dr. knows a bunch of stuff you don't.

My advice to you is to educate yourself as much as possible about your illness. Learn about all the meds on the market, not just the flavor of the week (Is it prozac? Or zoloft?) Learn about the side effects, in case your dr. doesn't tell you about them. The more you learn, the less godlike your dr. will become.

Know your symptoms. You should be able to tell if you are feeling unusually high or low, or if you are cycling again. Don't let your dr brush these things aside. If you feel you need to adjust your meds, tell your dr. so.

Remember, you're the one who's sick. Not your dr. Know your illness. Direct your recovery.

I started seeing a therapist, the first real therapist I've had in many, many years. She has me doing art therapy, despite the fact all I can draw is little stick figures. In three sessions, we've discovered I'm preoccupied with loss and change and that leads to depression. We've also learned I'm very out of touch with my emotions.

It's the meds, of course. The same meds that even out the swings that make it so I don't know which feelings are genuine, put a barrier between me and my real feelings. I know they're down there, but it's going to take a lot of work to bring that wall down. Berlin was probably easier.

So I'm swinging from a knot on the end of a long rope. I've been here before. I know I can do it. It's not much fun, but I've done it before. I can do it again.

WARNING: I'LL BE TALKING ABOUT SELF INJURY. IF THIS IS A BAD TOPIC FOR YOU, STOP READING NOW.

So, I wasn't feeling very good. I was, in fact, feeling kind of disassociated from myself. I had this weird interlude at work, where I got off the elevator and couldn't remember where I was or why I was there. It only lasted a second, but it was scary, nonetheless. When I get these disassociated feelings, they always go hand in hand with needing to cut myself. This time, I held it off for two days, but the need got too strong. I never cut deep, just enough to hurt and see blood. What made this time unusual was that I did it at work. (I ruined two work shirts, getting lots of blood on the sleeves)

I've known a lot of bipolars who self-injure. Usually, it happens during what's called "mixed" states. The best way to describe these states is feeling depressed and anxious at the same time. You feel nervous and hopeless and manic and suicidal all at once. Nerves sing like high-tension wires. Any release is a welcome release, and cutting is such a release.

If you do self injure, don't feel all alone. Nothing is as isolating as being a self-cutter, but there are websites that provide forums for those of us who have this secret shame, and will talk to you and hold your imaginary hand while you go through the despair. And they won't judge you while you do it. You can even search them through Google.

As a self-injurer, let me close by saying this: Don't be afraid to tell someone. Even the embarassment of telling someone isn't as bad as suffering alone. I was shocked and surprised when I finally told my mom, and she didn't have a fit or get upset. She asked a few questions, then told me she would pay for me to see a therapist, which I havent' been doing. It was nowhere near as bad as I thought. Tell someone, even if it's online. Don't suffer alone.

If you're bipolar, not sleeping is a deadly symptom. It's always a sign you're manic or hypomanic, and that always means you're going to crash. It may seem wonderful at the time--who doesn't need more hours in the day to finish projects, clean the bathroom, pet the cat, etc? But who needs the crash afterward? It's never worth it.

If you find you're not sleeping, get yourself to the doctor. It's time for a med adjustment. I didn't do that, to my near-regret. I only saved myself through a brief, blinding moment of sanity that made me back out of the job interview I had that would have given me a worse, lower-paying job than the job I have now. God moves in mysterious ways, as does this disease. You have to learn to listen.

I drink way too much caffeine. That's probably part of the trouble. I also work swing shift, which means here I am at 2 in the morning, when normal people are abed, busily typing away. I make up for it by sleeping 10 hours anyway, from about 4 to 2 p.m. It's not the best sleep pattern, but it's one I maintain, so at least I'm regular. Besides getting enough sleep, us bipolars need regularity.

So, get to bed, get enough rest, stay regular. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Then why's it always so hard?

It just doesn't take much to make me depressed, and now I'm twice as upset because I just don't see any point in continuing with anything. Any job I want, with the County or the city, they're going to ask if I've ever used drugs and I'll have to say yes, because it's true, and then they'll "disqualify" me. It was nearly 20 years ago! Doesn't that count for something? I hate life.

So I'll never get what I want because I was stupid when I was young & didn't know what I wanted from life. Life sucks. They never let you forget. I hate life.

A good support group gives you, well, support. You should feel comfortable within the group, and after a couple of meetings feel safe enough to share everything about yourself. You should trust the group to keep your secrets, give you positive reinforcement and supportive feedback, and intervention when you need it. If you don't get this within the first 3 or 4 meetings, you should find another group.

Finding a good support group is kind of like finding a good therapist. It's kind of hit and miss. You have no choice but to go to a group and feel it out first, to see if you like it, if it's a good fit, and so on. But trust your instincts. If you don't feel comfortable right away, then it's not the group for you.

The best way to know if it's the right group is how they deal with you when you are depressed. If you go into a group feeling really down, and they understand, let you talk at your own rate, give you as much time as you need, and give you good advice afterward, then its a good group. If, as in a group I know of near where I live, they use a kitchen timer to restrict you to a five-minute share, then its a bad group. You should leave.

I've been going to school and working. Work has been the physical part of my life. I'm a security officer (sigh), patrolling a mostly-empty office building at night. Well, it keeps me moving, anyway, and the pay's not bad for what I have to do. School is the mental part. I'm working towards my Bachelor's in Criminal Justice, and classes are both fun and demanding. I enjoy the work, but my God, it doesn't leave me much time to do anything else!

Like this. I know I should have made time for this too, I do have my responsibilities, but I've been sleeping late. Right now it's 1 a.m. and I ought to be sleeping, but I forgot my meds today and it's too late to take them now. So I'll be awake for a while.

So much for me. But keeping busy is a very important part of staying healthy. If you've got a depressive tendency, it's a very bad idea to sit home alone in front of the TV set, gazing blankly at flickering images of nothing. For starters, news will make you very depressed if you weren't already, so that lets news channels out. And really, what are you going to watch? If you truly can't get yourself moving, at least read a book.

I keep a whole shelf full of children's books: Laura Ingalls Wilder, Walter Farley, relics of my childhood now held together with scotch tape. I keep these for times when I'm depressed. It really doesn't take much more effort to read "Little House on the Prairie" than it does to watch "I Love Lucy", and it at least stimulates the mind. I recommend the same to you. Children's books, Harlequin romances, simple-minded stuff that doesn't require a lot of thought but it still beats "General Hospital."

If you can, go for a short walk. Reward yourself at the end of it. I sometimes take walks to the corner liquor store just to buy myself a candy bar. This gets me moving, and also gets me out of the house. Who cares if you eat, at this point. Just getting some blood circulating is a big plus.

Those are the two things I've found help a lot. I've been walking a lot lately, and reading more than I care to relate. Maybe that's why I've been feeling so good. After all, it was only in May I was in the hospital. Reading and walking: A quick restorative from depression.

Of course, the first thing that leapt into my mind is, they'll probably decide to fire me because I can't work. It's surprising, how quickly your bipolar mind takes over and foresees the worst possible outcome for any event. I had to spend several minutes arguing with myself, telling my silly mind that of course, they wouldn't fire me on account of an accident, since I'd be back on my feet within a week.

That's the way of it with bipolar. It takes the bad and instantly makes it worst. If there's something bad that can happen, your bipolar mind runs with it. David Burns calls this "fortune telling" in his excellent book "Feeling Good".

Well, I'm off to take more aspirin for my aching ankle. I'm feeling better now than I was yesterday, and able to walk a little better. I should be okay by tomorrow. It's only a sprain. It's not the end of the world.

Well, I got a job. The interviewer liked my resume, and hired me right on the spot. I was, needless to say, very happy, and of course, immediately started worrying they'd take back the offer. They do a background check, since it's a security job, and I, as always, worried that my past arrest record would pop up. It never has, but I always worry. Then I worried that they'd talk to my past employers and I'd get a negative referral. I never have, and my last 2 employers both assured me they'd give me good references, but of course that's not good enough for my manic depressive brain. I'd always rather dwell on the insignificant negatives than the tremendous positives. *Sigh*

To people with bipolar, I recommend taking it slow. You can apply for jobs online nowadays, and it's a good place to start. It takes the stress out of at least one part of the job hunting process- you don't have to trek around filling out applications all over the place, but can do it from the safety of your own home. Then you can slowly go out for interviews and work yourself in that way.

Try not to worry too much. I know, that's like saying to a thirsty person, don't drink too much, but really, if you can only do one thing in your job search, don't worry. Something will come along. If I can do it, I know you can.

Happy is when your meds are working. I feel fine. It's rare enough I don't have swings, even little ones, but I've been good except for one day this entire last month. That's a good thing.

Hate to sound like I'm gloating, but it's just such an uncommon occurrence with me. Even being broke and poor can't stop me from being happy. I just hope it lasts.