Robotic List of Symptoms/Promises Kept.‏

I promised a list of my symptoms so that you could see how neatly I fit into the bipolar type two diagnosis.  I put this originally under the tab at the top right marked ‘Info’ alas, I feel as though it may have been missed by many.

– Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity:  during hypomanic episodes that are euphoric in nature I am Bruce Fucking Wayne.  I am the life of the party.

-Decreased need for sleep:  as I have mentioned in my posts I sleep on average four to five hours a night at best and have since my late teens unless I was blackout drunk.

Distractibility:  I intentionally seek out distractions, when none are apparently present.

-Psychomotor agitation:  I unconsciously fidget or gesticulate when I am uncomfortable.

-Excessive involvement in pleasurable activities that have a high potential for painful consequences:  buying sprees, drug and alcohol abuse, casual sex.

-Racing thoughts:  brilliant or terrible connections, rapid and constant.

-Irritability:  I rant.  I get way more angry than I should over things that most people don’t even think about.  Yes, I have outburst while I am driving, but later I really don’t care.

-Radical honesty:  I offend people by withholding nothing, it makes people uncomfortable around me at times and I recognize this.

-Depression:  Obviously.  Otherwise this would be a blog about how amazing I am and why I am so much better than everyone else (which wouldn’t be true).

-Pressured speech:  I didn’t originally list this but I rant like a motherfucker.

Not all people who suffer from BPII experience every single symptom.  Even if they do they may not experience them severely nor frequently.  I happen to experience them all relatively regularly and severely.  So there you have it.  Technically I don’t think that radical honesty is actually a symptom but I include it because it is behavioural and seems to be a shared feature of bipolar.

The medication is working as Dr. Saint claimed it would ever so gradually.  Before the meds at any given time I would have several different threads of thought running through my mind and I would have troubles focusing on one of them.  This made certain types of thinking difficult for me, which as someone who is reasonably intelligent is embarrassing.  I was having the right thoughts, I just wasn’t capable of pulling them forth or bringing them to the forefront of my mind.  Sometimes this would be so challenging that the activity of beginning a given task was unimaginably daunting and I seemed lazy or reluctant.  Not so, the thoughts and ideas were present, just veiled and not co-operative.  Other times however all of these threads would coincide, the planets would aline and I would get all engines on full.  This was a powerful blessing.  Having a swift mind is one thing, but having several in one skull is a rare gift.  Granted, with the meds I have quelled a few of these “minds” and now I only get one or two at best and they may not even be as swift.  Alas, they are focused, firing and doing so on command.  It is nice to be Sherlock Holmes in fits and bursts, but I would much rather be a capable and reliable Dr. Watson.   As it turns out being less inspired and better organized is the vastly superior option in nearly every regard.  I can cite from experience many fine examples, nearly every person I have ever gone to school of any kind with.  Not to say that I was more gifted than every single one of them, but I can say with certainty that nearly all of my peers were more organized than me.

At this point I have limited options for “living up to my potential” as Dr. Saint claims I will do.  I would love to return to school for at least a bachelor’s of journalism, but this would take four years and put me in competition for a job with mid-twenty-somethings with me in my forties.  I would also be way over my head in debt at that point as I kind of already am.  The education would be excellent though the employment would be horrible.  Four years in school (that I likely can’t get into) to scrap for a non-staff internship with no benefits and about as much pay as McDonalds?  People who work at McDonalds are starting to look like geniuses.  Drug dealers are starting to look like gods.  Weapon dealers are starting to look like nightmares that gods have.  I should sell guns.  The medication is only starting to work and as I have mentioned there is a nihilistic bias.  My best shot at a future beyond sticking it out at what I am doing now is to write.  Just write books.  Good, bad, fiction, science fiction, fantasy, romance and horror.  I will save the Non fiction for myself.  Oh, and you guys of course.  Because I love you.  There is plenty more to come I have already got some other things hatched and half bashed into my laptop so keep an eye out.


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