For the past month and a half I have been on such a high. Some days the high made me nervous and seemed more than I could take. While it felt good it was still a bit overwhelming. I believed the hype. I thought the doctors were wrong. I was feeling way too good to have what they said I had. Bipolar. There were days I knew I could fly. Ironically, I was in the air when I started to crash.
I was in Washington, D.C. over the weekend working with WomanPreach. As I was in the plane coming home on Sunday I could feel it. The sinking I thought I was through with. Why? Why did I think I was through? Because I just did. Because I had over a month of normal. "Normal." The sinking, the low, low feeling. Then today I crashed like Denzel's plane in Flight. All turned upside down.
It's 5:54pm and I am at home right now but must leave for work in a few minutes. I really wish I could lie here and rest for the night. That would be bliss. It's not likely to happen though. I had to get the stitches pulled out of my gums today and that was...eventful. I couldn't stop crying. I was not in pain. But I was in so much pain. On the way to the dentist, somehow I missed the exit and spent five whole minutes crying over that spilled milk. Bridget called me just as I was pulling into the parking lot and at first I was happy about talking to her and then couldn't take it. She was only being a friend but I couldn't hear her consoling me. I felt weak, like someone who needed to be consoled. But that is what I needed.
I've had a little rest and feel a bit better but I have this headache that I usually have the first day of the crash. I'll be better tomorrow. That's what I'm claiming. Today was hard though. Really hard. It's 6:04 now, I've got to leave for work.