Good morning

5:31am. Home.

I felt so high the other day. It's how I feel when the fog clears. Like after the rain in LA when it's all beautiful and you can see the Hollywood sign from everywhere it seems. Like that. Then I was even higher the next day. Like I could do anything in the world. Of course I can fly! Of course I can write seven novels this year! Like why didn't I have this idea before? Whatever idea. Then from nowhere it seems, there is the fog to fight again. The clear days are becoming the moments. Not the regular. I hate this thing. I read an article that said the same thing a friend said to me about how I need to give up coffee, sugar and alcohol because of how it triggers the swings. I have given up alcohol. My last drink was a shot of Grey Goose on Christmas. I don't even have the desire for anything else. Now to get this vanilla chai latte and banana bread monkey off my back.

I'm still showing up though. Like, in my life. Going to work, laughing and sharing, writing and returning phone calls, just...just some days are harder to move. I keep judging myself. If I take a day to rest I keep telling myself I'm being weak. I keep telling myself that the rest is checking out. I know it's crazy. Rest is the first thing I always recommend when I hear other people's stories. "Rest, rest, and more rest. Oh, and don't judge yourself." That's me, giving advice and not taking it.

I am giving up the coffee and sugar. Whatever I have to do the stop these cycles. I am. I don't want medication again. I don't wanna live like that. I don't want hospital again. I feel myself though, checking out. Like not wanting to be involved in activities that used to make me happy. Mostly, I'm comfortable at home and that's pretty much it. I enjoy my son, Love, spending time with my family. I am also very careful these days about what I allow myself to take in visually. Sadly, I can no longer do two of my favorite shows: Criminal Minds and Law and Order SVU. I just can't see another dead body. I still write, but my writing is so dark these days. I have to force myself to not write about dead babies and missing children. Some days I win. Some days I don't. I'm a little over the top in my communication with my friends because I don't want them to think I'm in some episode. Even though I usually am. I'm having second thoughts about going to some group therapy for other people with bipolar. I was up for it just a few days ago but now I just think that their stories will depress me. I know that's messed up. Whatever. Maybe tomorrow I will feel differently.

I keep "protecting" my family. I never talk to them about this. Never. Except my uncle Therman. Sometimes I talk to him. But even then it's only when I'm over an episode. Never in the moment. Well, my aunt Val. I talk to her in the moment. Mostly because I know she knows what I'm talking about. Everyone else I just want to be strong for. I want them to count on me for that and not worry about me. I'm ok now. I mean, you know. I'm managing. It's about 6 in the morning now. I'm still in bed. My happy face is over there somewhere. Somewhere. I'll put it on when I get dressed.