A Day in the Life of a Manic Depressive

Her plan was two-fold: she prescribed a small dose of Seroquel, an atypical antipsychotic used most commonly to treat bipolar disorder I (to prevent mania) and schizophrenia, to help me sleep and to bring me down and level me out; she also lowered my dose of Zoloft by a third, to prevent hypomanic cycles as we enter summer, when the sun can sometimes off-set depression, especially in people like me who live outside with their kids at the pool.

So what the heck triggered this? Three things, I think:

* April is a dangerous month for me in this regard, because I always feel a spike of energy and drive. Spring fever can very easily morph into a hypomanic cycle.

* I reconnected with an old friend I have missed dearly for the last three years. Just as I grieved our friendship needing some space three years ago, I couldn't help but celebrate our reunion. I am sincerely joyful to have him in my life again.

* I was thrilled and animated about a new friendship with a woman with whom I connect on such a deep level. She genuinely "gets" me, and I don't experience that chemistry all that often. I shared with her my manuscript "Beyond Blue," the book version of this blog, and her positive feedback had me so ecstatic that I was imitating my Lab-Chow mixes when they were excited puppies: circling the floor and eventually peeing on the carpet.

Now, the hard part of admitting you are in a hypomanic cycle means that you have to work extremely hard at calming yourself down, at deep breathing, and at not pursuing anything that might rev you up. That last requirement is by far, for me, the hardest.

Because in addition to being manic depressive, I am an addict. I LOVE buzzes. Any type that feels good. BRING IT ON! So when I experience the adrenaline rush, my natural instinct to do everything and anything to sustain it. When what I should do is just the opposite. Like I said in my post about sleep hygiene, you have to take the advice of Doc to Lightening McQueen (in the movie, "Cars," for those of you without young boys): turn left to go right.

An example. Yesterday a good friend told me he got booked on my favorite TV show, and that he had one extra ticket besides the ones he's giving to his family members. He offered it to me.

"Hell yes! I'm coming!!" I wanted to e-mail back as soon as I got his message.

Instead, I breathed. Then I called my doctor. "Do you think this is the sort of thing that I probably shouldn't do right now?"

"Yes."

"Damn it."

But I didn't stop there. I asked Eric if he minded if I took the train up, met some friends, stayed over night and came back the next day.

He looked at me with a very exhausted expression and asked me, "Do you absolutely have to do this? Because the roller coaster that you've been on the last week isn't just tiring to you, you know."

Crap. He's got a point. For a minute there, I forgot I had a family who needs and depends on me.

Moreover, as I thought about the last hypomanic cycle three years ago that preceded my two hospital stays, it had a similar pattern. I got excited, took a train up to New York, and made some impulsive decisions there that hurt some of my important relationships.

Shame on my disease the first time. Shame on me the second and third and fourth time.

So, this brings me to today. Working hard at staying calm, and resisting anything remotely exciting ... staying home with the family and renting "The Bad News Bears" (FYI: not appropriate for kids ... oops) and eating pizza rather than sitting in the audience of my favorite show and meeting the producers in the green room. Yawn. That sounds boring anyway, right?

Thank you, Larry, for asking me to be honest. And thank you, dear Beyond Blue readers, for caring about the small stuff in my life: like med changes, hypomanic cycles, and the roller coaster days you probably know all too well.