“Are you interested in medication?”
I’d just finished explaining the manic episode I’d had a few weeks before. A textbook case, according to my therapist. An option for subduing my specific crazy would be two pills – one for the high, and another for the low.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I considered it. For about five seconds.
“I don’t think I can. My best ideas come during the manic periods. It’s the low that sucks.”
That’s the rub right there. When I’m on the manic high of my “classic” bipolar episodes, I work more, talk faster, think more, and come up with great ideas. Okay, sure, maybe I think they’re “great” and they could be crap, but hello, Loving BDSM was born during (what I now know was) a manic episode.
During those periods I can do All The Things, and I want to do them All The Time. And for a brief time, I do. I work as late as John Brownstone will let me. I keep a running (and very long) to-do list. I make plans. I make more lists. I research.
My anthem becomes (well, at least the first line of it):
And yes, this is going on while I keep up with my normal workload and my normal family and D/s responsibilities. Interesting side note – during a manic period, I really hate my boring vanilla work. It’s no fun. It doesn’t fill me with joy. It doesn’t get me high.
Oh, and during a manic period, I want All The Sex, too. If that’s not a reason to keep your crazy, I don’t know what is.
Ultimately, as long as my depressive lows don’t lend themselves to self-harm or suicidal thoughts, I probably won’t change a thing.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say this bipolar part of me is a little scary. The mania is a high. I can see where it would be addictive. But is it real?
If I can convince myself that the depression isn’t “real” and isn’t a reflection of who I really am as a person (Depressed me is a total bitch), then doesn’t that mean the manic me isn’t real, either?
The on-going conversation in my head centers around a couple of questions. Who the hell am I? Can I trust whatever version of me shows up on any given day?
And that leads to anxiety. Which has kicked my ass for the past few days.
Anxiety brings a lack of focus, zero decision-making skills, and enough self doubt to make me nauseous. It’s not pretty.
There is a bright side to all of this.
Whether because I’m fortunate enough to have an excellent Dominant (no doubt there) or some other reason I haven’t figured out yet, our kink and D/s don’t seem to be too negatively affected by my crazy.
Well, sort of.
In a depressed period, I’m incapable of the physical aspects of submission. Numbness and feeling empty do that to a person.
During an anxious period (like now), I have a short temper and little patience. Hard to be a demur, polite submissive babygirl when you’re biting people’s heads off.
And yet, I crave the discipline, boundaries, and expectations of our D/s dynamic. They’re a constant in a sea of turbulence – a buoy to attach myself to.
But in a manic state? I’m bending, kneeling, going, and doing anything and everything John Brownstone needs. Hell, I’m coming up with things I can do for him. I become Super Babygirl, capable of leaping buildings in a single bound (or at least taking a beating until I’m bruised).
It’s exhausting – to think about and deal with. But, ahhhh, the high of the manic state draws me in, convinces me life will always be this good, that I will always be this productive, and the Best Submissive Ever.
I don’t have any answers. Mostly questions and concerns. For right now, the only thing that really feels right (to me) is to embrace this wacky, wild life.
And in the meantime, I’ll make this my anthem as often as possible:
Welcome to Wicked Wednesday (it’s been a while for me). This week’s prompt was to take a line of our national anthem and write a sexy story. Nothing sexy came to mind, but anthems fit in with my thoughts – because music is a very personal thing, and the strangest songs speak to me sometimes. If diving into my mind is exhausting and overwhelming (I get it, y’all), go read some smut for Wicked Wednesday, instead!