One of the biggest battles I face with Bipolar is sleep. My brain refuses to shut itself off at night. I take meds, lots of meds, to try to force myself into a minor coma every night. Sometimes it just doesn’t work. And if it doesn’t work for too long then we have problems.
Anxiety, like what I’ve been fighting against lately, will fuck with sleep. It will actually fuck with sleep almost faster than anything else in my world. I know this. I should have recognized the signs sooner. Hindsight.
I KNOW THIS.
Right now my brain feels like a hamster running on a wheel that’s being controlled by an electric drill. This is Not Good. My doc took one look at me and started sifting through my chart to see where and what we could tweak. We’re adding an additional pill that I already take and another pill that’s new for me.
I’m cautiously optimistic. Cautiously.
What I’m really hoping is that the sleep takes care of the irritability (it should) and that it helps me get back to the things I really enjoy (it should) and that it helps me reconnect with my priorities (so help me god it will).