Bipolar 2 From Inside and Out

Prayer and Bipolar Disorder

August 18, 2024

My mother believed in the power of prayer, and thought I should do more of it. I can’t say she was wrong. She prayed for self-improvement (for God to take away her bitterness at a relative) and for social issues (returning prayer to schools). I don’t know whether she ever prayed for an end to my bipolar disorder (she kept most of her praying private between her and God), but I never have. I don’t think it works that way.

So, what do I think about bipolar disorder and prayer? I think there are many things about bipolar disorder that you could pray about.

You could pray that science finds better treatments for bipolar disorder.

You could pray that you find a support system that helps you (or give thanks for the one you already have).

You could pray that you find a therapist, or a therapy, or a psychiatrist, or a medication that helps you. (Though I would recommend putting some effort into doing this one yourself as well as praying.)

You could pray that you have the strength to get out of bed in the morning or the peace to sleep at night.

You could pray for understanding of what you’re going through—from another person, an employer, the world at large, or even yourself.

You could pray that you don’t do too much harm while in the grip of mania or depression.

You could pray that you will recognize when someone is reaching out to you and that you will have the ability to accept.

You could pray that you have the courage to reach out to someone else, and the wisdom to keep reaching.

In my opinion, what you can’t do is “pray away” the bipolar disorder. If you’ve got it, you have to find a way to live with it. If prayer helps you do that, more power to you. But, again, in my opinion, prayer is not a cure for the disorder. There are some things that are meant for religion or philosophy to make better, and things that science has a better shot at.

You can point to various miraculous remissions of cancer or other diseases, or make the argument that removing demonic possession would now be called healing of mental illness. And if those give you comfort or hope, again, good for you.

St. Dymphna is the patron saint of the mentally afflicted (though personally, I think she should be the patron saint of abused children). If she, or God, or some other higher power of whatever religion or denomination or sect can lessen your suffering, go for it.

I just don’t believe that you—or I—personally will be cured of bipolar disorder by prayer.

Feel free to disagree with me.

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Meltdown

August 11, 2024

I haven’t had a meltdown in a good, long while. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. But this week, I had one.

What brought it on? As usual, too many crises all hitting at once. One of every kind—financial, legal, emotional, work, medical, and family. The kind with no obvious solutions.

Individually, I’ve had versions of all these crises before, and gotten through them somehow. I’ve developed any number of coping mechanisms that I can pull out of a hat if I need to. But the hat holds only so much. I can’t keep pulling things out of it if there are no more in there. Hence, the meltdown.

I often turn to my husband when I have a meltdown, but this time I can’t. He’s having a meltdown of his own. It isn’t identical to mine, but they do overlap. Neither one of us has much to offer the other. We do try to support each other to the extent of our abilities. But there’s no denying that we’re both depleted, with not much ability to soothe or strategize.

One thing I could do, and did, was call on a friend so I could let it all out. I’ve known him for years, and he’s seen this happen to me before. And, wonder of wonders, one of the first things he asked was whether I needed advice on my problems or just a listening ear. I chose the listening. What I needed most at that point was to let it all out. And I did.

Once that happened, I was able to pick myself back up and start coming up with solutions. Moving money around. Getting a lawyer. Gathering phone numbers and making calls. Taking notes. Helping my husband calm down when he was having a panic attack and a meltdown of his own.

Another thing I did was reconnect with my therapist. I hadn’t had a session in a few years. She had moved to another practice, I was fairly stable, and our sessions had gotten shorter and shorter because I just didn’t have issues that needed addressing. I had sensibly put the new practice’s number in my phone, just in case. I used it, and within a day heard back from her. I have an appointment scheduled for next week.

I know I’ve done the right things, the things most likely to help resolve the problems, but somehow that doesn’t help yet. I need to get all the assorted crises worked out or at least put on hold before I can return to something resembling stability. Next week will be a rough one, and my phone friend may just get another call. I don’t want to overburden him, but honestly, it’s been years since he’s dealt with me in the middle of a meltdown. I anticipate that Monday will be particularly difficult, with two crises, one major and one relatively minor coming to a head then.

I’m trying to shut down my emotions as much as possible in order to get through all this. I know that’s not ideal, but honestly, I don’t see how I’ll manage without doing that. Of course, that makes the meltdown afterward more likely and potentially more severe. I need to make sure that all my meds are refilled and try to establish a better sleeping schedule, which has been eluding me lately.

Time to make phone calls now, and more later. Wish me luck.

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Mental Health

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Ratting Out Max

August 4, 2024

I knew Max and his wife Sheila for a long time. We went to large gatherings together. We all loved mysteries and fantasy books and swapped them back and forth. Max and I both studied martial arts and compared styles. Whenever I wrote an article for a martial arts magazine, he had me autograph it. When they moved to a big house in the country, I spent time there. We went antiquing. I got to know their children, some of whom are still my friends today.

When I was editing a magazine, both Max and Sheila wrote for me. Max sent me copy in envelopes addressed to Fearless, Crusading Editor and variations thereof. He called me a lot too, about the magazine or just to talk, back in the day before bosses monitored their employees’ phone calls quite so assiduously.

They weren’t just a couple to me. They were individual friends. And they trusted that I wouldn’t go running to the other if they told me personal things. I didn’t tell Sheila that Max had a financial reverse that he hadn’t told her about. I didn’t tell Max that Sheila had a medical issue she wasn’t ready to discuss. I figured such things were theirs to work out. And I didn’t tell Max that Sheila meant to divorce him on a certain date. Again, it seemed to me that it was not my place to be a go-between.

It wasn’t an amicable divorce. Max didn’t want a divorce at all. Sheila was adamant that she did. Max asked me to find articles on how bad divorce was for the kids and talk to Sheila. I never did. I didn’t feel it was my place.

Then one day Max called me. I knew it was going to be a serious, difficult conversation. In it, he expressed suicidal ideation. I tried all the things you’re supposed to do. I asked if he had eaten or slept recently. I encouraged him to do so. I asked if he could listen to the music he loved. I asked if he had talked to his psychiatrist or a religious counselor. I asked if he had a plan.

He did. There was a gun in the house.

And I ratted him out.

I knew the name of his therapist, and I called him. And I called Sheila, and I told her. I didn’t want her to come home from work and find his dead body.

Max forgave me for calling his therapist. He never forgave me for calling Sheila. I saw him in public a few times after that, and he was dismissive and rude. I didn’t try to maintain the connection after that.

I stayed close with Sheila for a while until she gave up on my depressive behavior, fearing that I might be suicidal, too. But that’s another story.

To this day, I miss Max’s presence in my life. I read a book or an article and think, “Max would like that.”

And to this day, I can’t feel regret for ratting him out. I feel I did what I had to for my friend. If the same situation arose today, I would do exactly the same, even though it meant losing my friend. At least he’s still alive.

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Mental Health

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Murder and Mental Illness

July 28, 2024

Murder is associated in the public mind with brain illnesses, particularly schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and PTSD. David Hogg, anti-gun activist and mass shooting survivor has a lot to say about the topic: “If you believe it’s mental illness, call your reps and ask that they fund mental h[ealth] programs in our schools and communities. I don’t agree it’s mental illness that causes these shootings But we do need more funding for mental health programs to reduce the growing rate of suicide.”

Hogg has said that systemic poverty, race, and hatred are bigger motivators of mass shootings than mental illness. He also notes, “I do think it’s important to note the shooter at my high school had tons of mental health stuff. From my understanding, … there were school psychologists, there were therapists, there were all these different things involved. And I don’t think one more therapist would have made the difference for him. We need to put our politics aside, and get something done.”

The assassination attempt on former President Trump has stirred up the debate again. The assumption that mental illness is the cause of public acts of violence persists. The usual suspects include bullying, psychotropic medication, and social isolation. There have also been a lot of conspiracy theories and blame tossed around. It was Democrats. It was a “false flag” operation. It was staged. It was a foreign plot. The injury was minor. The injury almost took his life. (There may well be more I haven’t heard.)

I fully expect the mental illness hue and cry to start. In fact, it’s already begun. There have been reports that Thomas Crooks sought information on major depressive disorder and was bullied at school. (He was 20 years old when he fired at Trump. Apparently, he committed no violence while at school.) I stress that these are not facts. They have only been reported in the media and tempered by the term “allegedly.”

Personally, I don’t accept such reports at face value. Media reports in the aftermath of a shooting have so often turned out to be unwarranted, misguided, or premature. I prefer to wait for more reliable, less heated reporting that comes from official sources who have actual knowledge of the situation.

I will say that major depressive disorder is a disorder that leads to violence against oneself rather than others. Even if the Crooks did have it (not proven), it seems unlikely that it was a factor in the incident. Depression more often results in suicidal ideation or attempted or completed suicide than in homicide. That he might have been seeking “suicide by cop” is even more unsupported so far and probably unknowable.

It may be true that Crooks had a mental illness, but we don’t know that yet—if we ever will—and there are other possible explanations for his actions, including garden-variety hatred, violent extremism, and political motivation.

What I do think we know is that mental illness will once again be assumed to be the cause by both the public at large and the media. They may even find some psychological “experts” who never met Crooks and never treated him to expound on his diagnosis or motivation in media interviews. That’s usually the course these things follow. Lilliana Mason, a political scientist at Johns Hopkins University, said today, “It sounds like he was relatively isolated and troubled, sad and looking for attention.”

I also firmly believe that this incident will make no difference whatsoever in the debate on gun control. And if mental illness is the cause, it will be acknowledged as a Bad Thing but will not result in any initiative that would provide funding for better care of those with SMI. A massive tut-tut and a hearty shrug are about all I expect.

I’d love to be proved wrong.

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What Does FINE Mean?

July 21, 2024

I get tired of acronyms—letters that spell out a word and may also stand for the first letters of a word. NASA is okay with me, but I dislike SMART goals, TSA, ATF, and every other government agency. Even more annoying are ones that go on too long and are mystifying to those not already in the know. For example, HHGttG stands for Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy to SF (science fiction) fans or SMoF (Secret Masters of Fandom).

There are also lots of slogans that make more or less sense, depending. Just Say No. Just Do It. Me Too. Hold My Beer. Keep on Truckin’.

Plenty of acronyms are associated with mental illness, too. SMI. AOT. CARE Courts. BPD. There’s also the infamous FINE. When someone asks how you are and you tell them, “fine,” what that really stands for is Freaked out (or fucked up), Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional (or empty).

One acronym I’ve been seeing lately is ASK, which stands for Acknowledge, Support, Keep-in-touch. It’s meant to be the “Stop, Drop, and Roll” of how to help a friend who’s having emotional difficulties. I’ve seen PSA (another acronym) ads promoting it on Showtime and MTV (another acronym that is no longer valid). As slogans go, it’s not too bad, although Acknowledge seems a little vague until it’s explained, but Support and Keep-in-touch are pretty clear.

The acronym ASK is associated with the Active Minds organization. Their website is easily findable if you enter “Active Minds” into Google. (The search term ASK brings up too many unrelated hits.) The website it takes you to offers interactive YouTube and “digital experience” links that demonstrate the principles.

Less memorable is ALGEE Assess risk, Listen nonjudgmentally, Give reassurance and information, Encourage appropriate help, and Encourage self-help. It’s a “Mental Health First Aid Action Plan” for helping someone in mental or emotional distress. Assess risk refers to risk of suicide, which may be too complicated a task for non-professionals. The second E, Encourage self-help, refers to suggesting “self-care, self-help strategies, or other ways to get support, such as going out for coffee to talk things over.” Personally, I think the acronym ALGEE is not very memorable and the explanation of the letters is not exactly intuitive.

The slogan that I found most puzzling (although it did get my attention, so it was effective there) is “Seize the Awkward.” The phrase focuses on the idea that, while it may feel a little difficult or awkward to speak to a friend about mental health concerns, you should accept that feeling as natural, then move past the awkwardness and start a helpful or meaningful conversation. The Seize the Awkward website has a lot to offer. There are nine ads for young adults featuring popular or famous spokespeople from music, sports, and other categories. The Ad Council has also provided GIFs, Instagram images, and posters you can use to spread awareness on your own site or location. There is a Campus Toolkit which includes resources on break-ups, loss, suicide, LGBTQ suicide, and racism.

I hereby retract my objection to Seize the Awkward because of its memorability and thoroughness. It’s wonderful. Right up there with Just Do It.

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My Brazen Hussy Phase

July 14, 2024

This is me in my Brazen Hussy phase, back in my college days. The piano player is a friend that I sometimes went places with. (We tried dating once, but it was a total bust.) We decided to recreate a saloon girl-type photo at the piano in the student union building. There was a lot of hooting and cheering as we got in position. I didn’t have a saloon-girl outfit, so I dressed Western instead. The vest was one my mother made for me out of various calico fabric scraps. I don’t remember just when or where I got the leather hat, but it went with me throughout college and beyond.

My Brazen Hussy phase was the first time that hypomania hit, except for the many times that it appeared as anxiety before I went to college, and after.

As many people do the first time they experience hypomania, especially the sexual kind, I rather enjoyed it. I flirted and dated, which I never did in high school. I joined a sorority and went to frat parties. I enjoyed my first kiss and then many more. I had a mad crush on a musician and eventually got to know him too. He was exciting and passionate and awakened something in me that never even seemed to exist before. When he broke up with me, I went into a deep downward spiral. I won’t say that was why I took a year off college, but I was confused about my future, and that surely didn’t help.

Back in my hometown for the next year, I got my hypomanic mojo back. I engaged in what I knew was a risky relationship with a coworker. I kept up with him for years and told him about my former life as a Brazen Hussy and about my depression. We went out during the former and he stuck with me through the latter. But he always said he wanted Brazen Hussy Jan rather than timid, depressed Jan.

I was back in Brazen Hussy mode when I met the man who would become my husband. We were with a couple of women who already knew him and greeted him with a kiss. “Don’t I get one too?” I asked boldly and got one. He kissed me again around the campfire and followed me around all weekend. I basked in the attention. It was exactly what I needed at the time.

Shortly thereafter, I moved back to my hometown. But we conducted a long-distance relationship until finally he moved out to be with me and, eventually, we married.

I won’t say I never went back into Brazen Hussy mode again. Hypomania still affected me. I still got mad crushes and flirted outrageously. Finally, however, I was diagnosed with bipolar and properly medicated. I won’t say the Brazen Hussy mode went away entirely, but episodes were fewer and further between and easier to understand.

I didn’t originally mean this post to be so confessional, but hypomania and hypersexuality are a very real part of bipolar disorder that I didn’t miss out on in my younger years. And that I sometimes miss in my later years. I know that not having those surges of intense feeling is better for me. Nowadays, however, when my bipolar disorder kicks up, it’s generally bipolar depression. I’m a lot more settled now and don’t have much room in life for hypomania. When I experience it now, it usually manifests as anxiety again or mild euphoria and overspending.

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my Brazen Hussy phase from time to time.

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SMI in Higher Ed

July 7, 2024

I recently discovered a book written by Katie Rose Guest Pryal called Life of the Mind Interrupted: Essays on Mental Health and Disability in Higher Education. I was a little behind on reading the book—it came out in 2017. But I can’t imagine much in academia has changed since then.

In the book, Pryal presents short, readable essays about her experiences and those of other people who experience bipolar disorder, OCD, anxiety, ADD, and schizophrenia and must navigate the systems of working in academia. Pryal herself, now a law professor specializing in disability studies, says in the introduction that “academia isn’t an easy place to be if your brain isn’t quite right.” One interviewee remarked, “They hired you for your mind…Why would you volunteer that there’s something wrong with it?” The first chapter includes essays on disclosure.

If that were all the book covered, it would still be a revelation and an important work. But The Mind Interrupted is relevant to people with SMI in other areas of life as well. Just look at these essay titles: Disclosure Blues, Breaking the Mad Genius Myth, Working When Your Brain Isn’t, Handling Personal Tragedies Around You, How to Have the Accommodations Talk, Believe Your Colleagues With Disabilities, Trigger Warnings Are a Disability Issue, and more. These are issues that everyone with SMI has to deal with, whether they work in a burger joint, a business office, or aren’t employed at all. Given her circumstances, it’s understandable that Pryal focuses on higher education, but I feel that this is a valuable book for anyone living with SMI.

I’ve written before about how we refer to mental illness, SMI, brain illness, behavioral health, etc. Pryal uses a term that hadn’t occurred to me—psychiatric disability. It brought me up short. I have bipolar disorder. Is my condition a psychiatric disability? Ignoring the fact that I didn’t get disability when I applied for it, I would have to say it is. I have limitations that interfere with my ability to make a living. I have to deal with the question of whether to disclose my mental status whenever I apply for a job. I’m lucky that I now work independently from home and can basically make my own hours, an accommodation that likely would not have been available in the publishing companies where I used to work, even if I had asked for it.

When I was in academia as a grad student and teaching assistant, I hadn’t been diagnosed with bipolar, but I certainly had it. The stress was nearly incapacitating. I remember having a meltdown in a poetry class, which was ignored by the other students and the professor, aside from a few sidelong looks. I got one bad student review—scathing, really—and couldn’t bring myself to read any student reviews for the remaining three semesters. It’s similar to an experience that Pryal recounts in Life of the Mind Interrupted.

My experiences bear out what Pryal says in her book. As she explains, “This is a book about mental illness and academia. But this is also a book about so much more than that: it’s about grief, and friendship, and collegiality, and accessibility, and tragedy. It is about trying to get by in a world that fears you, that believes you are unfit for your job, that wants to take your children away….I’d spent my years in academia in hiding.” And so did the people Pryal interviewed for her book. As they were struggling to reach the safety of tenure, disclosure was not an option. Accommodations such as altered schedules were not requested or offered, even though people with mental illness are a protected class under ADA.

There’s so much more in Life of the Mind Interrupted: intersectionality, motherhood, creativity, language, students with disabilities, stigma, teaching, allies, privacy, and other essential topics. If you skip this book because you’re not in the institutions of higher education, you’re missing something truly important.

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Support Group Spam

June 30, 2024

I belong to a number of Facebook support groups for mental illness issues such as anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder. I’m even a co-moderator for one of them, Hope for Troubled Minds.

What’s troubling my mind right now is the scammers and spammers who try to take advantage of the group members.

There are the typical posts of course about how much they admire your comments and think your profile picture is very appealing. They’ve tried to friend you, but it hasn’t worked. Then they beg for an “add.” I know that as soon as I friend them, they’ll DM me with a wonderful opportunity. I find these posts annoying, but since I simply hide and block them when they happen to me, I don’t worry too much about them.

The ones that really bother me are those that are targeted to support group members specifically. Here’s one I’ve seen in various groups:

[Product] on Instagram helped me overcome Osteoporosis, fibromyalgia, autoimmune disease, LUPUS rheumatoid arthritis, ptsd, Chronic gastritis, chronic-pain, joint pain, muscles spasms, intense sweating, Raynaud’s Syndrome, inflammation, diagnosis, Fibromyalgia, skin-itching, ADHD, arthritis, spasms, swollen, blotchy hands, shingles, numbness, Anxiety, Autism, feet nerves, and flare-up permanently after taking various meds that didn’t work, look him up.

I suppose I should find it amusing that diagnosis, feet nerves, and flare-up are among the many disorders that the product is supposed to relieve. And the idea that any one product can alleviate PTSD, anxiety, and autism along with all the other listed conditions, is ludicrous.

Another piece of spam along similar lines says:

Truly, natural remedies do work. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t have used them for thousands of years. And, pharmaceutical companies wouldn’t be studying plants, taking extracts of them, and patenting them as lupus drugs.this is not a claim or lies I was totally relieved from pains of lupus disease and CFS by [Person]. His remedy is surely the best. I suggest you try him out if you are having any health challenges and also get cured too, give him a try

This piece of spam is less hyperbolic than the previous one, but it still appeals to people seeking relief from difficult-to-treat conditions. But why post it in a support group that deals with mental illness? It doesn’t address them directly. Perhaps the poster thinks that, since SMI is not thoroughly understood, people who live with it are desperate for any treatment, however unlikely or unconventional.

It’s easier for me to understand how the next bit of spam might appeal to the distraught and lonely people who find that SMI has shattered their most significant relationships. But again, it offers false hope of a “love spell” and the opportunity to become a millionaire.

My appreciation goes to [Person] for restoring back my relationship with his powerful love spell to bring my boyfriend back and also for setting my son free from Courtcase and helping a friend whom I recommend with money spell that made her a proud millionaire are you having any issues that needs urgent attention kindly contact

Finally, we have one that might actually appeal to someone who’s been in an emotionally abusive relationship.

Living with a narcissist can be very difficult due to the gaslighting and lies. If you are interested in obtaining a basic analysis of what your partner does in secret, there is a resource called [product] can provide you with access to text messages, call logs, emails, games, and social media activity (including deleted messages) send a direct message

Never mind that it’s the gaslighter who is more likely to use apps like this to keep track of their victim and isolate them from friends and family.

When I see posts like these, I report them to the group admins. What they do about them, I don’t know. I do know that I haven’t seen people trying to post similar spam in the group that I co-moderate. Unless a person is well-known to us, they must submit a message before it’s posted. So far, no one has proposed a spam post to our group. Occasionally something a bit off-topic, but that’s about it.

I think the spammers intend to prey on people they see as weak and vulnerable. And while there are people who post about their trials and tribulations with brain illnesses, they’re far from weak and vulnerable. You have to be strong and determined to live with them.

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The King Baby and the Narcissist

June 23, 2024

Almost everyone knows a grown-up in their life who has to be right all the time, has to be catered to, and blames everyone else for failures or unpleasant events.

That person is a King Baby. (Not to be sexist. There is also a Queen Baby.) It’s someone who never grew up, at least not emotionally. King Baby expects everyone to love him, take care of him, and solve all his problems for him.

Reference.com says that a King Baby: “is typically selfish, rejects criticism, complains, is obsessed with money and belongings and doesn’t feel like rules should apply to him. In short, he is someone who refuses to mature.” Tom Cunningham wrote the book (well, the 28-page pamphlet) on King Baby Syndrome in 1986. It’s still available from Hazelden, which is good because King Babies haven’t gone away, nor are they likely to.

King Babies view the world as their plaything and other people as someone whose only function is to meet their needs. Physically they are adults, but emotionally they are still infants. Typical King Baby remarks are, “That’s not fair,” “This is what I want,” “That’s not how I do it,” “Do this for me,” and “I’m the best at everything.”

Needless to say, King Babies are very trying to be around.

I learned about King Baby syndrome from my husband. Not that he has King Baby syndrome. But he used to work as a counselor with various therapy groups. One thing he told me was that when someone was trying to pull King Baby shit, one of the others might call him on it by saying, “Wah!”

King Baby goes by other names as well. Probably best known is Peter Pan, from an 80s pop psych book, The Peter Pan Syndrome. Years before that hit the bookshelves, though, writer Aldous Huxley produced a novel called Island, which talks about “dangerous delinquents” and “power-loving troublemakers” who are “Peter Pans.” In addition, he said, they are “boys who can’t read, won’t learn, don’t get on with anyone, and finally turn to the more violent forms of delinquency.” Huxley cited Adolf Hitler as an example.

King Baby syndrome is not an actual psychological diagnosis. It is not covered in the DSM. But the DSM does include Narcissistic Personality Disorder, which sounds remarkably like a King Baby:

  • exaggeration of accomplishments
  • saying they have done things they haven’t really done
  • acting or feeling more important than others
  • believing they are special and unique
  • having a need to be admired all the time
  • expecting to be treated differently, with more status than others
  • exploiting others to get what they want or need
  • pretending concern towards others or lacking empathy
  • being jealous and competitive with others
  • thinking that others are jealous of them
  • acting arrogant and superior

Narcissistic Personality Disorder is, of course, an official diagnosis in the DSM. King Baby is only someone you perceive as narcissistic but who hasn’t gone through the process that leads to a diagnosis. I’d hesitate to call someone a narcissist who hasn’t even talked to a psychologist or psychiatrist. But I have no problem labeling someone a King Baby.

So what do you do with a King Baby? My advice is to avoid them if possible. You can, like the people in my husband’s therapy groups, call the person out for their behavior, though it’s not likely to do any good. Often it’s best just to cut the King Baby out of your life. If you do, though, expect anger, blaming, and recriminations.

If you do have to live with a King Baby, perhaps the best thing you can do is to recognize the behavior when you see it happening and not fall into the trap of trying to meet the King Baby’s every need. This won’t make any difference in the King Baby’s behavior, of course. You’ll have to deal with pouting, sulking, poor-me talk, and even retaliation.

Because just as vampires never grow older, King Babies never grow up. They can’t and they won’t.

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An Irrational Thought

June 16, 2024

I just bought a laptop because the air conditioner isn’t working. If that seems like an irrational thought I acted on, it is. It’s also a measure of my anxiety. And a consequence of my current mixed state.

Let me explain.

Our central air conditioner puts out a tiny bit of coolish air, but not enough to make the house comfortable. The weather has gotten up into the 80s, and the temp in the house is sometimes higher than that. And I know that July and August are coming, so temps over 100 degrees are likely. I’m afraid I’ll have heat stroke and die or at least have heat exhaustion and be incapacitated. I spend most of the day working at my desk, with fans on and cold beverages readily available, but still the heat gets to me. And I really need to do the work. We need the money, modest as my pay is.

So why (I hear you ask) don’t we call an AC repair service? My anxiety plus hoarding mean we don’t let people in the house. I suppose there’s a chance that they would only have to look at the outdoor unit, but I can’t count on that. There’s still a possible solution my husband can try. He’s going to get a tester and check the fuses. If that’s the problem, it’s easily fixable.

There’s the anxiety. What about the mixed state?

When I get hypomanic, one of my behaviors is online shopping. And there was just a sale at Best Buy on Apple computers that lasted three days. I ordered a laptop. I made sure it was a refurbished one to keep the price down, but I also bought the mouse, the subscription to Microsoft Office, and a carrying case. It was a tidy sum, money that we don’t have because of car repairs, but I put it on our Best Buy credit card. I also told myself that it was still cheaper than air conditioning repair. (A quick Google suggests that it’s likely a wash.)

How does this solve the air conditioning dilemma? If I have a laptop computer, I can take it to Panera, McDonald’s, or some other air-conditioned place and do my work while sipping on iced tea. (Panera has plugs and outlets conveniently located, I know.) Work accomplished. Body temperature regulated. Achievement unlocked.

Of course, I realize this is a slightly ridiculous plan. I know that my anxiety and hypomania are largely responsible. Ultimately, though, I’m responsible.

There’s still the chance that Dan can get the AC working again, if the fuses are the problem. If that happens, I can return the laptop (within 15 days after I receive it). So I have options, which I love.

I’m still left with confusing feelings. Maybe I’m too fearful of the heat or too dubious about being able to do my work in an overheated room. (I don’t think so, because I’m older and have had bad reactions to heat before. Computers also have bad reactions to heat.) Maybe I was too impulsive when I ordered a new laptop and all the fixings. Maybe even with the money I earn, the credit card expense will strain our finances further. I fortuitously just received a raise at work, so maybe that will help make up the difference.

I’m not asking for advice. I’ll work this out on my own somehow or at least with the help of my husband. He knows I’m in a mixed state, but the family finances are my responsibility and he usually goes with what I think we should do.

Things should be clearer by the time I post this.

Category:

Mental Health

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