I freaked my therapist out this week. I went in on Wednesday as I always do and she immediately asked me what the hell was going on. I haven't been feeling depressed at all lately. In fact, I was completely out of my mind. She told me my eyes looked funny. That I seemed agitated. That it seemed like I couldn't help but interrupt her.
She made me an appointment to see the doctor for an evaluation.
I didn't FEEL like there was anything wrong. In fact, I felt like I was fully recovered. Like the depression had been defeated.
But I KNEW this wasn't right. At first, I was happy to see the old, crazy me re-appearing after all these years. The girl who flirted and said inappropriate things and made guys think they had a chance was back. She was frantically wanting to go out and do something - ANYTHING because she couldn't sit home. But in the few days before seeing my therapist, I had become almost crazed. I have been obsessing and rambling and not able to stop my mind or my mouth. I have been forgetting to eat and not wanting to sleep. I have been impulsive and reckless. I have been unable to get anything done at work because I couldn't stop and concentrate on any one thing for more than a few minutes.
The doctor asked me a lot of questions. My answers (at least to me) seemed to indicate that this was just a weird little bump for me. That perhaps I was just overly stressed or "acting out" because B and I have been having issues.
But as he questioned me, he also asked me about the time in my 20s that I refer to as "back when I was a crazy bitch". Something started to seem obvious. Although this was not "mania" in it's classic form, there were certainly characteristics of mania, and a pattern of these "periods" followed by severe anxiety and then a crash into the depths.
He threw out the words "hypomania" and "bipolar II". He said he didn't want to officially change my diagnosis yet, as it wasn't sufficient to cause impairment to my life...not yet, anyway.
Although the option was given to me to start on a mood stabilizer to mitigate any future episodes, I declined. My feeling was that I would wait and see if this is actually a recurrent thing or if I really am just acting crazy because of other factors in my life.
Two days later, I sit here on the verge of tears, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and hide.
Fuck.
