Posted by: cck | May 24, 2011

admit it

It’s hard for me to admit when I’m not doing well.  For the last eight years, the closest I’ve had to feeling a symptom of manic depression is…  I can’t think of it.  I can literally not think of a symptom.  I’m not bragging.  I’ve been lucky.  Amazingly, crazy fucking lucky.

I am on half of my lithium dosage.  After four days of half of my lithium dosage – a small 450 mg – I can feel it.  I can feel the tickle at my brain, a whisper in my thoughts.  It’s crafty, that tickle.  It’s so slight, strangely enticing and incredibly unnerving.  I know that my new drug – the preferred drug of bipolar, soon-to-be-pregnant women everywhere –  is sitting at a very small dosage.  I knew that I would have to increase the dosage at some point.  I know it.

It was silly, thinking that I wouldn’t feel a slight tear in the fabric I’ve been diligently weaving for almost a decade.  I have manic depression, even though I’ve forgotten what the symptoms feel like.  So, I’m admitting it.  I called – well, truth be told – I emailed my doctor.  I’m increasing my dosage of the new drug.  This isn’t failure; I haven’t done anything wrong.

In fact, instead of feeling like I took a wrong step, I’m going to revel in the knowledge that I am well enough to catch a tickle.  I noticed a whisper.  I’m going to continue being fine.  Lithium (wannabe) pregnancy: I can do this.


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