New Year’s. A friend asked all of us what we hoped for in the year to come.

“I want to not fuck up,” I said. Felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, realized these people had never seen me cry, which feels so weird, because I have always been used to absolutely everyone who comes into contact with me at all seeing me cry at one point or another. But although the people present were close friends of mine, they have only been so for less than a year and a half. During most of that time, I have been the New, Improved Polly on medication that actually works for me.

Did not want them to see me cry now. Had to explain that I wasn’t really being upset and maudlin, that I was actually trying to be positive.

“It’s just that I went all through 2007 without fucking up,” I said. “I was sick for so long, and the past year was the first year that I’ve been well. I just want things to stay that way.”

I then almost immediately proceeded to come dangerously close to fucking up.

I spent the next few weeks hypomanic in a bad way. Yelled at people for no reason. Obsessed endlessly about certain things. You don’t even want to hear about my sex drive during those weeks (hint: really, really high). Drank way too much, alone. Spent too much money.

With little warning and absolutely no fanfare, I slipped into a mild depression and stayed there for a few more weeks. Believed I would never be happy again. Wondered what was the point of anything. Continued to occasionally drink too much, alone. Had to try very hard to keep from cutting myself. Sent disturbing emails to friends about wanting to cut myself. Only managed not to cut myself because I knew my two-year anniversary of not cutting would be coming up soon, and I really wanted to make it to two years without screwing up.

Then woke up one morning and felt better, just like that. Not caused by anything. Nothing had changed except for my mood. The weather was still utter wintery crap, but it suddenly wasn’t bringing me down anymore. (Seriously, if you are not in Canada right now, stay away from this country until at least May. I am not joking.) I still had the same slight personal problems I’d had for a while, but I was suddenly able to look at them rationally and not blow things out of proportion. It’s so weird when you wake up and all of a sudden you are well. It’s also weird when you wake up and all of a sudden you are unwell, but I don’t like that one quite as much. I can’t help but think of it as some cosmic dude or dudette mucking about with a remote that controls my emotions.

I had been seriously considering asking my doctor about increasing my medication when I saw her, but ultimately I didn’t, since I wasn’t having problems functioning and my mood swings were quite tame compared to the way they used to be a year and a half ago. I figured I could deal with it without more drugs, but afterward I worried that maybe it was stupid and pigheaded of me.

Now that I feel better, though, I’m pleased to see that this was indeed the best decision for me at this time. I’m glad I got through that rough patch while remaining on only a minimal amount of medication.

The drugs are still working. It’s been over ten months, and I am still largely asymptomatic. This is not the day to pontificate about that, though.

I had a cold for about two months, or possibly several colds in rapid succession. Then it (they?) went away for a few weeks, but now I have a cold again. I’ve been tired lately, too. It’s easy for me to work insane hours in the spring and the summer. Not so much in the fall and the winter. Cyclical seasonal patterns and all that. I’m still going to be busy in the near future, but I shouldn’t be as busy. I’m about to make some changes in my life. They’ll be good changes, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be easy ones. Oh, and my relationship with my boyfriend is still great, just in case all my vagueness sounds like an illusion to “trouble in paradise.” It’s other circumstances that are going to change, one of them being that the working fifty-some hours a week thing is coming to an end. That change is necessary if I want to stay healthy. Yeah, I was totally wrong back in August when I said that I’d only be working extra hours for a few more weeks.

I’m working a lot of twelve-hour days lately. It’ll only be like this for another few weeks, and then things will get back to normal. This morning I woke up from a dream in which I was attending a day hospital programme again, and the programme coordinator was telling me that she could get me a part time job setting tables or something like that. I was about to start crying and saying, “I want to have time for a real job!” when I woke up. This is like the opposite of my actual life at the moment, where I currently have time for work, but nothing else.

I don’t think I’d be able to work this many hours in the winter. It’s only during the summer that I have a history of crazed workaholism, whether for actual employment or at school. Ah, bipolar disorder with a seasonal pattern. The university calendar year is designed so that the regular terms when people can be enrolled full time completely avoid the months when I do my best work. I did take a lot of summer classes throughout my university years, though — you wind up short credits because you can’t get out of bed for much of the winter, you’ve got to make ‘em up somehow.

My brother is pretty much the same as the last time I posted. Not motivated to do anything, but I don’t think he’s been smashing things or taking off lately. He seems to be still together with his girlfriend… and convinced that in the fall, he’ll be able to move back in with her and continue to not have a job and not go to school, with her supporting him instead of my parents. I really don’t understand the way his mind works.

Welcome to Rapid Cycling. Population: me.

(The image above is a magnet I have on my refrigerator.)

Lately I have been up-down-up-down-up-down. Usually rapid cycling is a February-March-April thing for me, and I start easing out of it around this time of year. Susan at Bipolar Wellness Writer recently wrote two good posts about seasonal aspects of depression and manic depression, Ebbs and Flows and Seasonal Affective Disorder. I can relate, as there is definitely a seasonal component to my illness.

I tend to have an overarching mood pattern of being very depressed from late September to early February, then hypomanic/manic until mid-May, then relatively normal or mildly hypomanic until late September. But I also tend to have cycles within cycles, especially in the February-to-May cycle. Then I often bounce from euphoric to dysphoric hypomania (and occasionally mania) to depression and back again, in random order, for random periods of time. The spring is my prime rapid cycling time, but that doesn’t mean it never happens at other times of year. I usually feel good during the summer, but sometimes I have episodes of depression then. I’m usually depressed during the fall and early winter, but sometimes I’ll be Doing Just Fine or I’ll have brief periods of hypomania.

For nearly five months, I have been Doing Just Fine with some ventures into mild hypomania now and then. For the past few days, though, I have been up and down frequently. I know some reasons why, of course. My current jobs have very variable hours and I don’t do so well when I’m not following a stricter schedule of sleeping and eating and working and leisure time. My problems with finding adequate treatment have also been frustrating me lately. (Experimental Chimp does a good job of blogging about his struggle to find adequate treatment, by the way.)

You ever notice that if someone already has you tagged with borderline personality disorder, then any time you admit that an actual life stressor is affecting your mood somehow, it’s seen as further confirmation that you have BPD? I know there’s supposed to be a “marked reactivity of mood,” but aren’t manic-depressives, or, God forbid, even people without any psychiatric diagnosis, permitted to have some reaction to things that have actually happened to them? And when some of those things are clearly physical reactions rather than psychological ones, too? It’s not rocket science that I’m going to be more unstable when my eating and sleeping and general living patterns are irregular.

Just an observation. I mean, I know that I currently don’t make a strong case for my own point at all, as my extreme rapid cycling as of late is actually typical of someone with BPD. I mean “extreme” in the sense of frequency/length of episodes and not at all in the sense of the behaviour that I am exhibiting. The most “extreme” I’ve been behaviour-wise lately was that Tuesday I cried a bit, and only the mental health nurse saw it the first time and nobody saw the second time.

At this very moment, I feel great, just so you know. At this very moment, I can’t imagine being depressed about anything. Don’t you love how even in the middle of rapid cycling, somehow I manage to firmly believe that whatever mood state I’m in is permanent?

I love Stephany’s post Who is a mental health advocate? Read it.

If you know where the title of my post came from without having to Google it, then I love you.