Bipolar Disorder-Dealing With My Psychiatrist

Proper Bipolar Medications
Proper Bipolar Medications

Where Do I Begin?

I started a blog once, but deleted it. I wanted to devote what attention I had to writing. I started this sometime on a Friday, months ago. So...Where do I begin? I am one of those people who never knows what day it is. If it feels like a Wednesday it probably is a Saturday. I tend to miss a lot of appointments this way.

Bipolar medications have done a wonderful hack job on the inside of my brain. Anyway. I got up at 5:30 am on this particular Friday morning. I felt very weird. Very disoriented and confused. I soon realize I had got up in the middle of night and took my bipolar medications. Morning and bedtime doses both, I know this because Friday's tray was empty.


I remember getting up sometime in the middle of night feeding the cats their wet food. Ethel walks around the bed, knocks everything off the night table, alarm clock, cell phone, and remote control to the TV. She then stands in front of my face and gently slaps her paw to my cheek until I get up and feed her and my other cat CIA. I have no idea what time I did this. Must of been a nice treat for the cats though. Because I think I fed them twice.

My 1:00 p.m. appointment with my Psychiatrist might explain some of my odd behavior. I have been having a terrible time with my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I'm going through some med changes as well and therapy is driving me batty.

Therapist's are sometimes weird to me. I don't get them. I mean they get paid to wander around in people's head. How weird is that? A degree makes them know how to fix people? But then again what do I know I use to fly kites for a living.

Doctor I think I am feeling better now.
Doctor I think I am feeling better now.

Why Do They Call Them Shrinks?

Well after I see my Psychiatrist, why we call them shrinks is another bell ringing question I don't get. We decide to drop another medication. Wellbutrin. Because the manic/mixed episodes are coming within even intervals. I love Wellbutrin, it makes me feel soooo good. Dr. Get Wellington asked me how manic I felt? Well I haven't bought a plane ticket to Greece yet I told her. Ha Ha she laughed. That sounds nice, she said. I squinted at her. Not sure what she meant about nice. She just kept smiling. I just stared mouth agape.

I paced around the office. She had a student whateveryouwannacallher in there taking notes. The student said she was uncomfortable with me standing over her shoulder, and walking around so much. Excuse me if I wanted to know what she was writing, and I always walk around. I was coming around a lot longer than she was anyway. I was nervous. "So take that, misscindysomething or other I can't ever remember names easy thank you very much".


I told her my sleep walking is starting up again. So her solution was to increase my Seroquel. My beautiful wonder drug. I was getting so angry at everything. The smiling doctor, the snotty student, my dad who drove me to the doctor insisting I need to be more social. HA! That's another hub. The pharmacist who looks at me like oh another med? All the people who think they are normal and so the list goes on. Why didn't I just cancel my appointment and pretend it was Wednesday?


I was having a manic/mixed OCD episode right there in Dr. Get Wellington's office and was dreading FEMA coming to clean up the aftermath. Dr. Get Wellington sat there kind of half smiling, " You poor kid, we will get it fixed" she said. I am not sure if that was empathy or patronizing. Either way who cares. Someone who actually cares about me, yeah that's you Dr. Get Wellington. I am Happy.

Happy is as Sad was.
Happy is as Sad was.

Moods moving to fast

See how fast that changes. BAM! Just like that. I went home physically exhausted with 2 days worth of meds in my system and a happy hat on. I went to bed and slept into the night. Got up. Watched some super boring television, got up and went for a relaxing walk. Did some writing, checked on my computer friends and went back to bed because I felt like a rotten piece of beef jerky.


Got up Saturday morning. Felt super zippy so I went shopping, then to the beach. Got sick again. I swear I went from one extreme to the next all within a few hours. I fell asleep sitting on the couch, when I woke up I felt like went through a cheese grater. I am not even sure what day it is. Oh it's Sunday. Feels like a Monday. See I don't ever know what day it is, so I am pretending it is Wednesday. It works out well that way.

What is weird, is this happens alot with my psychiatrist appointments. Why can't she just make a house call for cripes sake. And besides seeing her explained very little this time, except tomorrow is Monday. Now you want to know what going through a cheese grater looks like? Yeah! Maybe some other time.

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Comments 2 comments

crazybeanrider profile image

crazybeanrider 6 years ago from Washington MI Author

Why thank you so much Joy, you are a delight. It is so endearing to hear people like you, who understand what I am writing. I write so people will understand , that it is a condition that doesn't have to be a life sentence, we can live a fairly good life, but it is a long hard road sometimes. I just appreciate you so much seeing beyond the writing and understanding, thank you so much.


Joy56 profile image

Joy56 6 years ago

Your writing is absolutely wonderful. It is amazing that you are able to write like this, so full of medication. What comes through to me, is that you understand the condition better than the doctors, you should be writing for other sufferers, and earning big money at it. I absolutely love your work, keep on writing whatever you do. Hope today is a good day.

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