A Day At The Beach When My Bipolar Mood Swing Was Not Being Nice
A day at the beach not to long ago...
I genuinely hate going off bipolar medications. It is the one time I get physically ill. I truly liked taking Wellbutrin prescribed for depression. However, it was causing some exceptionally unpleasant mixed bipolar episodes. Besides, antidepressants have never been all that agreeable for me anyway. I am bit fed up with the mood swings. I want to give them to someone who thinks bipolar is romantic and poetic. Someone who thinks it gives them a exhilarating personality. They can have mine, because I don't want to be the one hanging out on the clothes line all the time waiting to dry and never quite making it.
I don't have my little manic/mixed state going on, I have something far more sinister and omnious swirling around like a funnel cloud. I will wait fretfully for the meds to kick in, in the mean time I feel like deleting all my internet stuff, disappearing into cyberspace, stop pretending I am just a chip on the motherboard of life.
A beach outing this week with my family was NOT exactly the Disney channel. The beach is about families, coolers, sunburns, friends, food, surf, hot sun, and humidity even more smothering than hot sand. The lake is calm, cool, not to cold. The smell of cold beer and hot dogs, suntan lotion dripping, wafting through my nostrils. How many more times is that screeching mother of 15 going to tell her kids to stop throwing sand? Do you think If I threw sand back, I would have a fight on my hands? I am up for it. So what if she is my sister.
Go Swimming You Punks
The beach is NEVER relaxing unless you go alone. Kids to watch. People yakking while you are obviously NOT in the mood to answer back. Because your eyes are closed and your head is turned the OTHER way. And you have said uh-uh about 327 times already. Somebody is not getting the hint. Chattering is not relaxing. It just isn't. If you have to force yourself to listen to somebody talk, you then have already lost the relaxation part.
Some young kids that I do not know, came up to me, and asked me if I knew my niece was swearing? I pretended I could not hear them. Shoo. I am relaxing. Or pretending to. There were seven of them, at least. They were wearing me down. Who cares if she is swearing. Go swimming you punks. My sister, next to me was rejoicing in this. " I am just her Aunt, she is the mother, leave me the hell alone". Stares, mouths agape.
I was getting ready to say something creative, or have some fancy confrontation with the mothers of those chatty little children. I just want to relax, tell your little children to go play, or bury each other in the sand or whatever. But no, I just laid there pretending I was on a beach somewhere in the south of France with naked people running around eating hotdogs and drinking beer. Oh wait that's the wrong beach.
The children continued to chatter, the mother's continued to yell at their kids for swimming out to far. I continued to pretend I was enjoying my relaxing day at the beach. Living life to the fullest is obviously not easy.
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