Off The High

I have been hyped up this month. I began to notice it when I was rebelling against my sleep schedule. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to dance all night, or just do something beside making me stay on schedule. I felt very unsatisfied with life. That feeling is still lingering even after I have come back to mid-line. I was restless. I felt like I needed something more, more to life. A large studio, painting non-stop, visiting galleries, traveling to Santa Fe, creating huge sculptures - I needed something else that wasn't daily grind of laundry, cooking, washing, driving kids, and so on. I'm bored. I have all this energy and no outlet. The Zyprexa worked in putting me to sleep at night and kept me fairly mid-line throughout the morning until mid-afternoon when I felt the "jumpiness". I was a good girl and informed Steve and Jared about the "anticipation" feeling. Steve raised the dosage which I was a bit resistant to do because the mania felt very mild. But he was concern that it would keep rising. Well, he got his way. I was knocked off my high horse and after a week, I could reduce back to mid-line dose.

By the way, the "anticipation" feeling is the feeling you have when you are waiting for a rock concert to begin. It's the happy feeling when you are entering the stage area. It's the happy feeling finding a great spot in the front. It's the joyous feeling when the lights go out, and the rise of excitement seeing your favorite musicians appear on stage. It's the excitement when they come close to your side of the stage. It's the thrill seeing them up close and you can count the buttons on their shirt. That's the feeling I feel when the high is happening. And when the "anticipation" has no results, the frustration monster appears because nothing is satisfying this strong urge. The urge for active stimulation - loudness, speed, physical release, something. So many times I have just wanted to get into the van and speed down the highway to a larger town or city. The speed would match my racing mind and the visual stimulation of urban social activity would feel satisfying - for a little while. For someone who prefers to be alone, I don't get why I seek out social settings to feed my high.

For right now, I'm steady although my "anticipation" feeling has been replaced by the "panic" feeling. That is how I can tell which side of the mood line I am on. Anticipation is the highs and panics are the lows. It has only taken me decades to figure that out. My medicine is kicking in now. Time for sleep.

Quiet house, loud concert in my head

I need loud, I need movement, I need music, I need Linkin Park, I need to be turned on, I need speed, I need something to release this energy. I have been pretty boring for a month. That's why June only has a couple of entries. Although I did feel as though my mania has been peeking out lately. I've been good with my meds, trying to remember to take them earlier than 10pm. But I have begun to notice that by night time my energy spikes, probably from my meds leaving my system by that time. Zyprexa is temporary, it doesn't linger in the system like lithium or Lamictal. I so love Linkin Park. They just came out with their new album titled "Living Things". I'm listening to it right now. Much more synthesized sounds. I just ordered the fifth book of The Mortal Instruments, :The City of Lost Souls". Something to look forward to. I like getting presents in the mail. I also bought the two prequels to the series. Amylia, my sister, says they are good. Why not buy them. Hopefully I will get sucked in. I really want to let loose but the rational side of me is trying to reason with me. Maybe I should take an Ambien tonight. I become high and I feel so creative, although I do have a hard time directing my creativity. I know once I start painting or sculpting, I don't want to be interrupted and with three kids, I get interrupted frequently and I end up yelling at them. So to prevent yelling at them, I don't start painting, then I'm left with this creative energy frustrated because it can't be released. I wait til night time but by the time the kids are finally settled down, it's time to do my bedtime routine. That advice to go to bed the same time every night. Screw that. I like my night time loneliness when I know I can be left alone to be myself, the artistic self. I don't ever want that taken from me. And yet I sit here in bed waiting for my meds to kick in and put me to sleep. Then I'll be sedated for another 24 hours, running on caffeine, counting my calories, and keep myself moving around to stay awake. The cycle continues. There is always a cycle.

I want to throw something

The realm of agitation seemed to have crept in. More likely slammed in. I'm irritated with everything right now. I'm finally by myself and I'm still irritable. And it's not even PMS. I've been reading about triggers lately and I wonder getting frustrated with my kids triggered the agitation. It's not situational agitation, it's lasting, here-to-stay agitation. I hate it. I had to stop painting because I was starting to muddy-up the top half. I'm trying to express mania using color and lines and so far nothing seems to be meshing with the depression half of the painting. In light of this new direction in my abstract paintings, I decided to develop a painting based on the mood level chart Steve always shows me each time I come for a visit. I have the severe, moderate, and mild depression settled but the upper end is not working well together. I think I need more white, then scratch out the red lines. I'll try that tomorrow if I can be left alone. I do notice I become quickly agitated when I feel the creativity pumping and then I'm frequently interrupted by whines, fussing, demanding, and anything else annoying. I'm so tired of the mess around here. I'm tired of having to constantly entertain my kids. They need to use their imagination and un-bore themselves. They need to find something that does not involve pestering each other. I need to just go sit and watch Grimm on TV.

So early

I haven't been awake before 8 am for awhile now. I took less than half a Zyprexa last night so I would be easier to wake up and be somewhat coherent. Sierra came in about 6:30 to sneak into bed with me. That woke me up even more because she tosses a lot before settling down for 5 minutes. With Jared working nights, her bouncing stresses me because I want Jared to sleep. So the one choice I have besides laying in bed until 7 is the get up at 6:42 and shoo Sierra out of the room. Celeste was already doing her morning routine and waking up Savannah because they have Track Camp this morning. Why does it have to be at 8:00? 9 would have been better. Although it would not have mattered with this crowd because they always get up with the sun. They could stay up to 3 in the morning and still wake up before 7 am. And it's summer vacation, they should be sleeping in some. But not these kids. Although they have been good about letting me sleep, some days I stay in bed to 9.

It's almost 8, got to go.

Been awhile....

My laptop has gone kerplunk and I'm overly cautious about using my husband's laptop because it's the newest thing in our house. Plus he's overly protective with it. But I'm using it anyways. He can learn to trust me. After blogging then I'm going to play on YouTube. Linkin Park has their new song out called "Burn It Down". Love the song! It has more of the tremble synthesized sound rather than the deep bass and guitar. It's interesting listening to how their music has evolved over the years. Their earlier songs expressed darkness, frustration, and emotional angst with relationships, particularly parental ones. Now their more recent work seems to have a type of political feeling - maybe not political but more social commentary type. Whatever it may be, they leave the lyrics vague enough to allow your own personal interpretation and relation.

My own artwork has been changing as well. I just painted two abstracts inspired by Mark Rothko, an Abstract Expressionist from the 1950s. He would paint these large areas of a single color and place large colored rectangles creating like a window or a doorway into another realm that only your mind could take you. Reminding myself of what my instructors always told me - simplify your compositions - I painted a large area of one color but with many value variations and a second smaller area with one color. I think of landscapes, barren landscapes. I apply an accent color like a red line in between the two colors for some variation in interest. My focus is on texture and color. I should have done that for my Final Thesis - the exploration of imagery through texture and color. They're simple to paint so I'm suspicious if they are good or not. I need for them to been seen so I can receive some kind of input. I'm going to start looking more into the gallery scene in Salt Lake because my art ain't doing any good sitting in the coat closet. I'm still working on my prescription paintings. They're encaustic paintings expressing how each drug made me feel and the side effects I tolerated or not tolerated.

I'm getting sleepy now. The Zyprexa is kicking in finally. I hate the sedated feeling in the morning but if that is the only side effect, I'll take it. It's better than the others.

Need to go camping...maybe

Today has been an active day. I really wanted to lay back down on the couch while Sierra ate her breakfast watching Curious George, but I didn't. I was determined to remain awake even with the sluggish feeling. Yesterday morning, I curled up on the futon and remain there until noon. I completely missed breakfast, left the milk out from the girls' breakfast, and Sierra was cluttering the living room with her toys. I hate it when I do that because I need to be attentive, especially with a 4 year old in the house. Jared is gone again for canyoneering classes so I didn't have him for back up. He's gone all this weekend at a canyoneering rendezvous. Camping actually sounds fun right now. I like the serenity of laying in a sleeping bag listening to the breeze and the chirping of insects. There is a certain zen about it. Now not getting much sleep because you're concern about three girls tossing about in their sleeping bags, that is not zen. It was so nice when my husband and I went camping alone. It was peaceful seeing the stars clearly, listening to the loons calling out across the lake, the water rippling onto the shore, the soft glow of the firelight, and the gentle breeze massaging my face. That was so nice. Even with the wind storm in the middle of the night that about blew over our tent, it was so very, very nice. We're definitely going to do that again if I can convince my mom to have the girls sleepover again. I can only ask once a year so I have to make it count. Mom becomes worn out fairly easily with those three. I think it is more that she stresses herself that wears herself out. My girls are active and their personalities will clash, some days more than others. I think mom just has a hard time with fighting. She's the grandma, there's not suppose to be any fighting around grandma.

Tomorrow, Grammy actually has a project planned with the girls. I don't know what but it involves paint brushes. She even told me to take a break and go do whatever I want to do. That rarely happens. I need to go shopping for one more birthday present for Savannah and a Mother's Day present for myself and mom. Then I can go plant veggies in the garden after I till up more weeds. Now that school is done and I have submitted the final grades, I can focus on the garden. I do have sprouts already of spinach, beans, carrots, and peas. Yea!

Ghost Rider

I just finished watching "Ghost Rider" with Nicholas Cage. It is about a guy who sold his soul to the Devil to save his Dad from cancer. However, the Devil causes his Dad to die in a motorcycle wreck. When the time came, the guy changed to a fiery skeleton whose job was to seek out the Devil's son who was causing havoc against his father. But the guy has a good heart and turns this curse into a hero. I like the movie. It is one of those movies I could watch repeatedly for some reason. There are some of those movies that have a certain entertaining quality that I can't get bored regardless. "Ghost Rider" is one of those. There is nothing complex, nothing complicated, nothing psychological. The story is about falling into darkness and then rising for good. A good heart prevails over darkness. Something like that. The movie also has a sexy motorcycle, flames and all.

I have calmed down the past couple of days. I saw Steve on Thursday, admitted I stopped taking my Zyprexa, got the lecture about running into a hypomania and then crashing hard, and decided to give the med another try but at half the dose. I'm feeling a little of the grogginess but not like before. I can actually function. Although if I sit down, especially in the mornings, I will close my eyes and lay there for awhile. The motivation level is still blah but slowly improving. At least I'm not agitated anymore. 

I need a Japanese Temple

A quiet room. An empty room. A gentle breeze. The soft rustling of leaves. Sunshine dappling across my face. A quiet place. I need a quiet place. I need a Japanese Temple.

My agitation level has red lined since yesterday afternoon and it has not dropped. Everything irritates me. Writing this blog is irritating me. I can't be irritable for no reason. I can't be irritable, I have kids to take care of. They don't need to be snapped at for no reason. Anxiety is creeping in as well. The sudden, breath-sucking, feeling of dread. I want to take a Xanax but I can't fall asleep with kids running around getting territorial with each other. I find myself pacing, looking for anything to keep me busy. I find myself staring out a window, sitting still so not to agitate anything on my body. My skin crawls sometimes. Sounds are too loud. Movement becomes too much. I need to call my therapist Steve. Maybe if I talk this out I might feel a bit in control or at least feel a little better. Writing this out helps. I'm going to go hide in my bed with my soft pillow and gentle blow of the fan.

Grandma

I have to say that I am not pregnant.Whew. PMDS is evil.

I've been very productive today cleaning Sierra's disastrous room. For a little girl, she sure can clutter a room. I have boxed toys after toys, and still with what she has, she can cover a whole floor, an obstacle course waiting in chaos. I fear she's going to be a hoarder when she is older. Runs in the family. My Grandma Ross could hoard clothes to the point you couldn't even fit a hand in between her clothes hanging in her closet. In fact she wouldn't wear those clothes but the ones in the other bedroom. She had five rooms filled with clothes come to think of it. And cats, she hoarded cats, poor things. She never believed in having her cats fixed so they kept multiplying to the point she would have 30 to 40 cats running around. Needless to say the smell was unbelievable. Grandma start living with my Aunt Jeanne, not only to take care of her, but to distant herself from the house.I heard Aunt Jeanne's was not much better except the smell was cigarette smoke.

I love my Grandma. Sadly she died in a car accident this past March. It still feels as though she is still in Alabama trying on some new jewelry she doesn't need and Jeanne having her drive her to another doctor's appointment so Jeanne could dope up on prescription meds.I just wish Grandma could have meet my girls. She would have loved them.I'm sad that she is gone but even more so that she never took the opportunity to meet her three great granddaughters.Now they'll never get to know the character Grandma was.

Really need to be in bed

My Ambien is going to knock me out any minute now. I've had a productive day. Although getting to writing out the Final Exam for my class could have been done earlier than squeezing it in two days before it was scheduled, nonetheless, the exam is ready for a group of panicky students, some really will be panicky. I have never understood the concept of signing up for a class that requires mounds of visual information and not participate hardly a bit, hardly in class. I don't get it, no comprehension. I guess I feel if you are paying for your education, you would want the best for the buck, earn that top grade for the buck because you will be paid bucks for earning top notch. I'm starting to ramble about this, next topic.

I accomplished writing a 76 question/answer final exam ready to be taken on Monday, all done on the school's Canvas website which will make grading so much easier for me. Now if only I can get the assignment papers graded quickly I could wrap up this semester with a pretty bow and turn my work in.I have a week.

Speaking of a week, my biological system is running late. It has been 29 days. For someone who has been disgusted by the constant 25 day inconvenience, I'm feeling a tad concern over the interruption. On the usual biological schedule, I should be finishing up not still waiting for it to make up its mind. All the symptoms are there, just give me a sign so I can stop this nagging thought of "what if I am pregnant?"

I can't get pregnant, my husband had that fixed and there has been no scares for four years. I don't need to be pregnant, I'm in no emotional health to take care of another little one. I just can't be pregnant.

I'm going to bed before I place myself in a frenzy of worry.

Late at night

I sometimes like to walk around my house in the quiet dark. There is a sense of security seeing all my girls soundly asleep, the kitty curled up in Celeste's bed, the dogs snoring on their pillows, and my husband stretch out in bed breathing deeply, the sign that he is finally sleeping. I can hear a neighborhood dog casually barking at the night. The soft tick of the clock near the door. My mind is actually in a zen moment, feeling quiet for once. I have been grueling over the final exam questions all day, trying to get it done before the weekend is done. I delivered my last lecture yesterday evening and for the first time I moved through art history from Stonehenge to the Abstract Expressionist. All that is left is finishing up the exam questions before publishing on Canvas website.

Thoughts of work can be saved for tomorrow. And extra work it will be with three kids home all day. Maybe I'll go to my Mom's and let them fly free around her safe yard while I sit at her kitchen table struggling to get these questions and answers just right. I believe that will be the plan.

My Ambien is going to black me out any moment now. Last night I found myself hugging this laptop after I blacked out in mid sentence. Strong stuff, keeps the disturbing dreams low level. Prozac has the tendency to really enhance dream imagery. Makes for a rough night of sleep waking up to violent scenarios. And once I wake out of an Ambien sleep, I hardly ever get back to sleep.So Ambien take me away.

I'm starting to feel the slowness in my writing, probably time to go and find some rest.However, one more round around the house will feel tranquil, almost meditative. Go to sleep.......

Recuperating

It has been 24 hours since my mild breakdown, my drop into the low levels of reality. I woke up still with the bad attitude, I was cross with the girls. I am trying hard not to take out my gloom on these little girls. My walls were up and I felt expressionless. The girls were fairly cooperative getting ready for school. However my small one likes to compete for the attention, creating aggravating situations that could be avoided if she would just sit down and finish eating her breakfast. The competition is unreal sometimes.

I got the two oldest to school, laid down on the couch and be useless. What point was there to get up and do anything. Sierra snuggled behind my back as I faced the couch. It was cute until she started climbing on me and especially sitting on my head - she has a thing about that. Needless to say, I got up and found some kitchen cleaning to do. Of course, why not? Next was the laundry. The clean ones needed sorting. And I would really love to slice up my hands with a blade to make this pain of feeling insignificance to go away.   But what do I do instead? I picked out another horse photo to start another painting. What an idiot. I guess I'm going to torture myself by making more useless work. Another way to stab me with insignificance.

Although, not expecting to happen, I begin to feel the creative drive, a purpose. My husband, the sweet thing that he is, took me and Sierra out to lunch to cheer me up. He knew I would be upset by the rejection so he was prepared to handle me. He has been going through his frustration as well. We have had sole ownership of the canyoneering business here in Blanding but now we have a competitor. This person apparently has money coming out of the wazoo and, in a short time, has set up shop with gear and guided tours. That is our specialty and Jared feels everything is going to be taken away from him. I hate competition.

However, Jared has decided not to worry about what the other guy is doing and focus on what he has accomplished. He suggested I do the same. So now I have a canvas sketched out ready for paint. I'm still feeling useless but I guess the Prozac is actually working.I stopped taking the Zyprexa so now I can start feeling productive again, even if it is useless.             

Useless

Well I got my answer if I'm exhibiting or not - not. Why do I bother with these things? Probably because I want to feel successful in art. I want to be successful. Maybe this is a strong hint that after 40 years of doing art, I suck at it. I can't make a living working in a studio. I can't pay my student loans because I am going no where. All that positive feedback from school - lies. I don't have it and I don't know why I continue to bother with it. The expenses, the time, the frustration. I have lost touch. I probably suck as a teacher. The students are doing surveys now. Why not add another blow?

I want to tear up my art magazine because I'm a joke and all those pages of artwork are mocking me. I tore up a pastel drawing I finished today. It turned into a dud. I was already feeling like I didn't know what I was doing. That was proof. I don't work enough to be any kind of good anymore. Screw all my projects. They're expensive and waste of time. The only thing I'm okay at is cleaning dishes and sometimes laundry.

I'm packing up everything. My art is worth nothing which makes me not worth anything. I have depended on art all my life so that I don't know what I am anymore since my art is useless. I'm not even enjoying creating art. What do I have to show my girls? Nothing. I have nothing to show them, for them to be proud of. I'm quitting, I have nothing.

Impatience

It has been a week since the acceptance/rejection letters should have been mailed out from the Springville Museum of Art. I spent too much money to try to get into the Spring Salon. I bought two encaustic boards to look professional instead of my homemade variety. I spent a full tank of gas to drive the four hours to physically place my work into their hands. That's an eight hour round trip not including the hour and half at Walmart trying to find a nice Sunday dress for my oldest daughter. Apparently fashion trends forgot the tall 11 year old size. So here I am pacing trying to think of how I will respond to the notice. If it's a rejection, then I foresee myself wanting to throw my art material all over the room and giving up on art. I'm not making a living or even influencing anything with my work. Makes you feel worthless after awhile. Then I imagine if my work was actually accepted. I see myself jumping and squealing, waving the letter around. When I have this thought, I quickly jerk myself back to the rejection scenario because I don't want to set myself up for disappointment. If only the notice will come so I can move on with my excitement or disappointment. I'm bored waiting.

Bored

Yikes..Goggle changed their blog appearance since this morning. I hate it when servers change things.

I am Bored....bored...bored...bored...bored. I hate feeling boredom, it is so unlike me. I never get bored. I can entertain myself quite easily with drawing, crocheting, blogging, designing, and I have plenty of papers to read. But I'm not motivated to do any thing. I sit and stare at the TV. Blah. Like I said earlier, I even get bored with my shower.

I wonder if PMS has anything to do with my blahness. I do bloat, I do eat more, I feel fatigue, my schedule seems about right. Oh I hope it is just biological issues and not mental. Well, this particular issue does mess with my moods but they seem a bit more under control this time around. Possibly the increase in Prozac? That would be great because then I won't have the urge to drive over pedestrians. I experience Premenstrual Dysmorphic Syndrome. It's when a nice girl becomes murderous for a few days. The rage was unreal, and overwhelming from the slightest irritation. The symptoms were just evil. But I'm at a calm right now which is a good sign. Now I just need to work on my self-image.

Last week of teaching

Yes, it's the last week of teaching. However, not the last week for grading. I have 25 Semester Papers to read and some of the students make it so hard. I worked as an editor in some of my previous jobs. Grading Freshman and Sophmore papers can be quite difficult to digest. I'm not their English teacher I keep telling myself but some of the papers are as abstract as the paintings they are writing about. I still have three weeks to turn in grades so I'm not going to fret too much. What I do need to fret about is getting the Final Exam set up for next week. I have been so bad about postponing or procrastinating things lately. Maybe it is Spring fever. I have started my garden a bit early than I probably should considering the weather extremes of southern Utah. I'm also waiting for that high that usually comes in May. Then I'll get alot done.

Writing for Therapy

I was just reading in the BP magazine how writing is an effective tool for letting out feelings of depression or even highs. One tip is to write for 20 minutes without editing or worrying about how the words come out. So here I go -

I've been bored with taking showers. I don't like to stand in the hot water anymore. It's not that I have something better to do, I'm just bored. Or maybe I'm still in my unmotivated phase.

I actually felt the difference in breaking half of my Olazapine last night. I was worried about how my sleep would do but I did pretty well, even after sneezing in the middle of the night, I went right back to sleep. I didn't feel that hang over, sluggish feeling that I have been experiencing for the past two months. I wish I had done it earlier but I kept hoping it would ease up. It didn't. Now I'm hoping I haven't disrupted anything again. I at times will get on these what I call a "rebellious kick" and begin to mess with my treatment. I have a stubborn streak and it is still hard to accept that I have to do maintenance and that I will have relapses. It has taken some years to discover the pattern but my husband keeps an eye on me to make sure by stubbornness stays in check. I just hate taking medicine. I hate sounding like a skipping CD. I hate not having control over this condition because when I think things are going smoothly - BAM - a mood shift. Then I will question myself, question the medicines, question therapy, question if all of this trouble is worth it.

Right now I am at an okay place. Prozac is up to 40 and Zyprexa is at 2.5. Hopefully my therapist will be alright with that when I tell him this week. He knows my frustration. I've been extremely fortunate to have had the same therapist for 11 years. He has seen many sides of me. I almost kinda think of him like a big brother. He has that personality that shows he genuinely cares about you.

It's been 20 minutes and I'm getting sucked into watching the Celebrity Apprentice. Donald Trump just irritates me and yet I'm still watching. They're in the Board Room ready to argue and insult each other. Does this actually happen in the average board room?

Weed Pulling for Distraction

My hands are aching from pulling chucks of matted grass out of my Mom's flower bed. She's been trying to clean out the grass for years. It's quite ferocious and consuming of flower space. In my attempt to find ways to keep from eating and to find exercise, I volunteered to dig up the grass. Now I have a project that I feel compelled by guilt to finish. So instead of working on grading papers or my last lecture, I will probably be pulling more grass in a desperate search to find new growth of the perennials.

I hate the fact that I feel hunger frequently because I have always been the opposite. Usually I have to be told to eat because I don't have the time to waste on eating or I'm stressed or I'm too anxious. I don't have a love relationship with food except every now and then with chocolate chip cookies or Krispy Kreme donuts. I'm hoping I can get this under control and work the willpower - my pants are feeling tight, yikes.

The reason I got sucked into pulling grass was to manage my girls after school. My hubby was off in a canyon with clients and my girls can get bored real quick if they don't have enough stimulation to occupy there busy brains. They're banned from the Wii and the main computer keeps messing up. I do encourage playing outside but the two oldest would have to keep an eye on their baby sister which in turn means I watch all three of them and get nothing done. My Mom has five acres and no busy neighborhood street to worry over. I figure five acres should give each kid their own space from antagonizing each other. What do they do? They find the one spot with mud to crowd around and make mud pies. They're cute when covered in mud playing, but then one person has more mud than the other person, one person shakes mud onto the other's hair, and then we have genuine mud slinging. I tell them mud is done. Now I have to be in the same general area as them to keep the peace - so much for doing much in the garden. This is where the grass pulling came into play, a neutral location among warring sisters. However Mom appreciated the effort and I feel less guilty as well as productive. Feeling productive is good. Although by the end of tomorrow I will probably wish to have been more productive on other projects.

Hello

I have been encouraged to journal my thoughts about what I do daily to keep my sanity. I'm an artist so that makes me emotionally raw and self-critical of my work. I am a mom to three little girls - 4, 7, and 11 years old. That makes me busy with cleaning, washing, cooking, school assignments, refereeing territorial kids, and meeting extra-curricular activities like ballet and gymnastics. I am a wife which makes me emotionally needed, a good listener, a partner, an unconditional friend, and a lover. I am bipolar. That makes me unpredictable with my moods. And that is the condition I need to record so I can keep track of which episode I am feeling and how it will affect my family and work.

So far as I begin this blog, my condition has been stable with the medication Prozac and Olazepine. The most annoying side effect is still feeling sedative in the morning and the constant hunger pains. Unfortunately I have begun to gain weight and feel too sleepy to attempt any exercising. I'm trying to find a place in my cluttered house to put my mom's treadmill so that I can throw myself on it and break a sweat. I'm still in that process and my pants are feeling tight. Ugh. However, my moods have been functional. I'm not flaring up when my girls are being uncooperative, especially my youngest. She is mastering the art of being passive/aggressive with me. For example, I ask her to come here to put on shoes so we can go pick up her sisters at school. She comes but with slow steps, then she falls onto the couch, stretches, stick her feet up in the air, then tells me she doesn't want those shoes, and then I finally start threatening. She knows what she is doing and she knows my button is about pushed. I have never understood why they do these things to get me mad and themselves in trouble. Anyways, I'm not flaring up and that is a good thing.

My motivation is dragging but I think it is the Olazepine sedative effect causing the problem. I have to force myself to jump start. In a way, I'm hoping the increased Prozac from this week will trigger a hypomania. I love feeling productive and I have plenty of projects that need working on. We'll see what happens in the next couple of days. At least I'm stable finally after months and months of fighting with medications. But that is a story for another day.