(The first post in this series is here: On Being a Social Outcast )

I’m going through yet another ‘phase’ in my addiction/obsession free experiment. This one is a little scary, so it seems. But I’m beginning to see that these are just phases I must go through on my way to wellness. And I’m going through each one at lightening speed.

I’m bipolar and I have a sneaking suspicion I’m beginning to dive head-long into a full-blown manic attack. Even though I take a bunch of pills to put me out, I was laying in bed for hours last night, stark raving awake; my mental motor pushed to full throttle.

I’m developing a ‘no-care-I’ attitude toward people. I don’t seem to be caring about anyone’s feelings. I called a clerk at Walmart stupid and really got on her case for not being able to handle my credit card transaction, then for her being unwilling to call a manager over for help. I got quite mad, and in a very loud, dramatic way, told her what I thought of her.

Then, I told my pastor to his face that he was using the Bible as an addiction and that becoming totally free of co-dependance was not that hard (which is true by the way), and I said these things to him in a pretty mean spirited way. To top it off, after I got home, I shot him an e-mail further driving home my point. With a wife who needs $13,000 worth of eye surgery, and him being out of work, he’s got his hands full. But I didn’t think about how he might take it. One of the characteristic of mania is grandiosity not caring who’s toes you step on. Grandiose is definitely what I am becoming right now.

More over, last night, though I take a truck-load of pills to put me out, I found myself laying in bed, strikingly awake. So I took an additional two more Xanax (that’s 1.5 mg for all you pill takers in the know) and even with this much, I only managed to sleep for four hours. And as I was laying there, I saw it…“I’m having the beginnings of a manic attack.”  The manic was bearing down on me like a 747. It’s scary.

I haven’t had an attack like this in years and years. And I’m hoping that writing this, will help me calm down. I know that a lot of bipolar people enjoy the high that mania can provide (a relief from depression) but I’ve been so emotionally ‘normal’  for so long that I’ve come to enjoy the steadiness. Mania scares the living shit out of me.

I’m beginning to see glimpses of my father in me again. He was a roaring crazy maniac and was completely isolated… even from his family… because he could not control himself. I’ve heard that bipolar can be passed down through generations. I’m pretty sure I inherited it from him.

Will I wind up in yet another psych ward? I’m praying I can avoid this. I hate, hate, hate those places. They take away all your rights; treat you like infants; make you use only plastic forks and knives so you won’t hurt yourself or others. I hate those places.

So I’m going to call my psychiatrist this morning at 8 am and press him to give me a same-day appointment. I have to do something about this because if I go through another night like last night, I’m going to be in serious trouble. Not sleeping for several nights will absolutely push me off the cliff into a black sea of insanity.

Pretty dramatic so far, wouldn’t you say? This is what mania can cause a person to do… be highly dramatic. So please bear with me. Even though, I can see myself falling into the mania, I’m also being able hang on to a thread of sanity. I do believe that this is only a phase in the continuing saga of what happens to a person who’s attempting to live an addiction/obsession free lifestyle.

The next post in this series is here:  Out in the Field With God