Oh I was so enjoying the past few days of creativity, productivity, sociability, all sorts of -ilities. Should have used some of the energy to clean my house….but I was too busy writing my novel, which I think is going to be wonderful (and not just according to hypomanic me).
I used to write reams of poetry when depressed, only to throw it out when hypomanic; and vice versa. Now I haven’t written a poem in thirty years. Nevertheless I have learned that the feelings that I feel are real, whether for up or for down. And I don’t discount them.
My excellent psychiatrist says that just in the same way some people have sensitive lungs or sensitive stomachs, some people have sensitive brains. Even if I were not a sensitive-braniac, I would still agree with him. I’m sure many of you will have what to say about this.
Now it is late on Friday afternoon, and I am finishing my Shabbat preparations, which are not elaborate because I have felt like I’m swimming in a sea of cold molasses all day. Maybe tomorrow will be better, and if not, at least it will be Shabbos and i can just do what Jews are commanded to do on Shabbos: rest.