Friend had a brilliant idea in terms of identifying triggers for hypomanic episodes... I can review my blog posts. This is much easier done in retrospect.
While trying to identify hypomanic triggers in real life, I find myself second-guessing all of my behaviors and motivations.
Am I doing this because I want to, because it is a good thing to do, or because I am twisting into hypomania? Or am I trying to fend off a depressive episode...
Then of course I start acting all weird because living under a microscope is, well, weird.
Today I spent some time in the morning responsibly dealing with daily chore-type-stuff. I set a timer for 20 minutes and worked on doing the dishes etc.
Then I set another timer and folded clothes. I noticed that I was moving slowly. Breathing slowly. I didn't feel rushed. I did feel like I was moving through molasses, but I got a surprising amount done.
Then I completely ignored the timer and rearranged things in the children's room... trying to get clothing storage optimal before the start of the school year.
Trying to find a way for eldest child to be comfortable sleeping in his bed instead of face down on the hardwood floor.
After returning from the exhausting shoe buying trip yesterday, the children were very yelly and mean to each other. I knew that I would spend most of my time trying to control the meanness and yelliness (by being mean and yelly myself) so instead I hid in my room.
Wrapped my head in a top sheet. Tied it tight around my eyes. That was when I realized I had a headache.
When I was a kid I had a really tall bed-- a captain's bed with storage underneath and a little crawlspace behind the drawers so I could easily hide there. I liked being there. I didn't spend a lot of time hiding from scary things because I didn't grow up with scary things happening in my house.
But when I lived in Japan for six months and my host dad was beating my 9-year-old host-son I REALLY felt like hiding under the bed.
Unfortunately, my bed was a futon. So I went to my room and covered myself with my Japanese-style futon (more of a thick quilt than a mattress).
Now I have a platform bed with no space to hid under, either. Probably for the best.
"Where's your mom?"
"Oh, she's just hiding under the bed again. She'll come out when it's less yelly."
Grateful Crap: cooler weather
time with friends
time smashing rocks with neighbor's child
P.S. remember to ask if ther might be some connection between my "hysterical deafness" when I lose
Quaker, teacher, parent,