Crumbs of Clarity

I had a few moments of clarity yesterday, and the day before.

They came after some false jags of very brief euphoria that swept up then faded — poof — like smoke. After a smattering of giddiness that quickly delved into agitation, then suddenly teetered on the edge of a pit.

I’ve never watched my own brain’s signals so closely in my life.

But once or twice, it was like the air calmed, the fog cleared. Nothing sudden or spectacular, I just noticed at some point I felt okay, even happy, for a little while.

God, I hope this means the new meds are working.

Unfortunately, it hasn’t lasted (yet). Last night my brain stirred darkly and buzzed and sparked ideas, and sleep came hours late and choppy at best. More. Stupid. Dreams.

This morning, my wayward brain couldn’t hold a cohesive thought at first, and I lay vague and mumbling as my spouse left for work, my hair curtained over my face, unable to remember how to start the day.

It’s a bit better now. I’m getting up, maybe even able to dress. But as usual — dammit — I have to revise my expectations for myself today. As always, sharply downward.

So I won’t get those early errands done. I won’t charge into the studio and wade into my latest painting commission with linseed oil in my nostrils and music cranked in the background.

I’ll get up. Dress. Descend. Feed myself. With effort. If I’m lucky AND strong enough, I’ll walk outside in the sun…

…and wait for something else to happen inside my head.

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