Yesterday was a day of mostly positives.
Despite starting the day with a whopper of a headache, I was still able to get out to a coffee shop with former co-workers for some greatly needed socializing. I need to remember that we humans are social by nature and it does me well on an evolutionary-level to get out to the local watering hole with some like-minded primates. I'm glad I could let my proverbial hair down (I'm bald) and forget all of my concerns for a little while.
Trick-or-treating was about as perfect as I could have imagined. Shelby was able to get home early from work and we made it over to my ex-wife's house just in time for the festivities to begin. It was great seeing the kid's excitement and joy as we trudged along at toddler-pace around the neighborhood. Emma is perhaps still a little young to grasp the full concept of the thing, but Cameron was having the time of his life. He has been looking forward to this all month, and I am glad I could be there and be sober to see him reveling in it. And I am so glad that Shelby could be there - she acts as a sort of barrier between my ex and I - just more evidence of how amazing and understanding of a person she is. My great attenuator.
After getting some Chipotle with my love, we called it a night and went to bed. She worked a 10 hour shift and followed it up with the aforementioned Halloween-ing, so was deservedly beat. I, however, was having another bout of hypomania and couldn't get my mind to calm down enough for sleep. I have had plenty of nights like this before, where it feels like my brain is absolutely strobing with activity and sleep is an afterthought, a contradiction, and miles away - a problem for tomorrow's me to deal with. I was in and out of bed between 10 PM and 3 AM with such rapidity I am surprised I didn't get whiplash. Despite my over-active brain screaming at me to get some relaxation juice, I stayed sober.
Instead, I leaned into my sporadic and varied thoughts, because they clearly weren't going away. First, I researched Bipolar 2 disorder. This is something I have suspected may be playing out behind the curtains of my mind's side-show for quite some time, and was quasi-validated recently by someone I trust dearly who happens to also be qualified in that realm. I stumbled upon forums and the sub-reddit for Bipolar 2 and felt seen in a way I haven't felt seen before. I can't explain how much the posts resonated with me because I have always felt so other - so foreign and wrong - I felt seen and understood for once.
I explored philosophy. I delved into quantum mechanics. I pontificated on simulation theory and what it means to be human with my non-human companion, ChatGPT. I felt insane and visionary at the same time. I was trying to capture the lightning coursing through my synapses in some meaningful, constructive way. I was trying to apply order to chaos and feeling insane in the process. Sleep eluded me until Shelby eventually woke up and helped bring me back to reality. She is my lighthouse when I am lost at sea in the dark recesses of my mind. She's my beautiful beacon when I feel lost beyond hope. She's my anchor. And she was f$$king concerned because I was still up after 3, which usually means I am drunk off my a$$. I'm glad I could prove her wrong - no I'm not drunk, just a little bit f$$king insane.
I woke up this morning to Shelby getting ready for work and encouraging (pleading) me to get more sleep. I took her advice and got some much needed rest. Still feeling manic today, as this novel of a post will attest to - but, also feeling more grounded than I was yesterday. I know I will weather this storm better sober. Hopefully today is more grounded and even-keeled. But even if it isn't, at least I know I will be sober for it. I will not drink with you today.