Output 3--Cycling

Art marker in sketchbook, 2008.

And I don't mean the kind with wheels. Or I guess I do. I mean the same states, alternating, everything old is new again shit. Patterns. I got 'em.

I am making lists of all the times I spent months making feverish, joyous preparations for some huge, unwise, life-altering decision. And other decisions I made so impulsively, I'm surprised my head didn't explode. They all look like hypomanic phases now, including my wedding (sudden, life-changing impulse) and my divorce (months of over-confident preparation for a huge, unwise, life-altering decision). Whether it's the thrill of the no-net high-dive or the dogged determination to take ALL THE STEPS (and spend ALL THE MONEY) to become someone new, it's hypomania. No wonder I feel like I've done all this before. It's because I have.

Here's another drawing from 2008, or, the last time I burned my whole fucking life down in order to be "free" (specifically, in order to be a tattoo artist).

Time is a flat fucking circle when you're Bipolar.

PS--Saw my new Primary Care today, recommended by my new psych doc. She prescribed something to "take the edge off" the acute anxiety while the permanent fix is investigated. Now if I can just refrain from strangling the pharmacist for not having it ready yet, I might have something I can use to get back to sleep when I wake up at 4am with Freight Train Brain. Fingers crossed.