Tuesday, June 14, 2005


My first psychiatrist told me that in the days before antidepressants, depression could be treated by depriving the patient of sleep. Lack of sleeps brings hypomania, at least for bipolar people. Last night I barely slept. My allergies were so bad that I could not breathe and I must have sneezed 500 times. So now I am in the grip of a hypomanic mini-frenzy of activity.

One benefit of my treatment over the years is that I recognize my moods for what they are. Hypomania can be somewhat dangerous for me, and I have to watch what I do and say. But in terms of productivity it can't be beat. So far today I have brought my car in for repair, read the newspaper in fits, cleaned both my air-conditioners in the apartment thoroughly, vacuumed everywhere, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen, did more laundry, and paid some bills. All done in a kind of madcap way. Mabel looks at me like I have lost my mind. And writing this I can barely type fast enough, and I am a very fast typist from all those years of piano playing. But I feel physically exhausted, and the fact that it is a sweltering inferno outside does not help. So I am sure that soon I will collapse and sleep, or at least I hope that I do.

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