Recovering, Part II

There is more I want to say about what it felt like to be off meds.  I'm not sure how to put it into words, but I want to describe what my mind felt like.  The closest analogy I can think of is a computer program with an endless loop, a programming error where a function is performed over and over again without any provision for stopping.  The program will run forever, doing the same thing again and again.  It is a fatal error, and can only be stopped by manually stopping the computer from executing the program. 

It was as though I could feel the neurons in the surface area of my brain firing away, but there weren't any thoughts attached to this activity.  It felt like I was wearing a brain cap that caused interference with my thought processes.  That's the best way I know to describe the sensation inside my head.  It was hard for me to think things through.  I was easily distracted, forgetful, and disconnected from the world.  And I did not have the ability to put things in any real kind of perspective.  I was traveling through life in low gear.

Now, after 11 days on meds, the brain cap is gone.  I can think more clearly.  I'm still not 100% but definitely much better.  It takes 2-4 weeks for the full effects of the meds to take place, and each day is a little better than the day before.

A cautionary note, however.  My latest slide began while I was still on meds.  It began when I stayed up all night with June's family the night she died.  Missing a night's sleep was not good for me.  The next week I got sick.  Then we began working overtime.  Then I ran out of meds.  This is a good lesson for me.  Each step of the way, I expected to get better (it's always the next day or the next week, things will be better), but I didn't get better; I got worse.  I've got my toolkit out, and I am typing up a list of early warning signs, and I will post it where I can see it every day.  That should help me stop and take action to reverse the next slide.