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The Anatomy of a Manic Upswing

From

Updated July 09, 2006

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My first sign is anger. I am by nature a person with absolutely no temper -- unless I'm manic. When I feel myself getting angry about things I cannot control, and getting angry at people, I know I might be getting manic.

After that, another first symptom is having a constant smile on my face that I can't wipe off. The smile hurts, and it's exhausting. I also notice right away that I hear voices and see things when I'm trying to fall asleep. Then I start getting ideas of things I need to do -- learn how to bake things, reorganize everything in my house, call all of my friends (but the minute I have them on the phone I'm too agitated to concentrate on one thing).

All those, for me, are the very first stage. Next, my mind switches from wondering whether I might be getting manic, and being concerned about it, to KNOWING I am getting manic, denying to myself that anyone can help. Then I completely go inside myself -- I see things, hear things, have huge conspiracy theories, and I can't tell anyone. I have to hide from cameras on lampposts and traffic lights. Everything I see is symbolic, a puzzle for me to put together.

Next, I stop sleeping completely. I can't eat. I need constant noise, two or three sources at once, or all I can hear is silence and it scares the hell out of me. I try to have conversations with people -- while hiding all I suspect -- and I can't stay on one subject. People get tired of talking to me because my speech is uninterrupted; I can't make myself stop to let them respond. Then, the television starts talking to me. I start collecting things that seem to have significance--used Band-Aids, newspaper articles, twigs, food containers.

Finally, I become terrified of myself, terrified of people who love me, terrified to be found out and caught and locked up -- I know when I get hospitalized that all this important knowledge that's central to my survival will be erased. My mind will be wiped clear. I'll have another camera implanted under my skin, and I'll never again have a moment alone. I talk to strangers, pleading with them, about things like going to heaven and avoiding FBI surrounding tactics. My driving is dangerous; I can't be bothered with traffic lights. I get hurt; I get hit on the head, cuts, bruises -- I get hurt because I can't pay attention to how my body feels, I'm trying to save my mind.

Usually, about this time, I get hospitalized. I'm somewhere and the police come. The whole process can happen in 3 or 4 days, or it can stretch out to a month.

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