The Usual Suspects

Monday mornings always kill me, thus no blog yesterday.  Routine is paramount when you have bipolar disorder and anything that disrupts that routine can cause what I like to call little “bipolar glitches.”  Seems like every weekend, I sleep in a little bit on Sunday because I’ve stayed up a little too late on Saturday night.  While it’s all fine and good in the moment, Monday mornings are extremely difficult to wake up to. 

It doesn’t help that my sleep has been less than stellar lately, really a life-long problem that gets exacerbated from time to time.  The current theory is that I have sleep apnea (along with the bipolar glitches), which causes me to wake up about every hour on the hour, all night long.  I have made an appointment with my primary physician, after quite a bit of nagging prompting by those that love me (and those that want to sleep in the same room as me, especially). 

The hopes is that he will refer me for a sleep study, that my insurance will cover that sleep study at an affordable rate, and that I can afford any subsequent treatment that is prescribed for me.  QoB is especially convinced that this will change my life, literally.  It’s hard for me to imagine a world in which I sleep soundly each night, truly is.  But I’m ready to explore my options, finally, after years of willfulness on the subject.  It never fails to amaze me all the different (and very creative!) behaviors/thoughts I can develop that only get in the way of doing what works.  Time to practice some effectiveness.

I am going through a really slow period at work, as I believe I have mentioned, and sometimes it’s incredibly difficult to put myself to the little administrative tasks that could keep me fairly busy.  I have scheduled a bunch of things for the end of the week, however, so hopefully that will help counterbalance all of the paperwork I’ve had to do lately.  I suppose it is a good thing to be able to catch up on all the paperwork, as QoB says, preparing for the next onslaught of releases and craziness.  It’s just difficult for me for my time to be so unstructured. 

Dr. Love and I had a very lovely weekend.  He ended up coming to the games with Dad and I and, believe it or not, actually had a good time.  While I don’t think he is ready to go back quite yet, it was nice for him to be able to get out of the house for something other than job-searching.  On such a note, the economy here really sucks and jobs are few and far between even to apply for.  He has been able to put out several here lately and is to the point where he is ready to do pretty much anything, maybe except for work in the food/restaurant industry.  I don’t worry about his not having a job from a standpoint of money, but I do worry about it from a standpoint of his mental health.  I think it’s really difficult to be a man and feel like you need to provide and be unable to, even temporarily. 

Norah Jones, Humble Me

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