Either on or Off

Being bipolar, I realize I'm either on or off. There are those times when I have to go through the motions and pretend I'm on when I'm really at a low. Work tends to be the place where that happens most often.


There are a few things I've found that prevent the manias and actually send me out of control. One is overwhelming responsibility. I used to be able to handle this, I no longer can. My brain would race for hours or days. I would work late into the night and arrive back early in the morning. Although I am bipolar and I have more mental and physical energy than most, we all have a breaking point where the batteries are run down and the quick witted responses come at a slower pace.

There was a 2 1/2 year stretch where I worked a night job so I could go to school during the day. I typically worked from 7pm to 4am and I slept from 4:45am until 6:30 am when I had to wake up for school. Getting off at 4am was a hassle as it was the same time the bars let out. During a typical five day work week, I'd get pulled over four times. I've been pulled over in the parking lot at work and the cop asks "where are you coming from?" "Um," (pointing) "right there."


I've been pulled over in my driveway and the conversation went like this:


Cop: Where are you coming from?
Me: Work.
Cop: No one works at this hour.
Me: Well you do.
Cop: Don't be a wiseass. Where are you coming from?
Me: Home Depot. I'm the night manager there.
Cop: Home Depot isn't open at night.
Me: That's when we receive the freight. It's easier to use forklifts without customers. That's why there cars in the parking lot all night.
Cop: Don't be a wiseass. Are you sure you weren't drinking?
Me: I don't drink. And I'm all sweaty and wearing dirty clothes. No one goes drinking looking like this.
Cop: An alcoholic would.
Me: I told you I don't drink.
Cop: And where are you going?
Me: Home.
Cop: And where is that?
Me: Here. This is my driveway.
Cop: How do I know you live here?
Me: My key fits the front door.
Cop: Don't be a wiseass.

It got to where I would see the cop tailing me and I would pull over. He would then put his lights on and pull behind me. I got so irritated with getting pulled over so often, I wanted to give it back to the dim witted cops. The conversation went like this:


Cop: Why did you pull over?
Me: Because I saw you behind me and I knew you're were going to pull me over.
Cop: Why did you think that? And how do you know I was a cop? Have you done something to feel guilty about? Have you been drinking? Keep your hands where I can see them.
Me: I work nights and get out at 4am. I get pulled over almost every night. I don't drink and you're driving a Crown Victoria with a light bar. It's kind of obvious. They should put you guys in a Mini Cooper with a child seat. And I knew you were going to pull me over.
Cop: Listen wiseass, I wasn't going to pull you over.
Me: Then why didn't you go around me when I pulled to the shoulder?
Cop: Don't be a wiseass. I think you've been drinking.
He didn't have the mental capacity to handle me, but he did have a badge and a gun and a radio to call other similarly equipped individuals.


Working a physical job triggered my manias and I was able to hold them until I got home. Then I typically crashed, hard. I found I can sustain the manic state once I'm in it. Like Pavlov's Dog, there are anchors one can set up and fire off to stay on the high. The longer you're on the high, the harder the inevitable crash land.


The key to crashing is to have a safe place to do it, and have people around you trust. Because crashing is like a drunk person when they pass out. People can really take advantage if you let them. I've ridden the manic wave for days only to crash on the way home. For a few years while I was still trying to understand what I was dealing with, I did more sleeping in the car than in my bed. I've slept in mall parking lots, on the side of the road, and I've even slept while driving which put a few dents in my car. The safest place to crash is in a car dealership between two cars. No one will disturb you until the morning sun rises over the dashboard. There are more than a few times where I've made it into the garage and woke in the morning still in the car. Thankfully the engine has never been on.


I've also made it into the house only to crash on the couch. In my adult life, I've slept more on the couch than in my bed. My ex-girlfriend used to give me crap about it, then she started sleeping on the couch with me. I put so much energy into my day and the manias so drain my stores, that making it down that long hallway and climbing up into the bed is so much more daunting than just rolling onto the couch, car keys in hand.