Bipolar psychosis

There was no doubt a process that led me from Saturday night to Monday morning

I haven’t been very low for a long while (thanks to the 20mg fluoxetine / 550mg quetiapine meds) but I felt it had arrived during the night. Although I was wide awake at 5am Sunday morning I just couldn’t get out of bed. When I eventually did, I could barely move all day.

What dragged me down further was having to think through the logistics of the aftermath of the 3rd World War in 2030. And the 4th World War in 2032. I’ll be old and possibly not even still around, but my son will be.

This morning I knew I really shouldn’t go into work, but I’m stubborn and I pretend I’m in control of my own illness. Call it stupidity if you like.

So I went to work. And the day was marked with memory- and cognition issues. I must have appeared stupid and clueless to my staff. So of course I began to worry about that too, and decided at one point that I should hang myself from the overhead projector while the kids and staff were out at lunch.

Maybe doing this I could avert the next two world wars, seeing as how they and everything else anyhow are my own creation because life isn’t real.

Life isn’t real, I’ve mentioned before, because there was some kind of accident – probably car-related – and I am in fact in a coma or catatonic on a psychiatric ward. I am there creating all that is the world and being; nothing is real. (This is my most common, and overriding, ‘delusion’ – of course I don’t accept it is such a phenomenon.

All this is going on while I’m trying to work, either at home yesterday or in class today. It’s going to be one of those evenings where I can only laugh because it’s so ridiculous, so absurd, that I’m ending the day still alive. Driving home on the rush hour motorway was interesting, to say the least, as one of my planned suicide methods is to drive into a concrete pillar at speed.

But hey, I’m still alive. Again.

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