Bipolar When It Counts

So today was my son’s annual school family picnic.  My hubby and I walked to the school, having decided to bring a lunch along, instead of buying pizza.  We arrived at the school and were immediately swarmed by children.  There were tiny, squalling babies, toddlers under foot and school age children up to the ripe old age of 14.  Then the parents of all the said children.  To say it was a madhouse would be an understatement.

Unfortunately, my new meds aren’t working — at all.  I was completely overwhelmed by the noise and activity.  Walking on the front doors of the familiar school was almost too much.  Hubby and I made our way to Squirt’s classroom– in my absolute anxiety, it was a vague, barely recalled room, in an unidentified wing.  I can’t express enough how relieved I was to reach this oasis of calmness, normally a stressful place for me.

After collecting Squirt, we had to make our way back into the melee.  I braced myself, but began to panic as we headed back down to the gym, where it seemed the entire school, plus every available family member, had gathered to eat.  In my mind, I had a glimpse of what life would be like in a refugee camp.

We sat down on a bench near the door to eat.  I saw my three beautiful nieces in the middle of the gym and waved– I couldn’t bring myself to go say hello just yet.  I took a few pictures of Squirt and Hubby goofing off, trying to steel myself to venture into the mess of bodies to my nieces, which, I am happy to say was able to do. I took a few pics of them, and escaped to the sidewalk outside the school.

We watched Squirt play soccer with some friends before leaving. We were halfway home before my anxiety began to ease. As a sidenote, I have a bottle of lorazepam in my bag for occasions like this, but do you think I remembered it?

Hubby and I were just crossing the train tracks when, after 20 minutes or more of silence, I felt the need to speak.  “What do you want to have for lunch?” A long moment passed before he answered with “we already did.”

I was floored.  We already did?  When?  How did I miss that?  It must have taken a full five minutes of wracking my brain before I clued in.  Right. Family picnic. Duh. 

As this so aptly demonstrates, my memory of late is shot.  I have said many times over the last few months that I can’t remember s*** anymore.  Trust me, if its not in my phone’s calendar with multiple alarms to accompany it, I. Will. Forget. Period.

I guess it is kind of funny, in a why-can’t-it-happen-to-someone-that’s-not-me kind of way. Because, to be honest, I don’t even know what day of the week it is most of the time.

All I can do is hope it will pass as my meds finally kick in.


et cetera
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