mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Desperation)
[personal profile] mousme
Am feeling the black dog looming up behind me, silent and menacing, its fangs gleaming in the dark.

Shit. It was so much more fun being hypomanic. Then again, I should have seen this coming. I've been chirpy and happy for ten weeks now, with only a blip on the radar now and then. I went overboard last week, so it's about time I came down, right? I was getting into the "crabby" stage of hypomania anyway, when it isn't fun anymore, only unpleasant and scary.

I've felt myself slipping all week, further and further, and now I'm just clinging by my fingernails. I'll be fine at work, with other things to occupy my mind and my time. Left to my own devices, I'll brood.

I've been feeling pretty much alone lately, no matter what I do to remedy it. My friends all seem distant, happily ensconced in their lives that involve long-term planning and moving and creating families and new bonds, and I feel as though I'm stagnating by comparison. Struggling to pay my bills, scraping together change at the end of each week so I can see what friends are left here in Montreal for brunch.

I'm waiting for September 15th. That's my private deadline for how long I'll wait before bringing up the subject of my permanent status at work.

I have to go to bed early tonight.
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mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Default)
mousme

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