So in the middle of the night a couple months ago, I'm home alone and I can't sleep.  the dog and I are watching the Investigation Discovery channel.  which, if you've never seen it, is all true crime, all the time.  addicting.  anyway.  I quit smoking with Champix, which was amazingly easy and painless, with the added bonus that all the noise in my head tapered off and I was calm and even.  no problem.  didn't even want to smoke.  three months without smoking.  magic.

then the Champix had to stop.  and within a week, the stuff in my head came back, and having had a nice rest, it was raring to go.  middle of the night, as I mentioned, and my brain is suddenly in full-on 'you should kill yourself' mode.  I don't know why my brain is so bent on self-annihilation.  usually it takes a few months to get to that point, during which time I can get used to it, talk to it, tell it to fuck off.  use all my coping mechanisms - long walks to get physicality, music to get a bit of joy, dog cuddles, obsessive work...

anyway.  my response to the sudden rush of suicidal ideation was to get out of bed, go in the other room, find an old tin of tobacco, and make myself a cigarette.  the strong urge subsided to a manageable level.  I'm used to this...

in the morning I had a health centre appointment, a weekly bp check as they still don't like my numbers.  the nurse says to me, "how did you do with quitting smoking?"

I'm exhausted, reeling at my near-miss (or near hit?) and I say, unwisely, "I started again last night.  It was either that or kill myself"

how fast do you think I was seeing the mental health guy?

anyway.  long story short, the doctor is making 'you're bipolar' noises.  I've backed off.  I shucked my last appointment.  I don't want drugs.  (I won't kill myself.  Promise).

But the interesting thing out of all of this is that although I've known about the depression being a factor for so many years, it never occurred to me (and I'm bright, aren't I?) that the other side of it, the high points were also an altered state.

And I don't want to think that everything I am is attributable to some sort of brain chemistry imbalance.  awkward.  more obsessive rumination is needed.  In many ways, the depression aspect of me has driven a lot of the things I've done.  proving to myself that there was meaning in life, forcing myself to perform difficult juggling acts and get every last drop of work out of myself.

If I relax, how will I finish my Phd?  hahahaha.  I'm pretty sure that starting that was a definite sign of mental illness.  although I am enjoying it.

This week I'm vibrating a bit.  Just a mild undertone.  listening to X Ambassadors' Renegade on repeat.  talking too much.  getting the urge to write blog posts :)  wanting to go for reallllly long walks.  (dog doesn't mind this phase).  but that's fine, because I've got a presentation to finish for a conference in June.  and an ethics document to write.  which I should get back to...