I hate amusement park rides. My body doesn’t appreciate being whipped up, down, and around for the sake of an adrenaline rush. As a kid, when we took class trips to Great Adventure, I tagged along with the I-hate-roller-coasters crew and spent the day eating fried dough.
Why am I thinking about amusement parks?
Because these past few days, I’ve been riding an all-too- fast mood swing that resembles one of these Rotor rides that spins (willing!) participants around a million miles an hour.
It’s like this: before I can even settle into feeling depressed, I’m up. Then I’m down. And back around.
Can you relate?
Rapid cycling is a diagnosis that exists, but what’s happening to me isn’t the full cycling from manic to depressed. It’s something different.
And then I have to laugh at myself and ask: Maybe this is just, well, life?
But the difficulty of swings like this when you’re bipolar is that once you get a taste of that hypomanic high, you want it to keep going for at least a few days. (I mean, jeez.) And when you’re feeling unusually low even for a few hours, the worry sets in that you’re plummeting into a depression.
What I want is to step onto ferris wheel of mood “swings”– to glide through the ups and downs of my life with a speed that allows me to look out into the distance and catch my breath.