While my meds work pretty well, they are not magic. And every once in awhile, the waves of my bipolar disorder swamp the boat of my mood stabilizer, as it were.
And that happened three days ago, and it derailed my writing momentum pretty hard, as well as my workout, which I had managed not to miss a single one of (although I did day shift a few times) until this week.
I was about 1100 words into a teenage romance mystery (Hi, Chris!) and it’s still sitting there on my screen, in the same spot.
The good part is I think the tide is mostly on its way out again. I hope so, because it was rough this time. It’s been a long time since it took me off my feet.
I managed to keep the crops watered, my head on, and wasn’t an asshole to my wife, so really, best case scenario, given the realities. And I didn’t eat that box of donuts I almost went out and bought Friday morning.