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I’ve been traveling. Much as I love it, it up-ends my world. Monday I forgot to take my morning meds until 5:30 PM, simply because my usual routine was disturbed, and not just that, it was not my usual hotel-stay routine either.

And I’ve been falling off the wagon. Several wagons, really. I haven’t filled in a mood chart in over a week, and I just don’t even care. I don’t want to bother; it’s tiresome and dull and just continually reminds me that yes, I’m still crazy, and no, I’ll never escape it. I haven’t done my Moodscope charting, haven’t filled in my other mood tracker, and haven’t kept up with my female calendaring either.

I haven’t kept up with email; it just keeps piling up and all I do is delete the ads. I haven’t been blogging (or replying to comments) although there’s plenty to be said. Instead, I’ve been writing talks the night before I have to give them (or in some cases, the morning that I deliver the presentation) and I’ve already given four talks in the last 9 days, if you count this yesterday’s little “lightning” talk. I’ll have to do another presentation on Thursday, and write yet another for next week, when I’ll be traveling once again.

I haven’t been sleeping much either. While Mr. Chickadee visited with me for a few days, I got a lot more sleep – a whopping 9 hours for two nights in a row while off the grid in a remote part of southern Colorado. But I woke up with a headache and felt tired anyway. To be sure, I had been sleeping between 1.5 – 4 hours/night for the preceding handful of days, and that kind of sleep yo-yo is nothing but trouble. But I couldn’t sleep if I tried, and I did try – I even ran myself out of melatonin! I was up at 4 AM yesterday to get Mr. Chickadee back to the airport, and then at 11:30 PM, was beyond tired. But not sleepy.

It’s been really stressful – as if that’s not obvious enough, I had to take an Ativan yesterday afternoon before I could handle continuing with the evening activities. I was already exhausted and I was going to have a meltdown if I didn’t do something. I had two drink tickets tucked into my name badge, but I knew I didn’t want to start drinking because that would be asking for trouble.

Fortunately I realized how freaked out I was in time to turn right back around into the elevator, go back to my room, and pop a pill. It helped a lot and I really should have taken it earlier, but at least I forestalled disaster and didn’t try to drink the anxiety away. Today I just tossed the whole bottle of Ativan into my backpack in anticipation of another one of those days.

Anyway, I don’t really have a point to make here, except that travel can make a mess of the most careful plans to manage life, much less bipolar disorder. And I haven’t forgotten you all; I’ll be posting my recap of my wonderful day with Ruby sometime soon, but don’t even know when that will be.

In the meantime, I’m trying to keep up with my responsibilities and make sure I get some sleep – 6 hours last night was not too bad, and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll squeeze another hour in tonight. But then again, maybe not.