I'm Fine!

I had the I'm Fines last night.

They were accompanied by a late-late night, thoughts thrumming in my head, my own interior monologue and endless soliloquy, and an early-early morning, along with this burst of energy I can't explain, and a focus I've lacked for weeks. This is when I wonder if I'm showing signs of hypomania. Or if I'm merely getting better.

Of course, last night, I kept having visions of myself swaggering into my psychiatrist's office, brazen with the euphoric feeling of not being depressed, and announcing, "I'm fine! Really! I'm perfectly fine! In fact, I think I can go back to work. I think I should go back to work. And you know what? I don't really think I need these meds anymore. Because I'm fine! Couldn't be finer! No depression here. In fact, I've all this energy, see, and I've been thinking maybe I'll write that novel I'm always talking about, and I could teach on the side! That'd be perfect! And, you know, maybe this'd be a good time to go back to school, too. But I have to do the move first; Jb would insist. But after that, I mean. I could start knitting again! And reading! I'd die to cozy up in bed with a Nora Roberts trilogy on a Sunday!" And on and on. Until he saw that I really was fine, and all this disability business, and unpaid leave of absence, and medical assistance could finally be done. Because, hey, I'm fine now! I can handle anything! I don't need these meds!

Except, I do.