I missed one (1) dose of my antidepressants because I ran out, and I’ve been busy organising appointments for my wife and her sisters whom I thought needed their antidepressant refills more than I, and it resulted in a manic episode that lasted hours. 

It wasn’t even one of those Fun manic episodes where you get inspired and fold all the laundry off your Clothes Chair and learn a new language and try your hand at yoga and food prep like you’re still in lockdown. I completely dissociated, and pestered my wife so much she cried and asked if I was still here or if I was gone. I was gone, and I told her that much. 

When I tried to go to sleep I had so many unusual hallucinations and bad feelings and I just... genuinely was gone. Some other strange bully took over. I wasn’t cruel like I used to be, and my wife is weathered to my shit, and I’ve worked a lot on myself and my BPD to get me Functioning and Nice, but it was as though I had a nice big Mania Moment to make up for all the Mania Moments my antidepressants had squished down. Today, I feel ashamed and embarrassed and all those nice feelings that come after an episode. Emotional regularity? Who is she?

My script is getting refilled today, at least. Phew.