Six days stuck to my bed resulted in a 4-hour wait for a med-check at Urgent Psychiatric Care (UPC) in downtown Phoenix. I resumed the same idiocy of pretending I was sick instead of admitting I was in a downturn. In my defense, at least it only took 6 days for me to seek help…so something must be working.

The provider who saw me, after a psychotic patient-filled waiting room adventure (happily I was not one of them), shared with me her brilliant observation about the clean-house theory. She told me that, even under medication, there will be good days and bad days…“Sometimes the house is dirtier, sometimes it’s cleaner”…her pearl of wisdom.

She also offered me what she said has become a psychiatric diagnosis term: leaden paralysis. I concur. It’s the exact feeling after a journey to the left pole…where I get stuck. LEADEN PARALYSIS. After a hasty Google search, the description does appear to be in use among the Bipolar Disorder community. Validation.

Not that it makes me feel any better.

An increase in Wellbutrin was what the doctor ordered. I am weary of medication adjustments. I hope it is going to be an improvement. I do not enjoy despair, hopelessness, tears for no reason. I describe this event as “magnetic magnification” (MY pearl of wisdom): while my depression is mostly not event-specific, it does seem to attract and exaggerate the rest of my struggles: jobless, loneliness, moneyless, hopeless, useless.

My next trip to the right pole…I hope my fingers can keep up with my thoughts so I can give you a glimpse into how brilliantly- and wonderfully-creative I think my brain is.

For now, my dull attempt at self-deprecation will have to suffice.