Recently, my medication was altered. I was taken off mood stabiliser (Lithium) completely, and my anti-psychotic (Quetiapine, which also has anti-depressant and mood stabilising qualities) was raised to compensate. I was advised to stop taking my anti-depressant (Citaloptam) as it might be too much on top of the new Quetiapine (henceforth referred to as Seroquel, which is much easier to spell).

For a couple of weeks, I felt fabulous. I mean a normal sort of fabulous, not a manic sort of fabulous. I felt the sanest I have felt since I was 11, when I first felt Depression. Saner, even, because I haven’t hallucinated at all since the raise before the last in my Seroquel.

Suddenly doing an Open University course felt realistic rather than a gradiose pipe dream. I decided to check the local charity shops to see if they need volunteers. I have been in a relationship for over two months without dragging the poor boy along in my emotional rollercoaster as I always feared. Life was good!

And then I hit the two week mark after stopping my anti-depressants.

Just as quickly, I was uncertain that I should pay for an Open Unversity course I might not be able to complete. After all, I had had blips of what felt like normality before… and they were just blips. Perhaps I was getting carried away with all this planning, better not put too much on my plate when I was bound to go off the rails again…

Could I actually work in a charity shop? It would mean dealing with people, who I dislike in general, and doing maths, which with my extremely poor mental arithmatic skills would just lead to embarrassment and getting thrown out for being so totally useless.

How could I possibly hold on to a boyfriend when I go off the rails again? I upset and stress out my parents, who are used to me, so how could anyone who has known me only at my best for only two months possibly handle it? I’d have to stop seeing him so he wouldn’t be exposed to my mood swings until I was in a stable patch, which could take months…

In less than a day, everything I’d been planning, my thoughts about my future and my thoughts about myself did a complete U-turn, and I ended up sobbing uncontrollably, convinced that I was eaving my brief stable period forever and being cast into instability for five more years.

In the end mum took pity on me and dragged me out to the seafront, where we walked up and down, looked at shops selling touristy crap (one of my favourite past-times when in Cyprus) and ate frozen yoghurt. The distraction shifted the train of my thoughts off its destructive track and the activity, laughing at salt shakers shaped like rabbits humping and tea sets shaped like naked human torsos, and strawberry frozen yoghurt lifted me up again.

It was only a blip in my stability, but I must admit it’s shaken me a bit. It takes so little to dislodge me from ‘normality’ that I do still wonder if I will ever be truly OK or whether I will have to keep up this balancing act forever.

And then I remember that I’ve only been experimenting with medication and my lifestyle for just over a year and I feel like an idiot for expecting too much too quickly.

But really, would it spoil some kind of intricate plan the deity I’m going to invent for the sole purpose of shaking my fist at has laid to have some peace of mind NOW?!

I apologise for my poor grammar. I’m tired.