When fast is too fast …

When thoughts move from a purposeful pace, to too much, and frantic, it’s time to give in and take medicine.   I’ve been told not to look at the meds as defeat, but it’s hard.   My life, my upbringing, my take on myself is such that I have to be doing all of everything by myself to be successful.   The pills take that away from me.  It takes my star out of the sky for the next few hours and brings me down to earth.  

My job requires me to be open to a voluntarily bipolar existence.   There are a thousand ups and two thousand downs today, and two thousand ups and a thousand downs tomorrow.  I love my job because it is fast paced and awesome.  I have the autonomy to do my work and set my own schedule and make sure that I am taking care of business.   Part of what I’m working on though with all of this is realizing when to identify that there is such a thing as too fast.   There is such a thing as too much.  The damn pills aren’t the damn pills.  They’re there to help me make it through the day and keep my star from burning out completely.   I get that, right now.   Tomorrow, two weeks from now, three hours from right now, I may not.   But I get it for this instant.  That’s what I’ve got to hold to.   Because fast can be too fast.  

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