After spending much of the past few days sewing as though if I didn’t finish *right then* I never would, I had a bit of an RA flare up last night (with a side order of heartburn).
If I’d been paying attention, I would’ve noticed that the frantic determination to complete a simple sewing project–especially a completely impromptu and non-essential one–was a sure sign that a manic episode was brewing.
That wasn’t important at the time. I had a mission.
I also was invited to join a very interesting writing project yesterday, so I clearly *had* to finish the sewing so I could get started on writing. I had to.
The sewing caused good ol’ Arthur to act up, and Goddess knows why the reflux had to join the party. By the time I had kicked those two out for the night, there would be no more sleep for me. My mind was up and at ’em.
I wrote a little. I checked Facebook constantly for someone, anyone to pop online. I had a few friends I wanted to talk to, but I also had a racing mind that craved stimulation and interaction.
More writing followed once the rest of the household was awake. I feverishly sorted through my old poetry for potential submissions, then wrote yet another short story when I ran out of material that would fit the project.
My manic steam ran out after about 36-37 hours of sleeplessness. Thank the Gods.
Now, following a two hour nap, I feel more tired than I did when I was in the midst of the insomnia (not to mention feeling slightly punch-drunk).
I suppose I should pay more attention to when one of these episodes is approaching. Then again, I have a very cute handmade purse and a few new literary gems….