I had a rapid succession of near-blackout episodes yesterday—which are a super-fun side effect of my bipolar med cocktail—in a friend’s yard, and she had to social-distance nurse me back to some semblance of mental presence and then drive me home. I usually have 4-5 greyout episodes a week, and I know how to manage them and get on with my day. But yesterday the Mother Ship came by to zap me into foggy, flashing-lights-in-my-eyes submission.
I’m 95% human again this morning, but you can tell I’m still not 100% present on the planet because of my super-fabulous alien hair.
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