The Start.

Today it’s 84 degrees.

This means shorts, sweating, and daiquiri ice ice cream from Baskin-Robbins.

This means sandals, deodorant working overdrive, and my freckles sizzling into existence.

This means my dogs periodically pausing to lie down on cool grass during walks, smelling like sunscreen, and daydreaming about the pool that doesn’t open until June 12 which is a torturously long ways away.

But this also means that my brain breaks.

The first hot day of late spring or early summer I wake up to the sound of my brain crackling. Fizzing like pop rocks which are delicious and Alka-Seltzer that promises to alleviate heartburn. But my heart is perfectly fine, it’s my brain anchored by labored breathing that I’m worried about. I feel it in my skull, sticky and slimy, swirling in bipolar radiation. I tuck my hair behind my ears so I can better hear my brain bathing in my crazy chemistry set.

I take a nap next to the fan, surrounded by three dogs trying to breathe easy, but it’s hard to sleep peacefully and sluggishly when I’m worried that if I close my eyes my brain threatens to bleed from my tear ducts. My hands shake and my lips writhe when I slip an antipsychotic under my tongue. An atypical antipsychotic because I’m atypical. Actually, I don’t think that’s what that means but I’m not sure anymore. My thoughts are perspiring, perplexing cotton balls. It’s hard to read, write, think, and gargle words in my mouth. Everything is diluted and blurry and I know I have Old Navy tank tops somewhere but I can’t find them. I also know the second my husband gets home he’ll know exactly where they are. I also also know that they are probably right in front of me and I just can’t see that corner of colorful cotton reality. I also also also know that it’s ok to ask for help.

The first hot day of late spring or early summer signals the start of my brain bubbling and boiling and I have to be incredibly cautious because this cranial kitchen can cook up mania. Sounds like a summer treat to me but it makes everyone else anxious. Mania is my decadent downfall but at least now I see it for what it truly is; sparkly sickness.

Self-care in the summer: large brim hats, staying hydrated, and trying to stay sane.

Happy Mental Health Awareness Month.

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