The night of July 8 – 9 of this year. I am manic depressive in a fantastic way and the way I felt that night was the worst I have ever been; even the breakdown I had in college, though lasting for a longer period of time because reasons, wasn’t as bad as that was. By the grace of God I made it through. I was almost gibbering mad, and you might strike the “almost” depending on whether text messages and e-mails never sent count.
Then, at about 3:00 in the morning, it was like I went through the five stages of grief in the span of two hours, and then all was calm. Seroquel is a seriously powerful drug. It’s like the mania ran right into Mjölnir.
