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This is probably going to be a long meandering post. Just forewarning you so you can skip to the end which has the giveaway bit.

As I’ve said in the past, I’m Bi-Polar. I’m a diagnosed bi-polar. I’m also an unmedicated bi-polar. I have all of the outward (and inward) symptoms in spades. Saying I’m moody is the understatement of the decade.. I have periods of *DEEP* depression followed almost immediately by periods of intense mania. The depression is uninteresting, usually middle-aged man moping around wishing he wasn’t a middle aged man and quietly crying to himself that he was such an idiot and wasted his youth. Like I said, uninteresting.

The mania is fun if you’re into watching a near-40-year-old-man start actually thinking he’s 18 again and go doing something stupid like playing volleyball with a bunch of kids… (and getting his ass kicked in the process)

Bygones…

I don’t medicate for several reasons, not the least of which is that every drug I was ever tried on left me either suicidally depressed or deprived me of the ability to function in normal society…. much…like…being…bi…polar…does… Incidentally the last time I tried drugs I also tried suicide. Not anxious to repeat that little experiment.

Ok so here I am in a strange situation. Feeling both pulling at me at the same time. Sheer willpower is such that I’m *USUALLY* able to resist the random impulses that make up my manic events. For instance yesterday I WANTED to go spend $500 I absolutely don’t have on a camera that I absolutely don’t need. I went and looked at one instead. Then instantly pushed myself into a depression because I didn’t give in to my impulse. A kind of “non-buyers” remorse.

This is the way it’s been lately. I compulsively want to spend gobs of money eating “real” food (IE pretty much anywhere they don’t ask “is that for here or to go?”) but don’t and then end up not eating at all because I’m angry that I’m not having steak. (Those of you who follow me also know that I’ve not been great at resiting that particular urge of late.)

But now here’s the really bad part. I’m getting stressed. Not the usual “gritting my teeth” stressed but more along the “if that damned dog barks and jumps against the damned screen door one more time I’m going to donate him to a lab to be used for drug testing” stressed. The kind of stress that a cup of tea and a hot shower doesn’t fix.

Well my wife tells me I should find another outlet…. Encourages me in my trips to the gym to play volleyball, to play Call-Of-Duty with my son. Yeah, that’s what I need. Something that produces even more adrenalin and testosterone than I already have coursing through my stubbornly male glands, with still no outlet for the extra energy I’m busily producing.

Needless to say I spend a lot of time these days blowing up at someone. Blowing up at Disorder for not doing his chores, blowing up at Panic for being so thrilled about his new shoes that he wanted to take them to bed with him, and blowing up at Chaos for, get this, refusing to potty-train.) Wife, Co-Workers, Friends, people who can’t drive on the DC Beltway to save their lives, and finally the poor idiot @ Home Depot who doesn’t know the difference between a machine screw and a wood screw, no-one seems immune these days. (Ok, well the guy at home depot had it coming.)

That’s when I realized. I don’t have an outlet anymore. Nothing does it for me. Nothing leaves me that kind of totally relaxed that you get just after amazing sex. (Except for amazing sex of course, but between juggling three kids and too much work and me behaving like a stressed-out asshole, that’s not happening much either these days.)

So I’m going to open the floor for suggestions. And I’m going to do something I never do. I’m going to hold a giveaway.

I’m going to give a $5 State of Hawaii Collectible Starbucks card to the best suggestion. (or at least the suggestion that keeps me from barking at my kids for 24 consecutive hours)

(The best suggestion will be chosen by me using no criteria other than the fact that it was reasonable, good, made me laugh, maybe even worked when put to the test – these are my rules, I make them up.)

So fire away. There’s a Venti Latte in it for the winner.

Ok – to say I live a sedentary life is probably the understatement of the year.

I mean – the most physical exercise I get is meandering down the stairs in the morning desperately searching for that first cup of coffee that’s going to give me the energy to get me into the car to go get that second cup of coffee.

So needless to say, my wife has been on me to get some exercise.  ANY exercise.  I don’t fault her for it at all, it’s a sign that she cares about my physical health.  (My mental health has long since been a lost cause.)

I hate exercise.  Running is something you do when you’re being chased.  Lifting is something you do when you can’t afford to bribe your able-bodied 13 year old son to do it for you.  (Sometimes I have to do it myself, he’s getting bloody expensive)

So I figure out my motivation to go get on the treadmill for a few minutes.  I can go for a walk, take my iPod (with convienent video) and lose myself in an episode of House or Bones or something else along those lines.  When I get into a story it’s like time doesn’t exist, which makes 45 minutes go pretty quickly.

Tuesday night I went in for my manditory 5kph wander.  When I’m done I pace around the gym for a bit, trying to pretend I actually want to sit down at one of the machines.

Tuesday I see a bunch of people in the court playing volleyball.  My old sport.  I emphasize old because I played it way back when I was drinking illegally.

So I play Tuesday, after my 45 minute walk, for almost two hours.

Wednesday I sit in a darkened office for most of the morning and a darkened meeting room in the afternoon.  Many pain-killers later I came out of it.

Tonight I went back, much as one would go back to the scene of a car accident to relive the pain.

Tonight I went straight in and started playing.  (Those who exercize regularly will know what’s coming next)

When you go from sitting on your ass all day to suddently jumping around like a chimpanzee on cocaine…  well muscles take some breaking in…

Add that to being almost 40.

Right now, the act of typing this hurts….

Good night Gracie….