I'm quite medicated. I don't have the massive, supernova bursts of creativity that I had had in high school and college. I get normal sleep so I can't stay up all night working. What I used to call "inspiration" which got me through 200 pages a month doesn't exist anymore. Yet I struggle still to focus.
Coffee is a wonderful help, but it does only a fraction of what it used to do. My psychiatrist told me what I thought used to be good work done at the height of mania wasn't really. I couldn't do my best in that state of mind.
My psychiatrist also told me not to tell people I'm bipolar. Because people assume that women with bipolar disorder drown their children.
I'm bipolar 2, by the way. More depression than mania. Only I used my depression as a form of energy. So my quality must have been really poor. I don't know.
It's difficult to know what's good and not. What is real energy and what isn't. I worry that I'm too lethargic and can't write anymore. Yet I do, though it's difficult. I feel like I've lost my superpower.
I'm Lady Ristretto, writing under a pseudonym. My pseudonym has a pseudonym.