Irrational

Ours is not a rational illness.

These words were spoken by a fellow patient in conversation the other day. They could not be truer. Trying to superimpose rationality and logic upon an illness which is seemingly bereft of both is a pointless exercise. This is to say that reason would work, provided enough details of the nature of my condition were known, but few concrete answers exist. Each new round of research unlocks a few mysteries, but Sphinx-like, more often than not the conclusions drawn are themselves a new set of riddles and questions.

As with life, I am easing back into blogging. It will take several days to get back to feeling like my old self again. Though I did thankfully sleep quite a bit last night, I'm still adjusting to the transition. Psychiatry is an inexact science, at best, and while there was a substantial adjustment period getting off of the medications, now there will be a corresponding extreme adjustment period getting back on them. Ten hours sleep goes a tremendous way, though, I have to say.

When the brain scans, genetic profiles, and lab work begin, I'll be sure to post the results.