How many years has it been? Far too long. I lost my email and blogger password in a fit of pique during the manic episode that ended this unusual blog, at least, it SEEMED to. And I did start another blog called Bipolar and Disorderly, which I have kept up dutifully, all the while mourning the loss of my beautiful Fit of Pique blog, which had followed me all those years.
Well Bipolar and Disorderly is about two years old now, when I finally sat down and decided to try and crack my damn security question. It was Who was your first teacher? And I couldn’t remember until I finally did tonight.
This also means I finally have access to all my unusual emails to my then quasi girlfriend, who will remain unnamed, except as you can imagine in all the hulaballoo she disassociated herself from me.
I don’t really blame her, and I am not looking forward to reading all the weird shit I wrote to her, so maybe I won’t.
I haven’t decided what to do with Fit Of Pique yet. As in, should I do the post manic pruning that I normally do with a blog after I’ve gone crazy? Since it’s mostly the month of march and april that were crazy, I’ll let it stay. Maybe. I don’t know.
What I do know is that two years later I still have boobs and am planning to keep them. I do like being a boy, but I like being a girl too. I like being both, and for now playing with that is better for me with a butch female body.

Coming back here is almost like ressurrecting a carcass I thought was lost to the winds of mania. Mania can be such a destructive force. It destroyed one really good friendship and a whole lot of dignity. And it destroyed my memory. I was changing passwords during a bout of paranoia and that’s how I lost access to my email. And I was being all sly and clever and then couldn’t remember my settings. dammit!
That sums up the manic episode.
What I did for my banner relaxing summer apres les hopital was sit around watching American Movie Channel in a group home with some older women, as in seniors, and smoking kistemaw and listening to country. Ugh!
I went on a couple adventures that summer, like missing the last bus before curfew and having to call mum to drive me home from the racetrack, where I had gone to have just one beer and feel freedom. How depressing.
In fact it was a beautiful summer, but mostly depressing. I went to Banff and I was still over medicated and it was okay but not great.
Life after that got better, I moved into my own place, eventually moved into a place with my dog and cat, had a big grant, went to Scotland, America, a film festival here and there, worked in call centres again, and now I’m here, where I am, writing in a blog I thought I’d never get to write in again.
It’s kind of an emotional moment. I’ve MISSED this blog, and have wanted to come back and write about what it’s like to recover from my second manic episode.
I haven’t had an episode since, not even a depression after the sad summer was over. I’ve been good. Messy, but good.