It is nearly 2:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep. My husband is working right now. The dogs are peacefully asleep by my side. But sleep eludes me. Having bipolar I with psychotic features can be somewhat fun. The manic episodes give me energy to clean, be more relaxed in certain social settings and drive fast in my Mustang. Well, right now the psychotic side of my diagnosis is kicking in. Things that go bump in the night really have their way of making the heart pump faster and the eyes dialate. No, it wasn’t the sadistic clown under the bed or the spies with guns drawn ready to attack me from within my closet. No, not any of the typical delusions that are keeping me from getting some shut-eye. I was brushing my teeth and I heard this loud “BANG”! It could have been our neighbors because they are loud. Or it could have been the creakiness of this old townhouse. No, those would be too logical. Instead of dismissing the noise and climbing into bed, I freak out and decide someone just tried to break down the front door. I am not hysterical – yet. I decide right then and there that I am going to go downstairs and be with my dogs. Sam (short for Samantha) is my lab/shepherd mix. She makes a pretty good protector when things that go bump in the night threaten my need for sleep. So, I jam to Jeremy Camp and write. With Sam beside me and my laptop humming away within reach of my fingers, my psychotic ideations fade to a gray instead of the black abyss that surrounded me when things that go bump in the night scared me out of my skin.