My mom asked me to take her somewhere today. 

I’d explain to her that the side effects of my medication left me up most of the night & I am now too fatigued to drive anywhere. My muscles and joints ache and my memory isn’t the greatest. I’d explain that my mood isn’t currently stable. I’d explain that standing in line in the DMV is not an option for me since I cannot stand for long periods of time. I’d explain that large crowds and driving thru morning commuter traffic is a trigger for a panic attack and when I have one in public especially, I’m humiliated and the symptoms mimic those of a heart attack. 
You see, I’d explain if I could. However, despite my best efforts, she wouldn’t understand. It’s not from a malicious source. She just… doesn’t get it. 

So, I’m going to tell her I’m busy. It’s true. I’m busy resting because I have to conserve energy to pick my son up from school later. I’m busy trying to concentrate to the best of my ability because I have a test for college due tonight. I’m busy regulating my emotions so I don’t hurt those around me in a mixed episode of mania and depression. 

I’m busy.