Thrown back into the trenches

Do you know the moment the joyride is over? Is it when the tears come? When you feel the mud around your ankles? When your arms feel like bricks when you roll over in bed at 2 in the afternoon?
My fantastic joyride lasted about 2 weeks. Prior to that I was lost in a nightmare for about a month. Carrying around a bag full of medication bottles in my car, so I would be at the ready.  Should suicidal fantasy need to become a reality I could take care of business easily.  That kind of business, planning one’s demise, is never truly easy. At least not for me.  But, I digress.
2 weeks of laughter, smiles, jokes, energy, self esteem, front and center in the world. Glorious nature capturing my soul and breathing new life into me. A lighthearted skip in my step as I shook hands with hypomania. Signing on for another round.
I think this is how I wanted it to be not quite what it was.  Just a notch below hypomania only because I was aware of moments I needed to slow down. I took cues from others.  I walked into my coworkers office so restless and feeling out of control. My best description was asking her to envision standing in the middle of an arcade twirling around. Every noise and movement amplified right inside my little befuddled brain. She offered to help me and put me in time out. Her office was dark and quiet. She set a timer for 5 minutes. Just the look on my face caused her to soften her tone and be encouraging. Just give it a try.
I wiggled and I labored to breathe consistently. Eyes fluttering. At 3 minutes she gave me a time check. All the sudden a montage of memories came roaring from behind me at a pace I could not control. Tears rolled down my cheeks. She whispered 2 minutes, you are doing great.  As 5 minutes came and went I was finally settled and breathing. I took one more minute for good measure. The cacophony of noise that infiltrated my mind was significantly less. There was so much work to be done and I dove right back in.
This pattern continued all week. I kept getting faster and faster both inside my body and outside. I was having a great time all the while.  Feeling super productive and super important.
Here comes Monday. Working from home as planned.  got up at my regular time. Husband left. I went back to bed. Not feeling anything in particular. Just tired. Got up at 10am and did about 2 hrs of work and then back to bed. Back up at 3:30 only because I had therapy.
Tuesday arrives and I can’t get out of bed. My alarm blares and I can’t move. Husband comes to give it to me and I mumble I have a terrible headache. I text my boss and say I’ll be in by 10. That never happened. I stayed under my covers til mid afternoon. Again I feel nothing.  Not depressed. Not hypomanic. Less than Blah!
The happy train has come to a screeching halt. Just like that.  Hopefully the crash is lite. Good ol bipolar always wanting to be in control.  Any tips on how to take control back?