It's Late, And I Need To Write

I have no idea what to write about, but I can feel the words and the tears welling up in my mind and my heart. I do not know where these things, the words, so often accompanied by tears of joy and sadness, come from.

I turned 44 yesterday. Birthdays are not something I have particularly enjoyed since I was about 16. That was a very bad year for me. That was the year I claimed PTSD as my own. Later, undiagnosed Bipolar disorder would emerge like a caterpillar becoming a twisted version of a butterfly. I lost myself that year, and the few years following are fuzzy with drugs and alcohol as I attempted to blot out feeling. I never did succeed in blotting out feeling. All I felt was anger; rage at a world that could allow this to happen to a child. I still rage at the world that allows children to become a victim first, and then, slowly, a survivor, if that is what you want to call it.

I finally have a date for my disability hearing. Two weeks after my birthday, one year after the medical review of my disability began, seven months after the “official” declaration of my medical improvement. I do not feel new and improved. I still feel like my life has been steamrolled like newly poured asphalt. It is just in Technicolor these days due to medication designed to make me stable and mad all at the same time. I do not think these bureaucrats have any idea what it is like to be up and down at the same time. That’s the stability I have achieved; I am manic and depressed at the same time. Does that mean that my symptoms are “managed” or does it represent the only balance I am going to find? 

As I sit here and listen to my Soundgarden Pandora station that plays everything I like from blues to what is now playing (The Red Hot Chili Peppers), I contemplate everything I have not accomplished with my life. Everything had seemed promising a few years ago, weird as my life is, but promising nonetheless. Now, I find myself wondering how to pay the rent next month. I find myself going up against new college graduates trying to find a job. The only thing I have on them is a few years experience. They have MBA’s, degrees in Accounting, Economics, Engineering. I have a degree in Sociology and Psychology. Interesting subjects but just not all that useful when one has worked in financial services for the past ten or so years. 

I have hit that strange place where I am so stressed out that I have achieved a sense of unshakable calm. It is not a pleasant calm. It is an acceptance of the inevitable. I just do not think I am going to be terribly convincing as a severely depressed Bipolar. I hide my illnesses from myself and others so that I may live a semblance of a normal life.This “skill” is not going to serve me well with a committee designed to find the flaws in my argument.

My heart is heavy and weary, and I feel a powerful need to cry. However, the tears refuse to come to my eyes and overflow down my cheeks. So, I remain stoic overflowing with feelings I cannot name, but like a teacup with a crack, they will come out as a trickle at first, and a flood next when the teacup breaks under too much pressure.

This Is How You Freak Out Someone With Mental Issues

 ..…….Send a Bipolar Type I with psychotic features, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Anxiety with and without Agoraphobia a cessation of disability benefits because some bureaucratic idiot determined you had improved medically and were physically able to work. For crying out loud, people at the SSA, I did not file for disability for medical/physical reasons. I applied under the mental health guidelines because my brain does not work the way it should when it comes to anxiety and mood regulation. I also have ADD which makes it really difficult to focus for more than about 45 minutes. 

That is how to freak out someone who already will automatically think: the world is over as far as I know it, and do I have enough medication to end the whole debacle right now. Not that I would do this. I made a vow to myself and all the powers that run the universe that if I got through the last attempt (which damn near killed me) without brain damage or any physical problems that I would never try that again. It came too close to being final, and that scared the living hell out of me. I do not want to die; I want the mood swinging to stop. Not too much to ask or maybe too much to ask.

And the spiral is getting worse the longer I wait. This whole process started in July 2014. It is now nearly April 2015. What’s that? Something like 8 months this has been going on. It is time for them to either approve or deny my appeal. I will appeal to a higher ajudicator on my 2nd appeal, but I am tired. That mental and physical tiredness that can only come from worrying and being on pins and needles for 8 months while the SSA folks cool their heels. It is a tiredness of the mind.

I have just about had it; I am too stressed, I am having major problems with anxiety (upped my dosage back to its original amount), depression (antidepressants do not seem to work on me), and mania to some degree. All this because of a letter; I think the average person might not fight so hard, because physical improvement is visible. Mental health is invisible, intangible so you have to argue twice as hard to prove that you are a walking mental case. None of this is right. Sorry if I seem hostile, but I am pissed off to no end right now.

Okay, I Am Starting To Get Nervous

 

My insurance company has been notified that I no longer have Medicare part B, and they sent out a letter about two weeks ago that I would no longer be eligible for the Medicare Advantage plan that I have been on for about six years now. My insurance (read: prescriptions) will end at midnight on March 31st. I have about 1.5 months worth of Abilify and about 3 weeks worth of Seroquel left. I am not going to be able to fill the Seroquel in April, and the Abilify is going to run out in mid-May, give or take. The two prescriptions combined cost about $1900.00 per month. That’s more than I get per month on disability which, if you have read the previous few posts, has been denied due to a resounding medical improvement. With all due respect to the Social Security Administration, when someone who has been on and relied upon disability to pay rent, pay for groceries, utilities and what not for about 9 years, this type of situation is going to cause a medical slide back down the hill. I do not think they recognize the severity of the situation. Since I received that letter notifying me that my benefits were to be discontinued, I have grown depressed, extremely anxious, panicky, sleepless (which really helps people with Bipolar….not), and a whole host of other symptoms that had become manageable. Now, I am back to crying at the drop of a hat, my Klonopin usage is back up to the prescribed dosage (I had managed to drop it to half), and I do not know what I am going to do when the Abilify runs out. I am going to be an untreated mentally ill person again, and that scares the living hell out of me.

I remember what it was like to be untreated. My moods were all over the place, I have been told that I could be quite the bitch, I abused drugs and alcohol in a vain attempt to regulate my moods on my own, and it just wasn’t a pretty sight. I am afraid that I am going to get suicidal again, not just of the ideation variety, but of the type that attempts it. I already have 7+ attempts under my belt, and the last one was nearly successful. I have been assured that my benefits will continue throughout the appeal process, and that data has been entered to resume my benefits. However, I have also been told that sometimes that data just kicks out of the system, and I won’t know that until April 3rd when the next check is to be deposited. This is going to be two weeks of extreme anxiety: will I get my check, will Medicare be reinstated as the liaison between the SSA office here and the Benefits Determination Services has assured me? I do not want to see what is going to happen.

Everyone keeps telling me that the Affordable Care Act is supposed to be in place to take care of these problems, but I have looked at the supposedly “affordable” insurance programs available, and unless you want a huge out of pocket expense, you won’t get a premium below about $250.00 per month. If you don’t mind having an out of pocket expense of around $6000.00, your monthly premium is going to be in the $350.00 per month range. Add $350.00 to the roughly $2100.00 worth of prescriptions I take monthly, and it is just not feasible.

Even the thought of trying to secure a job that has benefits gives me a panic attack. What if I have a depressive episode, and I cannot function at home or in the workplace? I’ll just lose another job, I guess. I have never been able to keep a job longer than two years because something always goes wrong; I make a stupid mistake, or the job is beneath my qualification level and I get bored and then I get depressed. Then I get fired for not being able to complete tasks on time, or finish them at all. I have a hard time following instructions (ADD) spoken or written. I have a huge problem with micro-management; just piss off and let me work, it will get done if you aren’t in my face every half-hour. 

I am getting nervous to the point of actually being afraid for myself. How am I supposed to live? These are not entitlements. Disability benefits are paid out of taxes that I paid into while I was working for about 17 years. I earned these benefits. I also was doing some more reading on what types of conditions are eligible for benefits: if I was a drug addict or alcoholic, I would qualify for disability benefits. I am sorry, but drug addiction and alcoholism may not be conscious choices, but they are choices none the less. Having a few mental health issues is not really a choice. It just sort of happens to people especially those with mental health problems in their families.

My parents (my mom, really, because my Father is too narcissistic to think about much other than how he plans to retire with a few million under his belt) can only help so much and for so long, and I really don’t want their help. As it stands, my mom helps me more than I would like, but it is a necessary evil. I appreciate everything they have done, and I am extremely grateful to have parents that are living at my age, as well as, having the means to help to a point. It is a very fine line. My life was built on a house of cards, and the SSA pulled one of the foundation cards out so the whole thing fell. I am seriously beginning to freak out.

The Dreaded One Year Anniversary Is Here

Dissolution of Marriage

Today is the one year anniversary of the dissolution of my marriage. I have no idea how I feel today. I do not mean depressed or manic as those are mood states that encompass many other emotions. I am definitely not depressed (well not really depressed; I am always depressed), and I am definitely not manic (at least in any noticeable way). I am something else today. I do not know if I feel sad although I know that would be an appropriate emotion to have, I do not know if I feel somewhat angry that my ex-husband’s behavior forced my hand and made a divorce the only logical thing to do, or maybe I feel both sad and angry. Perhaps, it is a much more tangled set of emotions: I feel sad that marriage counseling didn’t work, I feel angry at him for not taking the counseling and/or my feelings seriously, I feel a certain amount of failure that, in spite of two attempts at counseling, the marriage still came apart. Maybe, I feel a certain amount of relief? That just seems so wrong to feel, though.

I know I am still angry with him for the behavior he engaged in that was really the root cause of the failure. I am trying really hard not to blame him; the behavior he was and is still engaging in is classified as an addiction in the DSM~5. However, it is very difficult for me not to blame him to some extent because I think that everyone has a tendency to point the finger at the other when it comes to things of this nature. He blamed my reactions to his addiction on my having Bipolar disorder (which he never bothered to become even remotely educated about), he blamed it on my lack of ego (if I had no ego, his addiction would not have bothered me to the extent it did, hello), he blamed my reactions on low self-esteem (once again, if I did not have some regard for myself, it wouldn’t have bothered me because I would have been a door mat). He pointed the finger at me and blamed me for his addiction. That still just flat out pisses me off. However, having been an addict of a different kind, I can see the behavior of blaming whoever and whatever is handy, and understand that is part of the nature of addiction.

He doesn’t and will never see it that way until he knows with his heart and soul that he has a problem. It is one thing to know intellectually that one is an addict. It is another thing entirely to own it, make it yours and yours only, and then get help. So far, he has only recognized it intellectually, and with me gone, he sees no reason to stop even though it will impact the next relationship and the next and the next. In many ways, I feel sorry for him that he just cannot see it.

I think also that I feel a sense of loss of self. I am not the same person who went happily into this marriage thinking it would be my one and only for the rest of my life. I have allowed myself to become jaded, cynical and suspicious of the motives of men, in general. I didn’t really realize this until several guys had hit on me, and my reaction to them was to question their motives. They could have been nice guys who just wanted to get to know me. I have been deeply wounded, and I do not know how to heal because the person who hurt me claimed they loved me more than anything else. And, I believed that……for a while. If he had truly loved me, he would have educated himself on Bipolar disorder, he would not have tried to change me from the boots and jeans type of woman I am into a woman who ran around the house cleaning in high heels like some mad version of June Cleaver, he would not have tried to make me look like the women he saw in Texas (of all places; no offense meant). Had he truly loved me, he would have let me just be me. But, he didn’t. 

I think more than anything I am confused. I loved him so I did the things I thought or that he had expressed would make him happy, and I received nothing but blame, emotional and verbal abuse, and shaming in return. And, he wonders why I divorced him. Had he really wanted to, he could have changed for me, or we could have compromised. I always thought compromise is part of a relationship. At least it was in the ones I have been in before him. I am also quite confused by his present behavior. It would seem that he wants to reconcile, and he is being the person he was (for the most part) before we were married. I have no reassurances, however, that he won’t go back to the person he became and, at heart, probably still is. Why can’t this man just be normal like everyone else I have been in long term relationships with? Why the confusing gestures and mixed signals? I dissolved the marriage for a reason, and in my experience, those reasons rarely change all that much.

 

 

Anniversaries

What is it about anniversaries of significant moments in our lives; both good and bad and some that are both at the same time? Is it the mind that remembers these times? Is it our heart that keeps these dates close? Or, are these moments so engraved upon our being that we cannot seem to forget? I only wonder as I have in the past when a significant date is coming up or has passed which of these questions is the true question. Or, if they all have correct answers.

On August 29th of this year I will have been divorced for one year exactly even though the process took a couple of months. What is bothering me is how I feel about it. I feel sad, but I also feel a sense of relief, I feel failure as this is or was the only time I got married, but at the same time, I feel the divorce was successful as it restored me to a form of equilibrium, I feel freedom, but also a sense of being shackled as I now have to start the whole process all over again, and I am not the free-wheeling 20-something that I used to be. I am now a grown woman that will not settle as I used to. I have my ways of doing things that will conflict with another’s ideas about how things should work. I have much higher standards than in my college years. I know exactly what type of man I want, and I am afraid that he got away when I decided to get married to someone that I share very little with. Hence, the divorce that I initiated.

I always believed that I would get married once and only once, and so I waited until I thought the right man had come to me. I still believe that I will marry once and only once because of the trauma that relationship put both of us through, the verbal abuse (he saw it as constructive criticism), the emotional neglect has only begun to heal, to suture those gaping wounds left in my heart and my mind. 

As the date approaches, I feel more and more anxious. I am concerned that I will not meet another man like the one I knew. The man who loved me so unconditionally that he even loved my mood swings, my paranoia, my anxiety attacks, and my being prone to fatalistic thinking. He loved me with all my quirks, strengths, flaws, and craziness. Nothing could rattle this man. If I was having a bad day, he hugged me, kissed the top of my head, said nothing and left, but I felt better. I told him one time that I loved him, only once. His response was “I have loved you for a long time”. He said it once, but he meant it with all his heart and soul. We only had to say it once. It did not need to be confirmed. That we loved each other just was. It scares me to think that there may only be one man like this, only one man who fit so neatly into my heart that I loved him without question, and he loved me in return. Here comes the “what if” question; what if he was the perfect “soul mate” for me, and I for him and I lost him to marry another who was anything but?

I do not like anniversaries at all, but at least now I am old enough to have gained the wisdom that time does not heal all wounds, but it does make them bearable. However, right now, with the date looming just a a little less than a month away, I feel like a scab has been picked off and I have become a member of the walking wounded. I think I have answered my question; these dates are engraved upon our being, and as humans, we will never completely forget. Forgive, yes, forget, no. I do not believe it is our nature to forget. I hope I am wrong about that.

It All Started At Birth (Age 16 ~ This Part Is A Bit Rough) Warning: Potential Trigger

Where was I? Oh yes, my parents were waiting for me, and they were angry although not quite as pissed off as I was. However, I may have been in shock by the time I got home. All my parents had to say was the equivalent of “Where the hell have you been”? I didn’t answer. If I remember correctly I told them to fuck off, and gave them the finger as I turned around and headed down the hall to bathroom. All I wanted to do was bathe…..for hours. You would think one of my parents would have found it odd that I stayed in the bathtub until about 3 am. If I were a parent, this would worry me. I had obviously been crying, my whole demeanor had changed in a matter of an hour or so, and I told my parents to fuck off which I had never done in my life. But, life was different now. Something had been stolen from me that night that could never be replaced; my innocence, faith in people, belief that most people were decent at heart. I knew differently now. People, including my parents, were not to be trusted in any way, shape, or form. I cold not believe that my parents had yelled at me for being late especially when there was something clearly wrong; I mean, who takes a four hour bath at 10 at night. Clue number one, and they chose to ignore it. Loss of interest in school, running away, staying out all night without calling, and the beginning of my experimentation with alcohol and drugs. And, they couldn’t see anything was wrong. I never did tell them what had happened to me that night. They would not have believed me. They thought I lied all the time, and the more dramatic, the better.

I am still pissed off at them for not taking time to find out why I was late, and why I seemed so “out of it”. Parents are supposed to support and protect their kids as best as they can, and mine yelled at me for being late because I was too busy being assaulted. Something died in me that night, and it has never grown back. It has a simple name: trust. I couldn’t trust my own parents. I couldn’t trust anybody. To this day, I have this thing about being as clean as possible, and I still do not trust anyone that I do not know well. I look over my shoulder when walking down the street, I have an exaggerated startle reflex, I have infrequent (thank all the powers that be) nightmares, I always feel like I am being followed, or that everyone has an ulterior motive that is bound to hurt me. The thing that has always bothered me is that I can see the whole episode as if I am floating above it, and I can feel it in the first person. So, I have the disassociated third person view, and I have the first person view. It is pretty nifty. I didn’t repress any of the attack. It is as fresh in my mind now as it was then. This incident probably shaped who I was then more than anything else that had occurred up to that point.

Bullies at school be damned; I had just survived something far worse than bullying, and it was made so much worse by the fact that I could not count on my parents to listen. They didn’t actually find out or even believe it had happened until my therapist told them. I guess it took someone with a Ph.D. for them to truly believe, and this was about 17 years after the fact. Sad, just freaking sad on so many levels. 

As I stated earlier, This marked my initial foray into the world of what became a really bad substance abuse problem. At first, it was smoking pot on occasion with a friend of mine. Then the pot smoking became a regular thing. It helped me deal with what had happened. Like I said, I didn’t tell anyone for about 2-3 years. The only thing that was apparent was my grades fell dramatically. If I had wanted to die before, I really wanted to die now, and I really didn’t give a flying f*&^ what happened to me after that. Sexual assault is one of the most devastating events anyone can live through. It is completely different than any other form of physical violence because in a matter of minutes, your whole life and outlook change. Hitting someone is one thing, and yes, it can break a person down over a period of time. Sexual abuse makes the survivor feel dirty, ashamed, guilty, and like it was somehow their fault. And, you know intellectually these ways of thinking and feeling are not right, but your heart and soul don’t know that. So that was the opening of my 16th year on this planet. Not a good start. The “drug years” follow, but they are hazy…..very hazy….

So I Am All Tranced Out On House Music And Thinking…..

This is a “thought bubble”. It is an illustration depicting thought. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I am thinking about the impossible to know with a reasonable level of certainty. What do two people have to do or not do to make a marriage work or die a flaming death much like mine? AC/DC’s song “Shot Down in Flames” comes to mind. While I admit that the world is probably a safer place for all involved if I live alone, I wonder what it was that I obviously did or did not do. I know what my problem with the whole grown-ups behaving badly thing is/was. No need to cover old ground, or extremely tainted water under a falling bridge.

 

I realize that having a diagnosis such as Bipolar tends to knock you a little sideways, and your perceptions of yourself in relation to the world changes a bit (maybe more than a bit). However, once you have recovered your senses, and you happen to be a highly functional mentally interesting person, shouldn’t things get easier not more tedious? Yes, I flew off the handle one too many times, but once again, I wasn’t the one who could not leave my computer sometimes for days on end. I tried to communicate, but how do you communicate with someone who does not know how to communicate with you? It’s like clapping with one hand (thanks to Anthrax for that analogy).

 

What are you supposed to do with someone who has no desire to really get to know who you are apart from your interestingness, and does not seem to have any desire to learn anything substantial about Bipolar? I, upon receiving said diagnosis, went out and read everything that seemed legitimate. How can you battle that which you do not understand fully? Answer: you cannot effectively deal with any illness unless you know what you are dealing with. 

 

This was supposed to be forever, but I guess that’s a big fairy tale society tells little girls: your knight in shining armor will come and all will be sparkly and shiny and smiley and happily ever after. They lied. I think I met my knight in shining armor, and ditched him to get married to a man who turned out to be a far cry from the “face” he put on during the courtship. I am sure he feels the same about me, but I really do not know how to be anything but myself. He knew my moods weren’t completely handled, but he said, no problem, he could handle it. Apparently not. 

 

So, now I am in my early 40’s looking at starting all over again. Dating in my 30’s was not a problem because of said knight in shining armor. I never had to worry about someone to go drink beer and listen to blues bands with. He was always there for me, in all ways. What the hell was I thinking? Now, I am left to pick up the wreckage that used to be a perfectly satisfying life. I did not have self-worth problems, I did not have problems with how I looked, I did not have a problem with how feminine I was or was not. I didn’t have a problem with a lot of things. As I imagine he didn’t either. But, I wasn’t shattering his masculinity every single day. 

 

i think that I took him very much by surprise when I actually did file for divorce. I had mentioned it several times over the past couple of years, but he never thought I would actually take any action. He said everything I said was just talk and more talk, no action. Well, I guess you shouldn’t threaten me physically. I don’t cotton to that very well. I just wish I could pinpoint where it all went wrong. When I became unhappy with him and he with me. I play it over in my mind, and nothing seems to just pop out at me. I think I became upset with myself when I stopped getting mad about his Internet activities. There was no point. i was just wasting breath. I do not know, but I do not think I will try it again anytime soon. Talk about a learning experience. Never again will I allow myself to be treated like that. I am surprised I didn’t see it until the very end. After all, I grew up in an emotionally abusive family. I should have seen it for what it was and left much sooner. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so scarred. Again.

 

The Five Stages Of Grief And Loss ~ I Thought I Had Finished These

English: Emotions associated with anger (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apparently there are five stages identified by the mental health professionals to be the cycle of loss and grief. (I do not know if this is a series that implies linear psychological movement or if a person oscillates between stages)  They are in order:

1. Denial & Isolation ~ This is the stick your head in the sand and pretend nothing is happening phase. Actually, it is the first reaction to finding out very bad emotional news such as the death of a loved one, the loss of a relationship, etc. This phase allows a person to block out harmful words and to hide from the facts. It is a temporary response meant to get a person through that first wave of pain. It is not intended to last forever.
2. Anger ~ This is the phase where you point an enraged finger at everything and everyone. In reality, this phase arrives after the masking phase of denial & isolation wears off and the reality and pain of the situation reassert themselves, and we are just not quite ready for them. During this phase, we tend to deflect the most intense emotions by redirection and expression as anger. This anger can be pointed at anything or anyone. One may also feel guilty about feeling angry and become even more so.
3. Bargaining ~ The “if only” phase. Bargaining is a normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability and often represents a need to regain control. I call this the “if only” phase because a person in this phase is thinking to themselves “if only I had been a more behaved child, my parents would have stayed together” or “if only I had noticed the changes sooner, my husband would not be as ill as he is.” Basically, one is telling oneself that “if only” they had been or done x,y, and z, then everything would have turned out differently. This is a much weaker line of defense against the pain that is reality. Whatever has happened is done. There is nothing to bargain for or with at this point.
4. Depression ~ a fairly obvious stage, i would think. There are two types associated with mourning. The first is a reaction to the practical implications of the loss. Sadness and regret play a big part in this phase. It is kind of an extension of the bargaining phase in that one regrets things one has done, and experiences remorse because one is still going through the “if only’s”, but is about to come out the other side into the reality of what has happened. The second type of depression that occurs is much more subtle and perhaps, more personal in nature. This is the phase in which one is quietly preparing themselves to separate from and say goodbye to someone or something we love(d) goodbye. This is the deeply personal sorrow at one’s loss, and is uncomfortable because while one is still deeply sad, at the same time, a person is preparing to move on.
5. Acceptance ~ or in my opinion, a form of enlightenment. This is not a phase that everyone reaches. Some people may never move past denial and anger. It is not a brave and noble thing to deny the inevitable and the opportunity to make our own form of peace. This phase is very quiet and withdrawn, however, it is not a period of happiness, although it must be distinguished from depression. Coping with a personal loss is a deeply individual and singular process. No two people will grieve a loss in the same way. Nobody can help a person go through it with more ease or to understand the very personal emotions one is experiencing. The best thing one can do is to allow oneself to experience the pain when it comes because resistance will only prolong the process of healing. I call this a form of enlightenment because if one can work their way through this maze, and come out of it changed for the better and more at peace with oneself and the world around you, you have achieved a form of enlightenment, in my opinion.

i thought I had already prepared myself for the loss and grief of the death of my marriage. I had been unhappy for at least two years, apparently completely missed by my husband. I thought I had already decided the relationship was over and that I had been alone for awhile. Nope, I was really wrong. When something like a divorce is just a thought, albeit a very serious thought, one is still married. There is still hope for change if both parties are willing to put in some serious work, and both parties are willing to work on changing things their partner is really unhappy with. But, even counseling is an exercise in futility if even one person is not on the same boat. When one person feels that the other is the one who needs to do all the changing while they continue happily along with their own odious behaviors, even the most skilled therapist will not be able to effect any change in the marriage. 

That is how it seemed to me in my own relationship. I was the one who was mentally “interesting.” I was the one who got angry and yelled and threw mini-tantrums. I was the one who just couldn’t get with the program which was my husband could watch Internet porn all day, but I could not bring a male friend to the house. Apparently, I was the “only” woman who ever had any problem with his viewing porn. I had no problem with it either, just not 8 or 9 hours a day, every day. Eventually, it got to the point where I wasn’t even saying anything about it because that was a pointless way to spend breath. I just let him do it, and continue doing it, and I would periodically make unhappy grumbling noises about a divorce which he erroneously thought of as a threat or an ultimatum to get him to slow down. It wasn’t either, it was a certainty. It was just a matter of when. 

I truly have been questioning why I stayed in a relationship that so obviously emotionally and insidiously verbally abusive for so long. I am not a weak willed person, at least I did not think so. Yet, I stayed in a relationship that was incredibly abusive in the ways that leave no visible marks but eventually erodes your sense of who you are in the most basic of ways. I no longer think of myself as attractive (I couldn’t live up to the women on the Internet), I no longer think of myself as a sexy, feminine woman, I question my rationality, I question everything i once held to be true about myself. I question my worth to anyone. Hell, I question my worth to myself. I think I am moving between denial, anger, and depression. Even that I am unsure of. I cannot figure out how I could have let this happen to me other than hope springs eternal, and I thought maybe one day he would wake up and realize what I was worth to him. He knows now. 

Bouncing Brain ~ The World Looks Different Through The Lens Of Insomnia

A Love Hate Masquerade (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am tired of so many things……something has got to give and it better not be me. I just wish the world would wake up one morning and realize that while we all may hold different beliefs, lead different lifestyles, eat different food, pray to different divine beings/powers, we are all the same at the core. We all desire to be loved and happy and have friends and a sense of belonging somewhere. We all love our families and our children, and would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way. But, no, people have to be petty and put a stop to any disagreement within their ranks, sometimes with deadly, militaristic force. That’s not going to solve anything in the long run except to determine who had the better weapons and who had the better allies. I find it all frighteningly petty.

There is so much more that people could be doing than having to fight their own governments while their governments hang onto their power by using chemical agents on their own people. Even we have done it. Look at the guys who came back from Desert Storm and started showing up at clinics with mysterious ailments. There are times when I get so discouraged that anything will change because that’s just the “way it has been.” Well, why can it not be “that’s the way it was?” I think I need sleep tonight. My brain is starting to bounce, and I am starting to think aloud and on “paper,” so to speak.

I would love to set up a world-wide contest of sorts to see who could create a country with a government that not only worked, but worked for its citizens, and where diversity was completely embraced as being part of life because no matter how much you stomp your feet and scream and cry, people are going to be different than one another. Accept it, embrace it, get over it.

I am just so extraordinarily pissed off today. About everything. I just do not understand why people hurt the people they purport to love like the air they breathe. I do not understand why people form exclusive little groups and if you don’t belong, then you might as well cease to live. That is what bullying is all about. And, on the subject of bullying, does it seem more prevalent today than when you were in school (provided you have graduated college by now)? I mean, the kids can’t even escape it at home. In my day, you were bullied at school and maybe a little bit by crank phone calls. Now, these kids have iPads, smartphones, they are on the Internet for as many hours as we used to watch cartoons. They can’t escape it. It is insidious and everywhere. Why are 12 year olds committing suicide? What can be so bad in a 12 year long life that rather than struggle through it, they choose to take their lives? I wonder, because I was that kid. You know, the one that was slightly off, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. I was harassed from grade school until I left high school, and yes, I did try several times to take my life. But, I couldn’t do it. Something has kept me alive for many years for some reason that I have not figured out yet. I should be dead. I should not be sitting here letting my mind dance over the million thoughts I have in one minute of an average person’s life. I hate having Bipolar and I hate having ADD, and I hate being anxious so much of the time and I really hate the paranoia that comes with all of them, especially the bipolar and the PTSD which I hate also primarily because of the way I came to develop it. I just really do not like much of anything today. I fell off the sine wave.

So Close, Yet So Far

Legal research (Photo credit: gwilmore

My mother and I filed the final Divorce packet about two days ago. He never officially answered the summons alerting him to the Petition for Divorce action being taken against him. It was due at the Civil Relations or Domestic Relations clerk’s office 30 days after the summons and a copy of the “Lawsuit” (I guess is what it really is) were served to him. He said about 10 days after the 30 were up that he needed to get to court to file his response. I told him his 30 days was up about 2 weeks before. I do not understand this guy. He gets a traffic ticket in Los Lunas, and makes damn good and well he knows where the courthouse for that region is, and what time he needs to be there. And, he goes at the appointed time and date. What is so different about answering a Summons alerting you that your wife is leaving?

It is almost like he is a child, and if he puts his hands over his ears and eyes, it will all go away. I really do not think that he realized that I was deadly serious this time. He had said that I was all talk and no action when it came to leaving the relationship. Hmmm, I guess not. I spent about 2 weeks packing and moving, and I moved to an apartment about 10 days ago. My mom then discovered there is different paperwork to be filed in a Default Judgment scenario which is what we now have. So, with my mom helping (as a private attorney, she filed lots of Divorce cases before she moved to the City), I filed the Default Judgment packet asking the Judge to please dissolve the marriage, and return to me to my rightful name. I never did feel comfortable having taken his last name. Foreshadowing, perhaps? At any rate, those are the two things that I want: the marriage from hell dissolved, and my name returned to me. 

I do not think he knows what he did with all his passive-aggressive and narcissistic behaviour. I have taken steps backwards due to his verbal and emotional abuse and neglect. I no longer feel a sense of self-worth (if I was worthy, then he would have not been on the Internet looking at and watching porn), I no longer feel I am attractive or even the slightest bit sexy (see comment above), I have lost self-esteem (whatever that is, i know that I have lost it), I treat myself badly, I feel very unlovable and not wanted in any way, shape or form,etc. And, all he had to do to keep his marriage was get out of Pornography “fun-land”, read a damn book about my main illness, Bipolar disorder type I, and show me that I was wanted and appreciated. That is all he had to do. Instead, he did the opposite. He would claim that only three things were important to me: my mental health, my self, and my cat. He left something out. He was important to me; I loved him (or thought I did), and all I really wanted was for him to be happy, but I am now guessing he is not capable of true and lasting happiness or contentment. 

Hopefully in about 2 weeks, i will be rid of this foul and toxic relationship, I will have my name back, and I can go ahead with the work of healing and putting back together everything he undid. All those years of therapy, and this asshole wipes out about 2 years of progression towards my stable madness.