I Need To Write But……

Swirling thoughts (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

my brain feels stuck. Ever have so much running through your head that you have to get it out or you’ll most certainly go crazy, but you just have no idea where to start. I mean stream of consciousness writing is fine for your journal, but it doesn’t work well when you want people to be able to follow your thought process. I think this is the natural offshoot of a draft I started called “Marriage Counseling Round Three” that I never finished. It is finished now. 

Round Three of marriage counseling culminated in my being so angry and upset and frustrated with the fact that I had just sat there for another hour listening to how everything that is wrong with my marriage is due to my having Bipolar disorder (among several others that just exacerbate it, namely PTSD, but that’s a whole other post). It is not our marriage. It is my marriage like I own it as a possession. Last I looked marriage was defined by the union of two, not one, persons. Anyway, we stopped at Walmart on the way home, and not really wanting to deal with Walmart in my current state of mind which, at the time, was rather antisocial. Funny how listening to everything being your fault can do that to you. Especially, if it is a recurring theme. Anyway, I opted to stay in the car while husband went to buy juice and some other item. “I’ll be right out,” he says. An hour and a half later, I was handing the keys to the car to him wordlessly and heading for the bus stop. I didn’t really mean to stay out until 3:30 in the morning, but maybe I did. I know I wanted nothing to do with him or being around him or feeling trapped in the house. So, maybe I intentionally stayed out that late. 

I get home, and he is mad. Probably rightfully so. I told him that i had stopped by a dive blues bar that I used to go to with a really good friend, and that they had a band that night. He said he had tried to call several times but I did not answer. Ever tried to hear your cell ringing when a band is onstage tearing it up? You can’t. So, here’s part of where my brain gets stuck. He spent an entire hour telling what essentially amounted to lies to the therapist (he slickly left out his own predeliction to shopping when upset or just bored), and blamed our entire financial situation on my having Bipolar disorder. I can honestly say that, yes, having Bipolar disorder does sometimes make handling finances a bit tricky. However, I have managed for 22 years to keep a roof over my head, bills close to paid, and food in the fridge. Granted, I don’t have a stellar credit rating, but that may be a blessing in disguise.

Anyway, here he is telling me how he had gone out looking for me, and drove around for a couple of hours and called and yadda-yadda-ya. All this after spending an hour telling the therapist how essentially everything was my fault which is the same tune he sang a the previous two sessions. So, now my brain is trying it’s broken best to process this conflicting information and coming up with nothing. It’s like a seized engine. 

The relationship between us has been declining fairly rapidly over the past 6 or 7 months. He is sleeping on the sofa, refuses to sleep in the bed, no “marital” relations, you know, all the precursors for divorce. All of this also contains two fairly “feisty” arguments, one of which left me feeling so much rage after being yelled and cursed at for an hour that I had to take my night time meds and go to sleep rather than remain awake and prone to who knows what. Although, when I am that angry, I tend towards a sort of homicidal calmness that freaks even me out. I don’t curse, I do not raise my voice, I simply say exactly what I am thinking in no uncertain terms, and that can be a little much sometimes. I never claimed I was the vision of perfection. I am simply a person trying to manage life with several rather debilitating and chronic and potentially dangerous (to myself) diagnoses. 

Well, last night, I ended up bringing a friend home so he could just chill out for awhile in a relatively calm environment. Note: the friend was a guy. So, we kick back for a while and read the Craig’s List personals to amuse ourselves (they are amusing). Then about 12 am, I set off to take him home where he and his girlfriend commence their argument that was the reason he left in the first place. I didn’t think anything about bringing a FRIEND over. But, apparently, husband took it as I was cheating on him by bringing this male friend over and then hanging out at his house while he gathered some stuff and getting a motel room. When I got home, I sure as hell wished I had the money for a motel room. I was Jezebel for bringing another male into the house. I had disrespected the house, disrespected him, disrespected everything holy.

He said it was a good thing we had no lethal weapons in the house. That type of statement does not have a good effect on me. Inferring that you may or may not try to physically hurt me sets off a whole host of triggers; the strongest of which is self-preservation at all costs. I have already been assaulted and been in a physically abusive relationship. I do believe they call what I have as a result of those experiences in my youth PTSD. Any mention that you may be about to hurt me makes me defensive and ready to go an the attack because I will never be hurt physically again. I made my mind up about that a long time ago. So, we get into “feisty” conversation number two in the same number of weeks leaving me determined to end this whole debacle once and for all. It didn’t even occur to me to sleep on it, and maybe things would be better in the morning because I already knew they wouldn’t. Besides, now I have been physically threatened. Now it is a given. I am leaving. Staying and trying to work it out is no longer an option. He has threatened my life in a round about way. 

The main reason my brain is stuck is that I have never once accused him of cheating even though he would get all dressed up just to go run errands that took him 8 hours. The same errands took me about 2 hours. Where was he for those extra 6 hours? And he has the utter nerve to threaten me. No. Divorce proceedings will be initiated at the end of this week. He killed what was left of his marriage last night. I have had it with the constant barrage of well meaning remarks, had enough of being told that I am the problem, that because I have mental issues I am not worthy enough, that I had no life before him, that everything I do is not quite good enough, and lastly, being told that it was a good thing there are no lethal weapons in the house. You do not threaten me like that. You just do not. So, that’s the culmination of Marriage Counseling Round Three. Divorce. Sometimes you have to protect yourself.

 

Not So Sure About This Marriage Counseling Thing

A couple of 14-carat gold wedding rings. Picture taken in Brazil, where 14-carat is the most common kind of gold used in jewelry. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I came out of that counselor’s office so angry the other day, I thought I was going to break something, so I went for a bike ride instead. I can easily see this type of counseling making me relapse. It was so confrontational and stressful that I ended up triggered which is not a good sign. This would be why managing my illnesses is of utmost importance. Especially the bipolar disorder, because if it is going to be like this every time, i am going to end up in the hospital. I do not think that my husband really understands that when he indicates that in order of importance I care first about my illness, then my cats, then him. Of course I am going to care about my illness first. If I do not care about it above all else, I decompensate and become ill.

My becoming ill again is not productive for the relationship. We cannot have a relationship if I do not manage my bipolar first above everything else. And as far as the cats go, I feed them, clean their litter box, make sure they have water, and give them a little attention. That’s not making them more important to me than he is; it is responsible pet ownership. I would really like to know how often he cleans, makes dinner, fixes morning coffee; these are all things I do for him and for myself. I don’t see how his never having anything else to do but play on the computer, and take care of his plants is putting him third. If anything, he comes first then managing my illness. I wish he would take up reading books, then maybe he might have a better idea about how this illness functions. I have even ordered a new one geared toward both the ill person and the family of the ill person. I keep trying and hoping. Hope does spring eternal, unfortunately. We’ll see how this goes. The minute I find my self sliding down the rabbit hole to have tea with the Mad Hatter is the day I quit. Stress is a huge trigger for me, and this is the most stressful thing I have ever done. I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes. I will try to be more open about the process, but that doesn’t mean I am not going to get mad about some stuff.

Starting Marriage Counseling Today

We are finally about to start marriage counseling today. I really do not know how I feel about this. I am very apprehensive about the whole endeavor because he has this tendency to blame everything on me. Like he walks on water. Everything that is wrong with the marriage is my fault because I am mentally ill, therefore, everything must be my fault. What he doesn’t understand is that his own problem with depression makes me sicker. He withdraws into this dark world of Internet porn, and he thinks that’s okay. When in reality, he is paying no attention to me whatsoever, and he won’t have sex with me, half the time he won’t sleep in the same bed with me, and somehow, I am supposed to okay with all of this. He spends his time watching other women fuck (pardon my french), he spends his time looking at pictures of other women naked. And I am supposed to be okay with this? He has no idea how rejected I feel, how ugly and undesirable this all makes me feel, and quire frankly, I do not think he really cares about how I feel about anything because he just continues to do it. Yesterday, he spent the entire day on the porn sites. And, somehow, I am still supposed to feel wanted? He is an asshole if he thinks that is all okay for him to do. He claims he loves me, yet his actions are completely separate from his words. If he truly loved me, he would quit the Internet porn thing, because he knows how I feel about it. And he claims it all about trust, he trusts that I am not doing anything online, so I should trust that he is not either, but how am I supposed to do that when he is looking at the base asses of other women. It is no different from cheating on me because he obviously derives some gratification from it, or he wouldn’t do it.

Well marriage counseling went swimmingly. I am apparently a superficial bitch who thinks of illness first, my cats second, and my husband third. Anytime I try to empathize with his situation whatever it may be, he says I come across to him as shallow and superficial. In other words, a stuck up bitch. All I am trying to fucking do is let him know that I do understand he feels bad about something. I am not trying be some fucking psychic who knows all. Pissed me clean the fuck off. 

One thing the therapist did point out was that my husband spent twice as long explaining his concerns as I did. Basically he dominated the conversation. He talked for like twenty minutes about how he thinks I am saving money to move. Now, i f I wanted to move, I would talk to my mother about staying with her for a couple of months until I had enough money to move out, get my stuff out of storage and I would be gone like the wind. Simple as that. No conspiratorial hoarding of money, no reason why I am constantly broke except I cover about $500 worth of bills and my rent $464. Which actually comes to more than I make in a month. I do not know where the fuck he got this idea that I am going to abandon him and leave him high and dry. I am not that kind of person. Why the hell would I have made a commitment to hearing all about what a bitch I am that thinks only of herself and not other people, and how I need to fix this, that, and the other thing about myself. 

I understand he feels isolated, but he just doesn’t wake up early enough to come with me to meetings, or out to see people. I understand his car is in bad shape. I had no car for 2.5 years. Finally bought one, and it nickeled and dimed me to death so I stopped driving it for like 7 years and rode a bicycle. I took the bus,and  fucking walked evrywhere. So, yeah, when I  TRY to empathize with his car problem. Been there, done that. For many years. I am just going to stop trying to support him, because it obviously is not what he wants. Or thinks he doesn’t realize he needs.

I give the fuck up! I am so tired of his habits, but I am not supposed to take my bipolar seriously? FUCK HIM!!!!

P.S. Sorry for the language in this post. I am really angry, and trying to deal with it with out going off on him.

Life Used To Be Simpler

My life used to be simple. I woke up, had some coffee then grabbed my bike and headed off for school. During the time when only my fiancé was working and I

mountain bike in downhill race in forest ski trail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

was going to school, I used to mountain bike every morning without fail. I always went out between 9 am and 11 am (I am fair skinned, and the sun is still low enough in the sky that you won’t get burned as badly). Nothing beats the thrill of coming down that bitch of a hill that killed your legs going up. Especially if it is winding. It seems that I have always felt better on a bike.

I remember one ride where I actually hit the “zone” that athletes are always talking about. My then fiancé and I were up in the mountains and it started to storm quite seriously. I am talking about lightning and thunder at the same time. That’s how close the lightning was to us, and all I could think about was getting the heck out of there because my bike is made of carbon fiber. Carbon fiber is an electrical super conductor. So, I just started to haul ass out of there. I wasn’t into getting fried that day. It was the most amazing ride. I was one with the bike (which never happened),  I was not thinking about how I was going to make a turn or over a log, I just found a way, and it worked. All I was really thinking about was, OMG mountain storm! Get out now! I think it was my favorite ride ever. I wish it were possible to use words to describe the experience of riding your bike through the mountains with all this lightning and thunder and hail and rain. It is one of the most exhilarating thing ever, And yes, it even beat sex.

Life was just so much simpler in those times. I was happy, I was in school and doing well, I was in love, and I had a great best friend that I used to go to the mountains with after school was out. He and I were like little kids, we explored everything that looked like it might be a trail. We were joined at the hip. If one of us showed up somewhere, it was a safe bet the other was not far behind. The sun is coming up, and the sky is turning pink. It is beautiful.

Anyway, this was long before the “diagnosis” and the medication-go-round that I ended up on. This was long before I got married which I am still trying to decide if that was big mistake or not. I love my husband, please do not get me wrong, it is just sometimes he can be incredibly difficult to deal with. He doesn’t seem to want to learn about what bipolar really is; he’d prefer to rely on his past 2 experiences with bipolar women, and both were total tramps. One was a “I’ll try anything once” type, the other one just cheated on him a lot. And neither one of them would stay on their medication so they were constantly going up and down. I, on the other hand, am medication compliant, and actually start to freak out when I have run out of medication because I know what happens when I do. It is simple, take your meds, and the mood swings will be closer to those that normal people have. It really isn’t rocket science nor does it require an advanced degree in physics.

What I think is that he cannot face his own depression. He has never received treatment for it until now when we finally reach a point where marriage counseling has become necessary, and they have a treatment plan that has us doing marriage counseling every two weeks and him doing one on one therapy every two weeks. He says that he has looked at himself and knows who and what he is. Therapy will fix that. Therapy forces you to look at yourself in a new light. He is going to finally have to confront the ugly in his nature. At least he will if he is honest with himself and the therapist. If he isn’t then therapy will do him no good. Therapy can be very scary. You will have to talk about things that you have buried so deeply it can take years to work your way through the maze of emotions surrounding the issue. I do not think he gets that. I have been in therapy for about 8 1/2 years, but I had some very dark things I had to take care of. I remember one session where I spent the entire session in a fetal ball (this was a few years ago). Something had triggered me. That’s another thing he needs to learn about: triggers. Once you can recognize them, you can control how you react to them, or at the very least manage not to let them set you off.

I swear life used to be so simple.

Whose Depression?

Depression (emotion ) (Photo credit: Andreas-photography)

As you know if you have been following this blog, my husband and I are having dome difficulties in our marriage. We have not been talking to each other, and when we do, it almost always turns into a fight regarding my diagnosis of Bipolar I. Some how, I always get blamed for the problems in our marriage because I am officially diagnosed as mentally ill. The key part of that sentence is “I am officially diagnosed” where as he is not.

So, we’re going to be doing couple’s therapy, because neither one of us really wants to throw in the towel, and admit defeat. Besides, how can you admit defeat in a battle you’ve never fought; you can’t. So, marriage counseling. I was being nosy the other day, the papers were in plain view, so it wasn’t like I had to move boxes to see this weird little tidbit of information. He had reported to the counselor that it was “difficult to live with someone who is always depressed.” I thought that was an interesting comment. Especially since I am not always depressed, bored maybe, but rarely truly depressed. If I am, there are a whole bunch of red flags: not bathing, not changing my PJs, not getting out of bed, hyper somnolence, not washing my hair, no makeup, letting my manicure go. Like I said a whole lot of red flags that I am becoming or am already depressed.

With that having been said, I believe that my husband suffers from uni-polar depression. He is withdrawn, stays to himself, grunts when talked to, is constantly talking about making determinations and then taking action on them. I do not see him doing this at all. He spends all day, everyday on his computer. He will not admit to being depressed (a good sign that someone is). Fortunately, is the process of getting to marriage counseling, he is receiving one on one therapy which he is to continue even after we start marriage counseling (I have my own doctors). All of this is great, but his comment about it being difficult to live with some one who is depressed all the time just begs the question: Whose depression is hard to live with, his or mine?

Especially, considering I am on to very effective mood stabilzers, an anti-anxiety medication, medication for ADD, and an anti-depressant. That my sound like a lot, but believe me, my arsenal is much smaller than a lot of people with Bipolar. My psych believes in only as much medication is needed. So, I am finely tuned, I do not get manic, I do not really get depressed. I surf a low frequency sine wave. I have ups and downs just like everyone else, I have good and bad days just like everyone else. 

All of which leads me back to my original question: Whose depression? Because it’s not mine.