How Do I Know?

I was reading through some of my older posts last night, and I realized that much of what I felt then, I am feeling now.  I was being treated for bi-polar disorder then, although treatment was just beginning; so am I truly deep in a bi-polar episode?

How do you know if what you feel is validated or if it’s just a reaction to some chemical imbalance in your brain?  And even if it is a normal reaction, does having bi-polar disorder mean that I can’t cope like a normal person?

I have been taking my medication again–thankfully, my doctor’s made sure I had a spare prescription in waiting for just this type of circumstance.  I guess we’ll see.  I can’t really talk to anyone.  My husband, of course, is very angry with me.  He did come home this morning, but did not wake me at all–very unusual indeed.  Everyone else around me depends on me too much to be able to lean on them.  For now, I’ll just keep writing it out and try to figure it out as I go.

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Dangerous Places I Play

Do you ever just know that if it weren’t for certain circumstances, you’d totally end it all?  I looked at my kids tonight and a countdown clock popped into my head.  Five years until my daughter is 18.  Eight years for my son.  I know just because someone is officially an adult doesn’t mean they’re ready for life without their mother, but what if there is nothing left of the mother for them.  I know how hard it is to deal with a deteriorating parent and I don’t want that for them.  I will keep pushing on for now, dealing with the pain and the stress and the self-doubt and the pain; but I think I look forward to the day when I can go into oblivion.

Now don’t panic and call the police or anything crazy.  I’m not going to off myself tonight or tomorrow or next week.  I repeat, I am NOT in crisis at this moment.  Well, maybe I am; but I have not lost control of my faculties.

Onto the title of this post.  I played in a very dangerous place yesterday and I find myself stuck there.  The place is called the fastest way to ruin your marriage-ville.  In a moment of pure stress and frustration, I went off the rails at my husband.  Now I take full responsibility for the hurtful things I said, and I think I could even apologize if he would only acknowledge that just because I said things in the wrong way doesn’t mean there wasn’t some truth in my words.

My son is struggling.  Every day he’s loaded with homework and having emotional issues.  Yesterday my husband lost his shit and started screaming that the teachers aren’t doing their jobs, he can’t rattle his multiplication facts off the top of his head.  He started yelling that he’s not a math teacher, it’s not his job to teach him, and I went ballistic.  I’m so tired of nothing being “his job.”  Apparently, his main job is to yell at the kids until they hate him (my daughter says this frequently) and neither one want much to do with him.  He shows up for the fun stuff, just like a great weekend dad.

My temper got the better of me, and in the midst of our shouting match, I told him that he’s an absentee father.  I apparently also told him he’s just a sperm donor, although I honestly do not remember saying that.  He’s thrown it at me several times today.  He’s barely speaking to me, except for the nasty comments.

Let me be clear, I was totally out of line with my comments.  They were hurtful and unproductive.  BUT, many times, this is how I feel.  For the last year and a half, he’s been consumed with hate and bitterness because his family farm was sold.  He checked out on us, only checking back in to say it’s not his job or yell at someone.  Sorry bud, but in my opinion, helping with homework once in a while does not make you a dad.  And I use the term helping very loosely because his help usually always comes with yelling.  For a while, the kids would actually cry if they thought they had to get help from him.

Because he’s still hurt and angry today, I had to take a look at my own actions.  I didn’t like what I saw on the surface, but then I looked deeper.  I realized that part of me hates him because he checked out on us.  I hate him because he doesn’t take care of my needs.  I hate him because I feel like all of the responsibility of our family is on my shoulders.  I hate him because he makes me feel so lonely.  I hate him because he didn’t see me falling apart until I was shattered.  I hate him for not acknowledging any of this.  And I hate him because as much as I hate him, I still love him desperately, and it’s tearing me apart.

I have asked him repeatedly to go to therapy, with me or on his own.  After the loss of his farm, and his inability to deal with it, I thought he needed grief counseling.  Now I’m sure we need marriage and family counseling in the aftermath.  Not that it matters because as angry as he is, I’m not sure he’s coming home tomorrow.  I don’t know if we can fix it.

So I don’t know how to find my way out of the fastest way to ruin your marriage-ville, but I do know it’s a very dangerous place to play.

I’m Breaking

It’s been a long time.  I had been doing so well.  My therapist released me, I was eventually stable enough to go off my meds, and I was seeing success.  In the last several years, I’ve published two novels and opened my own business.  I thought I had closed the chapter of my life where I needed this blog.

I was wrong!

Right now, I feel like a piece of glass with a crack running through it, ready to shatter with the slightest wrong touch.  I feel alone, isolated.  Everyone depends on me for…well for everything, and I’m buckling under the weight of it all.  I just want everyone to leave me alone for a while, to let me wallow and then get over it.

I feel like a failure in everything I do.  I don’t know why anyone would listen to me for anything.  I haven’t released the third novel in the series, even though it’s been written for over a year.  My business is floundering and I don’t know if it can hold on until business picks up again.  My son was diagnosed with Asperger’s this year and we’re struggling to help him survive school.  My daughter has entered puberty and everything is a drama.  My husband has had losses in his life and has been unbearable to live with.  And I just feel like I’m alone at the bottom of a dogpile with more and more weight being added each second.

I just want it all to stop.