Daily Archives: July 15, 2014
Not much on the mood front today. Seems to be a lull in the crashing tides of bipolar.
Not so with the anxiety. I went to pay car insurance and for the second time in two days, someone almost smashed into my car. I hate traffic, I hate dumbass people on cell phones, and I hate my car with no muffler that drowns out everything and makes my nerves frazzled. Last thing I need is an excessive noise ticket but until R can work fixing it into his schedule, I am in limbo hell. DOES NOT WANT.
It hit me today, like a a truck slamming into me, that the reason the only really healthy relationship I have ever had is with Becca. I never put much thought into my past relationships,platonic or otherwise, because it’s simpler to either blame the other person or take all the blame to feed your own self loathing.
I came to this truth: every relationship in my life has always been at breakneck speed. I am awkward and stand offish initially but once I find my comfort zone, I just throw myself in a hundred percent. And in that action, I lose myself to the relationship’s identity, no longer having one of my own. I become the relationship. I smother those I am with. They mistake fear and insecurity and devotion with being controlled. It is not intentional, but it seems to be the ammo I need to declare, “I’m not good at relationships, this isn’t working.”
Fact is, I’ve never spent more than a couple of months with a guy before shacking up. Never more than three years before getting married. I just wait until I get comfy and I leap in. I dont’ throw caution to the wind, I push it in front of a speeding bus. And end up resentful.
Which makes sense when the biggest break up complaint is, “You’re just too high strung and moody, I can’t handle you.”
Well, I am not meant to be “handled”.
And duh, bipolar and anxiety disorder. High strung and moody kind of come hand in hand.
I’d be so much less offended if told, “You rushed me into things” or “You’re a selfish bitch”. Anything with the ring of truth, with the ring of a real complaint. But bitching about what you were warned about from the get go, because your overly confident ego made you sure you could deal with my disorders…
And it is bullshit.
At the same time…My own issues are also contributing factors and I’ve sporadically taken responsibility for this over the years by saying, “Yeah, it never works out because I don’t want to be in a relationship, it robs me of autonomy.”
It robs me because I surrender. I don’t know any other way. All in or all out. I don’t give it time to grow, I just extinguish the flames by throwing myself over it like a blanket. That’s all me. Though there is some responsibility to be shared. I can’t force anyone to do anything, they were along for the ride, too.
It makes absolute sense, though. I don’t even know these people I end up married to or living with. I don’t give it time to grow from a friendship. The awkward misfit teenage girl in me sees someone is interested and wants to coat it in polyurethane before it can escape. And if the person is pouring it on thick and feeding this insecurity, you throw yourself into even more.
Becca and I, while strictly platonic, have known each other for 12 years. We have taken the time to get to know each other intellectually. We have had years to cultivate and let things grow. To have space, to pull close, to bare our souls and erect our walls. We’ve been through the ups and downs, shared our worst times and best times. We don’t have a simple friendship. We have a grown up relationship. Companionship. Meeting of the minds.
Something I’ve never had with anyone else because I was so busy trying to hurry up and put the lightning in the bottle, I didn’t even give it time to develop like old school instant film. I assumed the picture would turn out and when I finally took the time to look, it was little more than a blur or exposed film.
I am my own worst enemy. That ostracized teenage girl in me just won’t die. I don’t want to be a misfit, I don’t want to be considered “old maid” or crazy old cat lady. And that’s why I can never get it right. It’s not just my mental issues. It’s me.
And the fact that I have such unconventional (perhaps radical) relationship views, it’s no wonder things never turn out. I’m trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, trying to assimilate when it’s the last fucking thing adult me wants. Yet that girl in me that I can’t kill off..She’s desperate for love, desperate for acceptance, even if it only lasts a couple of months before the sensation of being tied up and chained down sets in.
I don’t want the picket fence. I don’t even particularly believe in monogamy. Truth be told, aside from sex and occasional needy snuggle times, I don’t even want to share a bed with anyone. I like being on my own.
Maybe one day I will “grow up” or “assimilate properly”. Or maybe this is simply who I have become.
I don’t really want to be assimilated, though. My views may not be popular or conventional but they are mine and until I find someone who shares them, I am forever pushing the boulder uphill then wondering why it keeps rolling over me.
I have turned self sabotage into an art form.
But now that I see it for what it is, I can at least come to terms with it and make efforts to stop repeating the same mistakes.
If an extended friendship is what makes this thing with Becca work, then maybe I need to start doing that with all my relationships instead of jumping into the pool without checking to see it’s filled with water.
I probably won’t succeed.
But I’m willing to try.
Idiocy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.
Perhaps doing things differently will make the difference.
Provided my bipolar brain and paranoid anxiety will take a backseat to me working on my personality issues.
That’s hysterical. Bipolar takes second place to no one and nothing.
Apparently, the study lasted 7 years and included more than 3,000 people with Bipolar disorder in addition to co-morbid disorders which no other study had ever done. All other studies had focused on Bipolar exclusively which did not give a really good “real” life cross section of people with Bipolar disorder as it commonly occurs […]
Living in a world of chaos these days, I’m finding it challenging to stick with any one course of action longer than a bird can stay on one tree branch. There is so much to do in preparation for moving 3,000 square feet of stuff to God only knows where, and I’ve been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. I haven’t even been able to concentrate long enough to write in the past few days. Now that’s distracted.
Just this morning, I was going through a pile of stuff that Will had set out for me when I got a wild hair and decided I was going to go through my 500 or so bottles of nail polish and get rid of most of them. About halfway through that, I decided I’d better get back to weeding out the other stuff and box up what we’re not going to sell at our garage sale next weekend. (Gotta make some money somehow.) By the time I finally accomplished the thing (whee! one box filled already!) I’d forgotten about the nail polish and sat down at the computer to try and find something to write about. I’ve been trying for two days and come up with nothing, despite the fact that there’s plenty going on.
I’m not manic or even hypo, but my thoughts are racing and I feel speeded up, like I need to keep moving even though I’m not sure where I want to go or what I want to do. My baseline mood is decent, although I’ve been irritable at times, once to the point where Will made a remark about it the other day. Even writing feels pressured, as if I’m wasting time by sitting here typing when I really need to be doing something else.
I still can’t eat much, despite the fact that my UTI has cleared up and I don’t feel nauseated anymore—I just have no appetite. I get hungry, but nothing sounds good so I usually don’t bother until Will puts food under my nose and tells me to eat. The only thing I’ve eaten in over a week that tasted good at all was the tacos my daughter, Mandy, made last night. She cooks the meat with the seasonings for over two hours. It’s a long wait, but well worth it. Now, I’m back to where it’s going on 3 in the afternoon and I still haven’t eaten…..there’s just too much else to do.
In the meantime, my son Ethan is looking for places close to where he and his husband Clark live. I don’t want to move to a city, especially one that’s miles away from everything and everyone we know, but we can’t rule it out. Logic tells me that there’s more housing and more jobs up there, and Ethan may very well be right. It also doesn’t hurt my feelings that they want us near them so we can see each other more often.
Which reminds me, I’d better get back to going through that last batch of nail enamel. Think I’ll sell the good stuff at our garage sale…..young girls love that shit. It’s a small step, to be sure, but at least it’s moving forward. Even though we haven’t got the foggiest idea of where we’re going!
It’s just a link to a study I came across this afternoon, but what I have read of it is very interesting. It is the longest term study on Bipolar Disorder and treatments to date. http://www.nimh.nih.gov/funding/clinical-trials-for-researchers/practical/step-bdFiled under: Bipolar Disorder, NMIH, Study Tagged: Bipolar Disorder, Long Term Study, NMIH, treatment
So when does a cautious sense of almost-rightness turn into "feeling okay"? I'm up to full dose on the new med, and no freaky or debilitating side effects ... though my dreams are still vivid. (The last one I recounted to my husband -- involving a shipwreck, a pool game, and a recovered Civil War rifle to be delivered to safe-keeping to a school for psychics run by a former...