last week at its best

last week was by far the worst week in the history of our relationship. since starting a new med and reducing the one i've been on for years, i've been slightly unstable. last week i was so down for 4 days straight. i couldn't get out of bed, and if i did i snapped on kids, cried nonstop, and didn't leave the house. i didn't shower, or change clothes, or get off the couch or out of bed. i can't even tell you how many times i broke down in tears over nothing.

the kids were miserable and so was mark who had to work a lot. the girls kept asking what was wrong and if i was mad at them. eventually they just told me to 'feel better' on a regular basis. i put aidan to bed one night and he broke down sobbing and said to me, "i'm sorry i've been such a bad boy and have made you so sad". i broke down too and assured him it wasn't him. i felt so terrible for the way i treated them, but i couldn't control myself. usually on my bad days i can be strong and fight it. not last week. i literally couldn't function.

then, on the fifth day, i woke up feeling invincible. i hopped out of bed, made coffee, sent kids off to school, and by 8:30 i was jamming to my music turned all the way up and started cleaning all the ceiling fans. then i scrubbed baseboards and painted them. then i took off two doors and 4 doorknobs and painted them. i wrote silly notes to the kids, and greeted them happily when they came home. when mark got home at 5 exhausted from the day, i wore him out talking 90 miles an hour until dinner time.

we sat down to eat and i started feeling angry. uncontrollable anger. i wanted to scream at everyone and tell them to shut the hell up. i wanted to go outside and smoke a pack of cigarettes. i wanted to pick a fight. i ended up with a panic attack, and feeling suicidal. the night ended with me in tears to the point of physical pain in mark's arms.

the next day i was back to feeling miserable. mark begged me to call the doctor. he had been asking me to do it for days, but i had an appointment on friday (today) and figured all they'd tell me to do is wait until i came in. but i called. the doctor told me to come in and pick up a sample of abilify, explaining that it was quick acting, and would act as a bridge until these new meds even out. i drove downtown right then and took it on the way home.

within 48 hours i felt better. driving to the gym on thursday morning, i told mark "i actually feel a little better today, but really don't want to jinx it". that afternoon i was tolerant of kids, we had a pleasant dinner, and a good family time. after the kids were in bed, mark praised me over and over thanking me profusely for how well the day went. i can only imagine the relief he felt.

today was my appointment. i met with the actual psychiatrist. i told him about my week. he listened and asked me several questions. i felt like he truly cared, which was something i wasn't expecting out of a guy who is one of a few in his specialty. he told me to cold turkey quit the prozac, doubled my dose of lamictal, and gave me almost a thousand, yes a thousand, dollars of samples of abilify. he said that hopefully the abilify would be temporary. out of pocket, it's $450 for a months worth of the lowest dose.

i walked out feeling unbelievably thankful and blessed. not in the thank-you-god blessed, because god had nothing to do with this. science and technology are to thank. and the generosity of my parents. mark and i went into downtown nashville and found a patio to sit on for lunch. we people watched, and enjoyed the PERFECT weather. today was GOOD. i am hopeful.

and kudos to mark, who has dutifully put up with this bullshit. he's never dealt with anyone with a mental disorder. he's a champ. thank you for staying by my side through thick and thin, i owe you everything. i love you. 

day 25

today is day 25 of the new medication. i was doing really well for the first 14 days, but these last 11 have really hurt. i really need this shit to even out. my moods and feelings are all over the place and it's wearing on me. i miss my parents. i miss my friends. i'm sick of crying. stupid stupid stupid.

unmedicated

welcome to my life. the life of a bipolar, crazy, unmedicated woman. the blog is public again because i've vowed to attempt to keep my bitter rantings out of it. that's not why i created this blog. ((don't worry, i saved all of your email addresses for when i decide to recoil and make it private again...)) ya never know.

i've been off my meds completely for 2 weeks now. lemme tell ya, it's not a pretty thing. i have an appointment with an md/psychiatrist who specializes in mood disorders. i've been on the waiting list for 2 months now, and they called the other day to push it back another 10 days. august 10th. d-day. i am going in armed with 8 years' worth of medications, treatments, and other failed methods (aka church, prayer, etc). mark and the kids couldn't be more ready for this change. ((no the kids don't know about my doctor visit, medications, or gory details of my disease)) they're ready, they just don't know how ready they are. mark is ready and DOES know how ready he is. poor bastard deserves a trophy at this rate. or maybe just a 'normal' partner. yeah. that would probably be best.

i have only my parents' support and love to thank for this amazing opportunity. as i filter through the issues in my past i've had with them, as angry as i may get, i always break down in mark's arms begging for my parents. i miss them and they truly are so dear to my heart. they are me. i am them. i miss them. i love them deeply. if i keep writing about them, i'll cry. and i swore i wouldn't cry tonight.

so what's it like being off medication? oh you know. piece of cake. i don't get out of bed before noon, i lay in bed staring at the ceiling for hours at a time, the kids run out of milk for their cereal, i cry while begging my son to just.leave.me.alone. i resist the urge to find that long lost razor blade, just to prove i'm alive and that i can feel. i focus on how dusty the house is, or how dirty the curtains are, or how empty the walls are and busy myself cleaning, projecting, and crafting.

i make a strong drink when i'm ready for sleep, because if i don't, i won't. my brain spins all day and night. why am i here? what good am i? why is this the hand i've been dealt? why can't i just grab the kids and love on them like i want? why can't i get out of bed? why can't i just feel something? anything? besides guilt, anger, and hatred for myself. i'm spunky! i'm fun! i'm cheerful...for fucks sake my name means 'cheerful hope'! and i so am. i SO am. it's in there, but i can't get it out. it burns through me. i sit there staring at my messy pile of shoes and clothes on my side of the closet while i hold one of mark's worn shirts, sobbing into it just waiting to feel normal. to feel different. 'cry it out' is not something i can do anymore, not unmedicated.

this is my life. this is me. all i can do is embrace it. fight it. fix it. this is my cancer, my sickness. this is mine to deal with in this life. not mark's, not my five kids' issue. mine. a weaker person would have crumbled by now, right?

oh but i feel so weak. i'm getting through my days minute by minute. sometimes, second by second. but i claw through them. because i'm stubborn. because this damned thing is not going to take me over. because i'm better, stronger, and way fucking more awesome than this.

this internal struggle is absolutely exhausting. some days i don't come out as on top as i'd hoped, but i haven't given up yet. and i won't. i'm so close. maybe one day this will be a blessing. i know myself internally more intimately than i ever knew someone could. that sounds weird. but everything i do is so spontaneously calculated. so randomly explained. to me. i know me. more than anyone ever ever will. when i have mood snaps, i know why. i know what caused it. i know how to counter it. i just don't know how to make others understand it. i don't always have the strength to control it, but i know it.

i truly love my life. i just can't wait to fully live this life that i love. and to show the people closest to me just how amazing it all is. soon, soon.

this is my therapy. thank you all for the love and support.

love love love.

preoccupied update

last weekend went so much better than i expected. our date night was fabulous. we spent it on the patio of our favorite mexican restaurant with 3 or 4 pitchers of margaritas, people judging watching, laughs, and plenty of flirtatious giggles. we came home and thoroughly enjoyed our quiet and empty home. then made it not so quiet. we ended up staying up most of the night, then got to sleep in a little before headed to his parents' for brunch and coffee. the cinco de mayo neighborhood party was a blast, and we loved getting to meet new friends. plus, get togethers like that remind me how thankful i am for our kiddos. they're such well behaved and sweet little humans. i don't miss the screaming toddler stage.

mark started his second job on monday. he has clocked 106 hours so far this week between the two. needless to say, i fucking miss him. on the same hand, i'm so so so thankful for his willingness and ability to work. he has always been such a hard worker. i have no intentions of running him into the ground with it all as previous situations have, instead i am inspired to be better every minute. it's because of him i don't have to work at some job i hate. it's because of his trust and love that he has put me in charge of our home, our kids, and our finances.

i won't lie, it's an art form to get our bills paid and checkbook balanced every month, but this new job will really give us some much needed breathing room for the summer. we can go on vacation, enjoy ourselves, and spoil the kids. then in august i'm getting a full time job. growing up sucks. but i've got to do it. poor mark is driving my piece of shit car (wait, i'm sorry, HIS piece-of-shit-car-that-i-signed-over-to-him-for-the-firefighter-tags-that-get-us-out-of-having-to-get-it-inspected) that is bound to blow up any day now, while i get to drive his pretty, shiny, new, tahoe.

what a wonderful man he is. what a lucky gal i am.

there's a comfort in the rain only lovers know...
...give me your forever...please your forever...not a day less will do...from you...
what a coincidence this song is playing as i write this. talk about tears running down my face as fast as i can get the words out...god this man owns my heart.

***********

my sleep hasn't improved. at all. dream after dream after nightmare after nightmare. always so vivid, i would love to capture them in video to show the world how fucked up my brain is. it's so creatively brilliant but so hideous at the same time. sometimes i think if i could just sleep right, sleep well, through the night, that half my internal struggle would be ended. i don't remember my last "black" sleep. not sure if i've even experienced that ever. as far back as i can remember, it's been light sleep filled with vivid and terrifying dreams. i've never done a sleep study, i'd be interested to see how much i'm 'awake' during the night.

yesterday and today i've been productive (by my standards) and it's been amazing. well today, i did go back to bed until 10, but that's better than noon, right? mark has been working every minute, so i've had so much more 'home' responsibilities put on me (ones that i should have always carried, probably, but didn't). it gives me a feeling of accomplishment that i rarely feel, to know i went grocery shopping, got the laundry done, and the house cleaned all in one day. that's like a week's worth of shit right there. my poor OCD lover doesn't appreciate my side of the closet, or the spot of tile in our bathroom that houses my dirty clothes of the day. but i've washed sheets, the puppy, kitchen floors, made lunches, and successfully put on dinner for 6 night after night. which sounds minimal, but it's so huge for me.

i'm always so tired. so unmotivated. but to see him working so fucking hard for this family makes me force myself (more easily than i thought) to put in effort to pick up his slack (which isn't slack...it's him picking up my slack..). somehow, at the end of each day, it's all done. the kids are all fed, clothed, clean, and happy. we may be exhausted mentally and physically, but it's worth it for the nights when all 7 of us get to cuddle on the couch while each baby fights for prime real estate next to us, the pup asleep on the end of the couch, and we try to keep our eyes open so the kids can drill us with questions. that's what it's all about.

i'm exhausted. i want to cry, laugh, scream, sleep, and dance all at once.

i love my life. fucked up as it may be sometimes. i love it.

what i wouldn't give...

what i wouldn't give just to forget
what i wouldn't give to get some rest
so i can remember how to live again
i just wanna live again
-holly brook

woke up this morning unsure of my ability to survive the day. i scurried the kids off to school and asked boy child three to go upstairs and watch some tv for awhile. he asked if it was because i had a headache, i said yes. he hugged my neck and told me to feel better and disappeared up the stairs. this isn't my first 'headache', not by far. so i crawled back into bed, pulling all the pillows up over my head, and fell asleep with tears running down my face.

i tossed and turned with the ever vivid dreams of torture, doom, and impossible situations that push me to my emotional and physical limits. i woke up sweating and tense over and over. i finally dragged myself out of bed at noon.

i could go on and tell how the rest of the day went, but i'm sure you can pretty much assume. i hate this fight, this battle that exists inside me every second. my kids need me, my lover needs me. my house, my yard, and my responsibilities need me. i've got to push past it. but i'm so exhausted.

today sucked.

i have been looking forward to this weekend all week, but now i'm afraid i'll ruin it all. mark's mom has offered to take the kids tomorrow so we can have a night alone, especially since he starts a new job on monday. i've never not needed a date night. then saturday we get to sleep in, go get the kids, and enjoy our annual neighborhood block party/cinco de mayo celebration saturday night. i just hope i can muster the strength to pull myself out of this pit by tomorrow. i feel like my feet are trapped in sand, like i'm carrying a pack of bricks on my back, like i could sleep for a week, but my head won't stop spinning. thinking. obsessing. guilting. being filled with anger.

oh what i wouldn't give to just forget.
to get some rest.
to be fucking normal.

endlessly

today started out as a bad day.

mark was up at 5:15 getting ready for work, and out the door by 6:30. he came in to say goodbye to me and i was laying there awake. he knew something was wrong and asked if i was having a bad day, to which i shrugged. he sighed a heavy and long sigh and went to work. i sent him a text at 7:06 that read, 'i can't get out of bed'. i layed there, mind racing, body rested and ready for the day, but mentally unwilling to move.

i forced my mind to allow my body to move and sloppily rolled out of bed, pulled on the shirt and boxers mark had worn the night before. it gives me such comfort to smell him so close to me. i greeted the kids and bronx then flopped on the couch and pulled the blanket up to my eyes. girl child two asked if i had a headache, to which i simply shook my head yes. boy child three brought me a hot cup of coffee and snuggled up next to me with his mis-matched pj's and goofy spongebob slippers. i fed the boys breakfast and shooed them upstairs to play until school.

i blankly stared at the morning news, not absorbing a word of it. i sipped my coffee and kept checking my phone to see how many minutes until i could send the three school going kids outside to wait for the bus. i called them down, hugged and kissed them, and sent them out. i sent the boy in spongebob slippers upstairs to watch netflix and told him i'd be napping if he needed me. i put the pup in his kennel next to my bed and had the big puffy white comforter up over my head by the time the bus pulled up to our house.

i let my mind wander and spin until i dozed off. i dreamt my usual vivid and bizarre dreams. no bad dreams this morning, just dreams of finding money unexpectedly. i usually dream of proposals, and carefree, quiet, precious time with my lover. it's either that or demons, blood thirsty murderers ready to slice my body, being separated from my kids, drowning in deep murky water, or rape and humiliation. i understand why i have the good ones, because those truly are my dreams. the bad ones are just torments from my blessing of a cursed creative mind that always has a dark undertone.

my body and mind passed in and out of sleep while i listened to the same song on repeat. this week it's endlessly by green river ordinance. i've never been so enamoured with another human being. i love him with every cell in my body and every ounce of my heart. he is the days i can't get over, he is the nights that i call home, endlessly, for him i'll always wait.

i got up around 11 and headed outside to look at my flowers. they're blooming so beautifully and i absolutely love watching my yard come to life day by day. i got dressed, and got out of the house. before i knew it, kids were coming home from school and i had a million things to do before dinner. i managed to get them all done, and settled down with my girls to watch how to lose a guy in 10 days with a glass of wine and my projects laid all over the floor, and had to blink a few times to remember that this dream of a life is mine. how lucky am i?! i got everyone cuddled in bed and can't wait to do the same.

today was a victory. it started at 7:06am with my desperate text expressing the darkness of my state of mind, it started with me looking down the barrel of a tuesday with mark at work and several tasks to fulfill. for a second or two i wondered if i'd make it. it's now 9:50pm, and i've had a good day. i've managed to turn it around. i'm mentally exhausted from going round and round with myself, i'm physically exhausted from forced activity, but i'm smiling. i'm looking forward to a new day tomorrow. and that's all that matters. living with this disease is crippling and an absolute battle daily, but i still come out swinging. i love my family, i love my life.

love.
love.
love.

up down up down up down

up down up down up down. this week has been up and down more times than i can even attempt to count.

body-wise: mark and i started a new diet, and started taking hcg injections. i can't wait to reveal the finished product to yall complete with before and after photos, diet details, and if i end up cheating, i swear i'll be honest and tell you. we started the injections a week ago tomorrow. so in this loooong six days, mark has lost 14lbs (screw men, right?!) and i've lost 4lbs. BUT i will say i've seen a gigantic change in my inches! hello size 2 daisy dukes ;) sadly, though, that means goodbye c cup boobs. oh well. those can be replaced. i will say, the hardest thing so far is a tie between saturday and yesterday. saturday mark was working and the kids decided to race to see who could make me cry first, and i had to resist the intense urge to chug some tequila. yesterday i was absolutely ravenous and i had to go to walmart to get peanut butter. i had to walk by the cupcakes, the bread, the fruit, and the chips. then stand in a line for 20 minutes staring at twix bars and dr pepper. i even wanted to gnaw at the screaming child in the cart behind me. but i didn't. i came home and drank even MORE water. so pat on the back for me. i'm turning down liquor, twix, and dr pepper. that's how bad i want to look good naked. mark says so far so good. :)

hair-wise: well a few weeks ago i thought, "hey! i'm gonna go to great clips and get a trim...they can't mess it up that bad, right? plus it'll cost $10 instead of $40!" wrong. wrong, oh so wrong. pretty sure i told her what i wanted, and she did the complete opposite while telling me her life story including how she should just quit her job and get on state benefits because her ex is a deadbeat. i just kind of looked at her and agreed every once in a while, all the while cringing and ready to bolt. there was no saving my hair at that point. disappointed and pissed at my hack job, i thought; "what the hell?! lets bleach it for the summer! how much worse could it get?" worse. oh so worse. it turned orange. which i knew would happen. i'm not sure why i even attempted it. once again, trying to save that money! i managed to get it to a brownish mustardish color, and have left it alone since then. i've spent the past few weeks hating the mirror, sleeping in conditioning masks, and using zero heat on it. today, it will be chopped and hopefully put back to a normal color. life lesson number 5,632,964. just pay the money for the hair.

parenting-wise: i'll just start at the top and go down. girl child one will be twelve in less than 2 weeks. which means she's starting to test out this new found attitude she's found somewhere deep within herself. we had a stand off, over the condition of her hair of all things, on sunday. and there she sat, arms crossed, teeth gritted, eyes burning holes in her toes hoping we'd disappear. oh yes, i remember that feeling. we won, but i have a feeling we'll have quite a few of these stand offs in the next several years. i was so grateful when i had boys, because i knew if i had a girl i was in for it. i'd be cursed for all the shit i did to my parents when i was a teenager. (and i mean the NORMAL teenage shit. like attitude, slamming doors, sneaking out...not the other and completely abnormal teenage shit that cost me one family. like sex, pregnancy, and for-the-love trying to right all my wrongs. that's abnormal behavior, yall.) anyway, i thought i was in the clear. instead, i got the fast track to teenage daughter parenting. and in this case, i'm not just the step mom.

girl child two is 9 going on 19. no attitude in sight. thank god. i do appreciate the fuzzy legs and bruised shins that remind me she's not about to go jump in my truck and drive off to meet her BFFs.

as far as the boys go, they pretty much go from terrorizing us to being the cutest and sweetest little boys ever. up down up down. i love them all, but dammit. this parenting stuff doesn't quit, does it?!

up down up down up down.

spent an hour folded up in my lovers arms two nights ago crying and sobbing. he held me and let me be angry, sad, full of emotion, hopeless, and empty all at the same time. he wiped away my tears and just held me. that's all i needed. he's learned not to ask what's wrong, because i never know. i just know how i feel. and there's hardly any logical explanations for how you feel. especially when it's so up down up down up down.

this disease isn't fair. it takes from my happiness. it steals me from my lover. it hides me from my children. i've learned it's tricks, it's games. i've learned the signs, even the smallest hints of an attack. not sure if that's better or worse than not knowing, not sensing.

i can never (anymore) say, "i don't know what hit me, i don't know why i did that, i don't know what came over me." i do know, and i see it coming. so i brace, and i plant my feet to the ground. i warn others around me. then i wait. it's like weather. sometimes i'll predict a severe thunderstorm and get 5 minutes of rain. sometimes i'll predict a partly cloudy day and get a tornado. other times i'm dead on. hurricane. after it's over, i breathe and survey the damage. then i stand up and put my boxing gloves back on and face life head on, once again, with hopeful optimism. because that's what i do. i'm not a quitter, i'm stubborn, i'm strong, and i love my life WAY too fucking much to let some silly chemical imbalance take it over. it's my life.

i'm not naive enough to think that it will ever go away. no matter how much i medicate, no matter how much i pray or don't pray. i spent years praying, pleading, and quietly managing it all while trying to put on a face of normalcy. it was a shameful thing, not to be spoken of. now that i'm not afraid of a fairy in the sky or a group of men in suits every sunday morning, i'm facing it. and managing it better than ever, and with more support than ever. it doesn't define me, it doesn't control me, and i'm not ashamed of who i am. so i got up off my knees, dusted myself off,  started using my head and eyes instead of relying on mr. fairy to blindly guide me through my life solely on faith. fairies and faith got me through a lot in my life.

thankfully, i am now free.

bland? bitter? bitchy? you choose

so apparently my thankfully ex-husband has dropped out of college (with only 6 years and well over $80,000 invested) ((or was kicked out because of failing grades)) (((or had a divine intervention...all are equally possible))) and is back in our home town living with his parents working at a grocery store and joining the marines as previously planned...except he's enlisting instead of going in as an officer. whoops. sad i missed out on that part of our "journey". oh and if that wasn't bad enough, he hasn't called his children in over a month. WHOOPS. ((although i will give him credit for that last phone call mid february which lasted 3 minutes and 24 seconds))

so don't judge me for not giving a shit about his dumb ass, and don't you dare judge me for loving that my children have a true father figure in their lives every.single.day. who loves them as his own, and unconditionally. but don't think we have EVER said anything negative about him to the boys. i actually enjoy how non existent he is from all of our lives. minus that measly check i get at some point every month. that helps a LOT.
ok pissy-dead-beat-dad-rant over.
onto more personal and bland things.
i've been doing a lot of gardening and crafts. i upped my meds, which has really balanced me out. i still have terribly vivid dreams/nightmares. some days i can't sleep, some i can't get enough sleep. some days i get a thousand things done, others i am useless and actually create more mess than i eliminate. getting outside helps a lot.
wow that really was bland. and difficult to write. because i'm trying to sound...normal? calm? i don't know.
i'm contemplating making my blog private again. not because i'm ashamed of who i am, and what i deal with, and not because i'm afraid of sharing my life. this is such a total outlet for me and i absolutely LOVE the support i get, and i truly do enjoy being challenged by the criticism as well. the grown-up-criticism that is. the messages calling me names and breathing fire at me are more comical than anything else. my favorites are the emails and messages telling me things about myself or my past that i never even knew! who would have known, better than me, why i chose to do what i did?! apparently there are a LOT of people who have lived my life instead of me, and like to fill me in on things i must have somehow missed. to my utter disappointment, they never do laundry.
meanwhile, i'm teaching my kids to ride bikes. i'm taking my puppy on walks. i'm loving my partner. i'm laughing, and completely enjoying my life. (they pretend all they see is the sex i have with horses on saturday nights (only for money to FEED MY KIDS for fucks sake), and the devil worshiping we do as a family every sunday afternoon, and the incredible amount of liquor, tattooing, and bondage we engage in, and consume weekly)
yall should see this shit. total carnage.

i mean seriously?! who wouldn't want this life :)

attacked

these past few weeks have brought me back to feeling a need to be overwhelming self-preserving. i've felt this way before, of course. throwing up walls and shit.

once, when i was 17 and raped by a close family friend who was 26, but was too scared to tell anyone except my (then boyfriend, later husband, gratefully most recently) ex-husband, a mere 6 months later when i found out i was pregnant january of my senior year at a christian school by my (then boyfriend, later husband, gratefully most recently) ex-husband.

then, when i planned to abort my fetus (now, my sunshine)

then when i was forced by a christian adoption agency and my parents to adopt him out. how irresponsible it would be, for an 18 year old, to become a mother.

then by my family, claiming i was on my own should i choose motherhood at 18.

then by the christian adoption agency, the adoptive family, my family, and basically everyone in my life except for a precious handful, when i chose motherhood 10 days before the birth of my sunshine, aidan.

then again, when i conceived my second (which was "legitimate"...so it confused me a bit)...i believe my mother's exact words were, "oh i'm so sorry hilary, what are you going to do?!" and my dad said "...congratulations" in the most depressing way ever.

then again when i told my family of my rape and ....nothing.... was done. well, a discreet meeting with elders and prayer groups happened...but that didn't benefit me in the slightest. i was hoping for a castration. instead i got prayers and doubt.

then, when i realized my (gratefully) ex-husband was scared of my disease, of my depression and bipolarism, and ran away from me dropping me in a ditch to fend for myself in the dark. with an infant on my tit and a 2 year old on my hip.

then, when i was at the point of taking the babies in the car with me on drives at night for the sole reason i wouldn't run my car off the highway into a tree and would keep them safe, even if i couldn't/didn't want to keep myself safe.

then, when i stood up to everyone. and i mean everyone. and left my life in texas to start a new (and unplanned! oh the horror!) life in tennessee.

i had no consistent supporter, no one who stood by me all that time, no fairy in the sky who held my hand, nothing. but myself. and my own strength. and my will to survive. it wasn't graceful, or pretty, or easy. it was gut wrenching, excruciating, and raw. it was nasty, and at my lowest point i was barely holding my head up, slumped in the corner of the bathroom wishing for death with a razor blade in my hand.

but here i am. here WE are. because that free spirit in me that my family has always cursed, came out when nothing else would. because i'm stronger than all that. because life is for living. because i'm not a coward, i'm not willing to live a half-ass life and be miserable. god doesn't inspire me anymore. my children do. the sun does. my wonderful partnership with the most amazing man i've ever heard of does. colors do. stolen giggles behind closed doors do. this is life. this is MY life.

well now that we're current...back to the past few weeks. the first incident...well the information i can tell you is very limited pending a man twice my age growing a ball or two. i should lend him one of mine. if he ever does, i'll explain in detail. it'll be comical at that point. right now it makes my ears burn and my heart explode in anger. anyway, in once sentence, he works with the same fire department mark works at, and his wife went off her fucking rocker and came to my house, attacked me and threatened my family over about 10 text messages and a few exchanges of (accused, NOT EVER proven) googly eyes. so far, he has yet to sprout even the slightest hint of a silver chest hair and deal with this situation.

second incident. my puppy, my boy, my joey, attacked me. in a more literal sense. here's what i typed up for animal control:

February 15, 2012


I was sitting in the living room on the floor painting my nails. Joey (our 90 pound, 10 month old Great Dane) kept sticking his nose in everything and wouldn't lay on the couch, so I said “Joey, let's go outside.” He started bounding in circles from the kitchen to the living room. He has done this before but always stops after one or two circles and sits in his corner because he knows he's wrong. He continued to go in circles despite my verbal commands. I caught him and grabbed his collar and told him he was going outside, and he turned and latched on to my left forearm. I was startled and let him go. I then knew he wasn't playing and I knew I had to get the kids back. I had all 5 of my children at home, one at the kitchen table doing homework (age 6), one outside (age 5), two in their room (ages 11 and 9), and one upstairs (age 4). The one doing homework at the table got up to try and help me and I told him to sit and not get up. Joey lunged at me and was jumping up at me with all of his teeth bared. I caught him again by his collar, and pulled it off because it's loose. He continued lunging at me. At this point I was crying, shaking, and very scared. I grabbed him by the back of the neck, and attempted to drag him upstairs to where his kennel is. He turned and bit my left leg and tore a hole in my pants. I knew I couldn't get him upstairs, so I tried to drag him to the back door. He got away from me, and I was trying to catch him, and he came up behind me and jumped on my back, pushing my shoulders with his front paws and I fell down. He then grabbed my pony tail and pulled it. My adrenaline kicked in, and I somehow flipped him on his back and basically body slammed him to the ground and he knocked into a shelf and knocked a bunch of things over. I had him pinned to the ground and nearly strangled him. I then held onto his neck as hard as I could and tried to drag him to the front door, desperate to get him out of the house. He got away from me, and I called the 9 year old to stand in the doorway to help me catch him. He lunged at her and I caught him from behind. I grabbed his neck and he bit down on my left forearm and held on tight, gnawing at it. I just let him hold on and got him out the back door. I yelled at the child outside to come in and held onto Joey until he did. I then let him go and shut the door. He tried to follow me back in but moved his head just in time. I called my husband, who was at work, in a panic. He came home immediately and put Joey in his kennel. We let him out only to eat and go potty. I have never been so terrified in my life. I felt like I was fighting for my life, and for my children. I know if he wanted to he could have easily killed me. This act of aggression is inexcusable, and for the safety of myself and my children, my husband and I have decided he needs to be put down.

and he was put down on saturday the 18th. we had a behaviorist come to our home on friday after the attack. she has 25 years experience and travels to train k9 units for police departments, and specializes in aggressive dogs. she said joey is the third scariest dog she's ever encountered. she got a total creeper vibe from him the second she walked into the house. which really disturbed me...we knew nothing. but we're looking into another great dane. we just love the breed. he was mentally ill, and needed to go. but one bad one doesn't mean the whole breed is bad. he was such a sweetheart before all this, and exactly what we wanted out of a dog. the kids took it better than mark or i did. resilient.

so all this word vomit to say....i'm strong. you're strong. when you're at the bottom of your world, you're strong. not because you choose it. not because you roll up your sleeves and fight. because you survive. which is all it takes. just survive. life is good. love is good. everything changes.

down

what a week of lows. my brain doesn't know it's christmas time, apparently. i find myself more and more losing grip of how to cope, how to function, how to breathe. it's a battle between my stubborn brain and screaming heart. i crave to be "normal". i have grandiose dreams of being supermom, of secret giggles and moments stolen with my lover, of days full of productivity and joy...but i'm all too often disappointed in my own ability to ruin it all. why can't i be that smiling, romantic, cheerful, sexy, funny girl in my visions? why must i be the bitter, stubborn, hateful,tired, mean spirited girl of my reality?  life isn't fair. this disease isn't fair.

it's utterly exhausting to have the harsh reality hit me in the face every.single.day. that this is what i'll be dealing with my entire life. this neverending battle of meds, moods, and shit. for the entirety of my life. i don't understand the purpose of this curse, of this disease, other than god had nothing better to do the day he created me. (ha) "hey, i'm gonna make this chick fucked up the rest of her life and cause her, and everyone around her, and endless supply of pain!" thanks, "god".

i need a good day. i know i'll never escape this madness, but i've got to find a way to live with it, because everyone around me is suffering for no reason other than the fact that i'm stuck in their lives. i've experienced utter desperation more times in my short little life than anyone should have to. where is my break? where is my day? where is my light? oh life disease, what a horrible hand you've dealt me tonight. where is my freedom. where is my family's freedom. unfair unfair unfair.

bipolar disorder

It is very difficult to be around someone who is manic, because we are so mercurial; charming and entertaining one instant, then bitter and reproachful the next.

It is very difficult to be around someone who is depressed, because we are so volatile; smiling and seemingly stable one instant, then suicidal and absolutely hopeless the next.

So how difficult must it be for my family to deal with me, who is both manic and depressive? I can only begin to imagine the pain, uncertainty, and anger they must process on an hourly basis when I am around them.

On one level, I have 3 children who lost their mother to cancer at a young age. One of whom will never remember her. They had another woman come into their lives, pick up the pieces and raise them as her own for 3 years. She was taken from them because, as life would have it, she wasn't the one meant to be with their father. The gutwrenching task was given to him to, once again, inform his children they'd lost another mother. Then they get me. Manic depressive me. Even with out my illness, I'm not a very kid-friendly person. Not to mention, in the year I've been in their lives, I have yet to find my "balance", or any symbalance of a "normal" me.  Is that even a realitistic event that will ever occur in my life? I can only hope. All they want is a "normal" life. All they want is a mother, a family, and love. I give it my best shot, which to me feels like 100%. To them, it probably feels more like 10%. If only they could see the battles I fight every minute I'm awake. Then again, that's not for them to worry about, or know about. They are very reserved, and have walls of protection around their hearts. Who could ever blame them? That's not to say they are weak, because they are the strongest, most well-grounded children I've ever met. They understand life, death, love, and loss. That's not something every 11, 9 and 5 year old can say. Not even close.

On another level, I have 2 children who have  no walls, no boundaries, and love everyone the moment they meet them. I have to tell them, on a regular basis, that it means more to me when they only tell me they love me a handful of times a day rather than every 5 minutes. They force me to be affectionate, they demand constant reassurance of love. They may have "lost" their father out of their daily lives, but he was instantly replaced with a man who is more of a father to them than their actual father ever was. (The other 3 seem to have gotten the opposite deal, thanks to me) So those 2 didn't skip a beat. They did, however, suffer with me through the first 4 and 2 years of their lives. I layed on the couch for hours on end, and when I couldn't breathe from so many tears, they comforted me. I'll forever owe them my life, because if it weren't for them in those dark dark days, I wouldn't have had much of a reason to go on and pursue something better for them.

On the deepest, inner most level (as approximate to my heart), I have a partner. A man who scooped me up off the floor and held me until I could stand again. He continues to hold my hand as I learn to walk through this illness, through this maze that is my heart and mind. He was only aware of the tip of the iceburg when he asked me to be with him. I feel guilty about that sometimes; but in the back of my mind I know he would still choose me even if, on that first day, he knew all he knows today. I didn't ease him in, either. He came into our room one night to find me crumpled on the floor in agony. He was alarmed and confused, and I couldn't breathe long enough to explain, but he got on the floor with me and held me until it stopped. He is the only person in my life to not run from my illness. He doesn't pretend he doesn't see me when I'm hurting. He seeks me out, he takes away all my responsibilities, and makes me as comfotable as he can. He allows me every outlet he can afford me. He would do anything to help me. He spends hours researching my condition, coming up with coping mechanisims, and actively trying to understand me. He holds me when I cry, absorbs every second I smile, and never turns me away. It pains me, more than anything else, to see so much worry in his face when he looks at me sometimes. I have never known, or even heard of, a stronger man. Please hold out for me, my love, because I can't do this alone.

I am trying to think of a way to describe what it's like. It's all I know, so it's hard to compare it to anything else. For years I just thought I was depressed. I've seen counselors since I was 16, been on 5 different SSRIs for depression, and spent most of my Saturdays in bed. I always managed to simply manage. I never felt truly "balanced". During the period of my highest medication dose, I still had more bad days than good days. I'd always wondered if I was bipolar, instead of just depressed. Now I know. It all makes sense. (ha) I sometimes feel like superwoman. I feel so empowered. I take on massive projects, or plan out the layout of the house I dream of. I feel like I could conquer anything, and solve every single problem I've ever had in seconds. I giggle, play, laugh, and love. I don't have a care in the world and nothing can bring me down. With no warning, no trigger, nothing, I have lost the will to live. I hate everyone and everything. I can't deal with anything. I feel flattened, deflated, hopeless, helpless, worthless. I cry, I snap in anger at anyone for anything, I run away. I hide. I want to go to sleep and not wake up. Those are the two extremes I float back and forth between. That's as good, and as bad as it gets. Most of my time is spent in a milder state of either one. I've been dealing with it for so long, I've gotten pretty good at appearing "normal". As detrimental as that gift may be, I'm very thankful for it. I'm thankful I can function in daily life, while my insides are screaming at me. It allows me to, at least pretend, I am a functioning part of society.

I started taking my first antipsychotic medication a week ago. I felt better within 24 hours. I've had a lot of up and downs this week, mostly downs, but I feel like I can cope with it all better than I could 2 weeks ago. I had been on Prozac for several months, but let it lapse and went 2 weeks completely off medication. I would like to pretend those 2 weeks didn't happen. The only side effect I'm having right now is being incredibly sleepy, and incredibly thirsty. I can't complain, though, because I am so very thankful. Thankful I finally have insurance after a year of not having it. The Prozac wasn't cutting it for me, but I knew I couldn't afford to go see a doctor or get on a different medication. The good meds are the expensive meds. My insurance came through, and I am now able to take a medication that costs more than our house payment per month, for only $5 a month. I am thankful for my partner, and for my family who have endured me through all of this. I am hopeful of better days, and a better me.

Here's to the rest of my life managing, embracing, and learning how to live this life as a bipolar woman. (And hoping my family learns to manage, embrace, and learn to live this life WITH a bipolar woman.)