Wednesday, October 18, 2006

I’m trying to find the middle...

Today was just a day. I think my Wordless Wednesday said it all. I was living, yes…but was I alive? I’m not sure. I mean I know that I was doing things and I got a lot done (some of my assignment, cutting out Doodles Halloween pattern, budgeting, placing my Avon order…) but my mind seemed to lack focus. It was as if I was going through the motions, almost on auto pilot.

My Kindred Spirit came over for a visit. You can ask her how hard it was for me to even put together a simple sentence. I was having a continual brain fart moment.

I’m not sure what my mood is. I am drifting. I am trying to figure things out. I thought that I was angry, but I think more than anything I am hurt. I mean I found myself talking a lot about the past today, things that were done and said…this was making me mad. It brought up my own resentment, but you can’t live in the past. You have to move on. This is what I have always tried to do, but my fight is done. I have no energy left.

I am tiered of being the one to say sorry first. I am tiered of being the one to reach out all the time. “Be the bigger person”. No more. I am done. Does this make me a bad person?

I think the weirdest part about today was not talking to my mom. I don’t usually go a day without talking to her unless she is out of town. She is my best friend. I just know that I don’t want to hear about it anymore. About how I was in the wrong. About my boundaries being off. It’s time for everyone to look within and take responsibility for their roles.

I realize that even though my action were not intent to hurt, they did. I get that, but shutting the door and closing me out will do nothing. I have no energy within me to try and open it. I have seen close one too many times before. Is this sad, yes. But you know what I can’t keep going on the same ride…falling…falling…if I fall too many times I may not be able to fall again.

This came out wrong; it makes it sound like I would be suicidal or something. My fear is that if I continue to fall I will be stuck in a dark and lonely place. I’m not there yet. I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to be there for me. I don’t want to be there for the boys. I don’t want to be there for Hubby.

Poor Hubby. The grumpy wife who greets him when he gets home from work. The wife who bitches and complains. The wife who talks about her poor pathetic life. The wife who is stuck in pity and anger. What a life for him. He knows I am sorry. He knows that I love him. He knows this because I tell him.

I didn’t call the doctor. How bad is that? I think a part of me was hoping that I could do this without upping my meds. But after three days and feel no better, perhaps even worse, I definitely need to make the call. It’s strange how scary that feels. I’ve been there so many times before. You think I would be used to it. Yet in so many ways it feels like I failed. Rationally this of course if not true, but in BPD and depression, rational is gone.

I’m back to my old pattern of calling him at work. I need to know everything little thing. I suddenly don’t know where things are in the house. I need answers to silly questions. All this because I can’t be alone with my thoughts. Because I need to know he is where he says he’ll be. I get the voicemail. I wonder if he’s avoiding me. I start to feel angry. I call more. He’s doing what he should be. He’s keeping his boundaries. Rationally I know this, but just answer once. Let me know you are okay. He should call me when he gets to works safely…let me know there was no accident. He should call me at lunch, touch base…he would know this if he read the book. Just pick it up and read it. It’s not hard.

I said some things to Hubby tonight. Just sort of spiteful things, trying to hurt him. I made him angry. Knowing this I pushed a bit more. This is when he should ignore me…set the limits and tell me that he doesn’t need to listen and walk away. He would know this if he’d read the book. (Sorry, I’m obsessing. My though patterns are stuck. The record is skipping.)

Why won’t he read it? He keeps telling me he will, yet he doesn’t. Why? Why? Why not? Am I not important enough? Does it mean actually admitting that something is wrong? WHAT??? I wish that he could answer that for me.

I think he’s ashamed of my illnesses. He’s never says it. He never would. Maybe embarrassed is a better word. I think he’s come along way, but part of him is still unsure. He doesn’t know what to make of all of it. How can he? He doesn’t go through the struggles that I do. He bares witness, but there is no logic to when things happen or are said. He is a science guy. He needs logic. I think part of him thinks I do it all intentionally. Why shouldn’t he be? Society is. It’s no fault of his, no weakness…it is about growth.

Besides, how can he begin to understand? I mean I don’t even understand. I think what bugs me the most is this look he gives me sometimes when I talk…like I am crazy or off the rocker and totally don’t get it. My mental capacity is the same it is my emotions that don’t work.

I get this too with my physical alignments. He is such a compassionate guy when it comes to others, but for me there is very little. Like my pain isn’t real. I mean how could I physically be sick…I mean I am mentally ill, so it must be all in my head right?

I think I am partly to blame for this. I push myself to hard. I don’t let things stop me. Because I am able to accomplish so much it seems odd that I can feel so bad. What am I supposed to do sit around and feel sorry for myself? I just hate the looks I get when he comes home and finds me napping or dinner not cooked. Some days it takes all I’ve got to get showered and get out of bed.

I know that it isn’t fair that he should have to cook after a hard day at work. I get that…I really do…but some days it is just so hard for me. It seems so out of reach. I have days where once I am down the stairs, I know that my legs won’t let me go back up them. I have others where the thought of moving two steps away from the bathroom could be deadly…but that seems to go unnoticed. I can’t explain this. I’m making him sound like a bad guy. So not my intention. He does so much without complaining. He’s put a lot on the line for me. He’s always made me his number one…but I guess it’s the mumbles under the breath, the looks or the tone of voice. But there is the other side. The tea in bed at night or on Saturday mornings. The way that he allows me to make him vulnerable online and not take offence. How he loves me unconditionally. Part of me isn’t easy to love. I get that. I mean even I find it hard at times, but it is still who I am.

I am not trying to say that my illnesses excuse my behaviour. I know that they don’t. They simply offer some insight, some type of explanation. This explanation offers hope of controlling them and potentially overcoming them. It is a journey though. A long journey. One that will continue to have ups and downs. One were mistakes will continue to be mad and feelings hurt. These things happen even when mental illness isn’t a factor. The mental illness just makes them that much worse. It magnifies things. Shine a little light on the glass and you have a fire. Blow on it and it burns, goes wild. Smother it and it goes out, but it my smolder below.

Just sensitive today. I’m floating between the black and white thinking.

(Side note: As I was typing this, my mom called. She seemed okay. It was nice to hear her voice. She wanted to know how Mr. Magoo did at dance and when Doodle’s next hockey game is. She asked about my dad. I still feel like there are things left unsaid…yet I’m the one who thinks we need to move past it…I’m so confused.

So because Blogger is having the same kind of day as me and not functionally properly…I used the time it spend trying to save and stuff to call me mom. I started by thanking her for the call. I told her that I’d missed her today. Then there was a silence. So I filled it with the unspoken words from before. I needed to get closer from her perspective. I needed her to understand where I am at now and how I plan to move forward and why. It felt really really good to be so honest with her. I stayed calm and spoke from the heart…no mask…no anger…There was no blame or judgment. I think it is one of the best “confrontational” type conversations I have ever had. I asked what she needed from me. I told her what I could give. I told her what I needed from her. She told me what she could give. It stayed civil.)


Anonymous said...

I'm proud of you for at least realizing that you're having a hard day, and putting your thoughts down. I don't know if I could ever be that strong if I was in your shoes.


Mrs Lifecruiser said...

I agree with bubba on that one, well done to just get it out!

It's great that you had that honest and calm talk with your mom. Maybe a start of a new beginning? Let's hope.

About your hubby and not readig your book. I don't think it's because he doesn't care - on the contrary, that's exactly what he maybe does - too much.

I don't know him, but it's a possibility that he loves you so much that this is too tough for him to handle. He might be afraid of reading the book. So I don't think that he is ashamed, just afraid, not getting the strength to tackle it.

As he is a guy I think that maybe he feels bad about not being able to help you more than he does. Men tend to do that, they believe that if we say something to them, it's because we want them to SOLVE our problem, when we actually just are begging for some support and understanding. They often don't grasp that, instead they feel that they have failed.

We are different there, men and women :-)

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