Guilty

When I was 14 I obtained my first job.  My parents divorced, and we couldn't live the lifestyle we once had.  I wanted to continue my passion though.  Dance and Music...

Age 14:  I became a dance teacher's assistant.  I taught 3-5 year olds cartwheels and other cute little moves.  The pay?  Free dance class for my age group and two additional performances included in our recital.  I also received a discount on my brother's acrobatic class by ballet dancing with girls my age that had special needs.  I continued to teach until I was able to get a "job."

Root Cause:  Make my parents proud of me.  Help their financial situation.

Age 16:  Two weeks after my birthday I immediately began to work.  I got my license to drive and took a job as a hostess downtown.  Fearlessly I left the suburbs almost daily, parked in a parking garage with piss in the stairway, and walked to a lovely restaurant almost nightly, left late, went to sleep and then went to school. Normal.

Root Cause:  My dad helped me get my first job.  Be a good girl.

Age 17 - 19:  School was getting tough.  I needed to switch to part-time.  I became a janitor for two years and a cashier at the local market.  I didn't mind a messy job.  I was making more money than anyone else I went to school with.

Root Cause:  Self gratification.  Oh yeah, and some really good weed.

Age 20:  After that I became a waitress, went to college, dropped out because I became pregnant by a convicted felon that I had no idea was a felon or that there was a warrant out for arrest.  He molested me and would get high and light my underwear on fire when he was high because the crack (that my naive ass had no idea he was doing) made him paranoid. He said it was "tainted by other men." 

Age 20-21:  Then I had my son, went back to work 3 weeks later which is kinda against the law because you aren't supposed to work unless yo are released by a doctor.  I started stocking shelves and carrying heavy crates when I wasn't healed yet.  But, my son needed diapers.  When I was "home" he locked me in a closet sized spare room.  I breastfed my son when he was hungry and pumped extra milk for him to consume when I went to work.  He only let me hold my son when I fed him.  He was taken away from me when I was done. Sometimes I would lie and say he was still feeding to prolong the inevitable. When my son went to sleep, I was abused.  I would take prescription pain medication to make the pain go away.  I passed out and he went to buy drugs and use.  It didn't take long for me to wake up and realize that I had worked my whole life and I left him and moved in with my father.  He stalked me for awhile but after he beat the crap out of me I took pictures of the bruises and got a court order for him to stay the "eff" away.

Root Cause:  I've always worked, therefore popping out a child that has NEEDS requires someone to pull the weight.

Age 21 - 25:  I went back to online school part-time and got a decent job.  I graduated in 2007 while simultaneously receiving 4 promotions at the same company.  I didn't know much but I learned quickly and kicked ass at what I did.  In addition, I met my "LLBFF" and my wife.  Life was good and half the time I didn't even realize how good it was.  My son's aunt took him every other weekend for supervised visits with his dad who was clean (for a little while).  We partied, threw money down at the bar like it was toilet paper we wiped our asses with, and had killer bodies.  At work, we were unstoppable.  It pissed so many people off that the two smartest girls in the department were also HOT and had great personalities.  We were a small close inner circle and didn't need to string people along that didn't matter.  Meanwhile, my wife went from a temporary worker to an invaluable component to the business.  Again, we were all LOUD, HOT, FUN, and SUCCESSFUL.

Root Cause:  Validation.  I finally made it?  Satisfaction.  We all had overcome so much.

Age 25:  Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder, Insomnia, and Bipolar Type 2 disorder.  I was manic and depressed at the same time (damn I miss mania).  My disorder has evolved since then but whatever...Anyways I was still working.  A member of leadership at this point.  I was responsible for 18 - 22 people and myself...haha...could barely take care of myself.  When I was first given Xanax, I was so manic it didn't even "work."  I didn't take extra because I didn't know how "exciting" how it would be in the future.  My wife was promoted again, we bought a house, my son started reading when he was 3.  Life was good.  House parties, shopping sprees, people were jealous of me...but secretly I was ill...

Root Cause:  Everyone I know thinks I am successful.  Don't "eff" this up.

Age 26:  Lost my job.  Lost some friends.  Lost my future wife for 2 months (can't mess with fate people).  Started taking Zoloft and "ripped my kin off" and then Abilify aka the devil...that didn't last long.  I went on unemployment, stopped partying so much, submerged myself in my son's school work and went to "the home" twice (see previous post the breakdown, the home, and the Indian).

Root Cause:  Legally Insane

Now:  I don't even know.  I have so many ideas that fear keeps me from executing.  Aren't people with bipolar disorder supposed to be entrepreneurs? (lol)

Root Cause:  It's complicated.

In closing, my relationship has completely changed dynamics.  I need an additional therapist.  Somehow, my wife has turned into my parent. When I was working (until yesterday) I was a failure.  I was behind on the laundry, the dust began to accumulate because when I was unemployed I cleaned the house more (naturally).  I didn't pay a bill or two on time...I am talking a few days off PEOPLE...she is such a perfectionist.  I realize now that was one of the reasons that attracted me to her and it has become a standard that I cannot even satisfy.  I am not perfection.  In fact, I FIND PERFECTION IN IMPERFECTION (remember that...its kinda my famous quote and stuff).  Unfortunately, I drive her crazy daily.  She holds it in until finally there is a volcanic eruption.  She has told me that she feels like a single parent that has to parent me and my son.  What?  This, I was not aware of...no offense, dear, but our son would be malnourished without you...no one can live off of ham sandwiches and hamburger helper....UGGGHHHERRREEGGGG!

However, she is my hero.  If she feels like my parent it is because I placed her there.  In my eyes she is on a pedestal that I cannot reach.  I stretch, stand on my tippy toes, only to fall on the floor in shame.  This situation is nobodies fault.  This is what happens when you have two extremely ambitious and loving people that happen to express themselves in two incredibly different ways.  Currently, I am jobless (again, as of yesterday).  I was afraid to tell her.  I was literally petrified because I knew I would feel GUILTY, SHAME, AND ANGER.  Why?  Why, do I feel this way.  She is a good person.  She is not abusive. She loves me very much.  WHY do I disappoint her to the point that I feel like slitting my wrists.

When you have a mental illness, everyone else in your life has a mental illness too.  A mental illness impacts every person you love.  They may not understand that is why they are so angry and confused.  They may not understand why they want to put their fist through a wall.  But they do...they may...and they stick around because they love us.  Remember, if they are frustrated, throw a fit, etc.  but do not leave (permanently) it is because they love you.  Just as hard as it is for us to express ourselves, for us to suffer, and for us to try not to flip out.  They are suffering too.  Some say a characteristic of mental illness is selfishness.  It is, not on purpose, but it is, because we forget that everyone else is suffering too.

Selfconciously yours,

Truthaboutcrazy

Warning: Bodily Fluids, Suicide, and Jesus

I like purple.  I am wasting time right now....delaying the inevitable...eyes are burning...should be asleep...

I'm in a suit.  I am ready for the day.  I check myself in the mirror one last time, make a last decision on shoe choice, admire my perfectly placed jewelry, and I walk out the door.  Everytime I touch the door handle my "hypocondrianism" kicks in.  I'm ill, I can't breath, my leg hurts, lack of sleep will cause a car accident, this suit makes me fake, I bought the suit on clearance I'm not fake...just keep walking, my left breast hurts (stop) I need to check for a lump, I think I found a lump.  I need to go to the Dr., Damn I have no health insurance until November, OMG get in the car!  If you lose your job you will have NO health insurance in November, when is November?  I hate the cold.  Its still hot today, I need sunshine therapy...get in the effing car!

(Driving and performing my exact ritual.  Sip drink, back out, turn up the radio to my favorite morning show, laugh and drive...)

 Out of the blue I am struck with plans to end it all.  Rapid cycling, plotting, pure evil.

I decide its time.  Time to end it all.  I pull over and make the plan, ok I have the plan.  I open the car door and vomit.  I get back into traffic and I call my best friend speaking such foreign gibberish even the BFF powers to interpret failed. 

I soil my pants...and piddle a bit too...it's bad...I'm not a damn poodle!

Hysterical I tell her about job difficulties and only current thoughts (nothing from the past that contributed to my deathly tendancies)  I freak out and pull into an Arabic or Islamic type church (not sure, not an expert, not a hater).  I end the call on a "happy note" and proceed to the back of the lot.  A dark shaded area tucked away in thick brush is my choice location to "take care of business...Glad I already went potty on myself since that happens when you die anyway...OMG why am I thinking this!

OMG answered.  I shall elaborate.  As my final moment presented itself, my heart awakened.  I didn't see a light or hear a voice I had a "thought."

GO NOW to the really awesome non-denominational church that loves everyone and coincides so closely with my oddly logical spiritual beliefs. 

OK SO LET ME BE VERY CLEAR:  I do not attend church unless its a wedding or a funeral.  I am a "gay for god" and not too many people like that here in the "south."

I went anyway.  So weird.  I just went.  I ended up speaking with the arts and drama director of the church instead of the pastor because it was early and dude wasn't there yet.  BUT this guy had the most bipolar insanely crazy, wonderful, odd, beautiful office.  We spoke for two hours and I ALWAYS feel like people are judging me (Dr's, christians, co-workers, etc.) I finally had no appointment, no meds to discuss, no requirements, paperwork, just a VERY brutally honest conversation.  IT WAS AMAZING.  I don't think I am JESUS now, I don't think I "got fixed," but I want to see another day and not suffer another day.

One day at a time, one moment even, but I am glad that I want to breath in life.  A few reasons why:

A desperate letter to my wife...

I hope you are happy because sending me over the edge worked this morning. Do you think your rude behavior towards me made the guilt go away? No, it made me puke brown sludge from my breakfast. TWICE. Do you think I wanted to lay around and sleep? Wrong. I did not stay home to sleep....


I literally layed this morning WITH MY HEAD IN MY HANDS stressed and SADDENNED beyond what your brain can possibly interpret. Your inability to take the hour an a half that you were at home and aware that something was very, and truly wrong, caused deeper problems than you and I CANNOT even imagine. This morning was a clear cry for help and I am disgusted by the fact that you actually held my hand and "tried" to care until YOU decided that you were infuriated. YOU made this about your own selfish thoughts instead of taking just a few moments to put yourself in my shoes. JUST A FEW MOMENTS WOULD HAVE HAD A BETTER OUTCOME.



I WILL have sick days; HOWEVER, I am extremely proud of my accomplishments. I AM EXTREMELY satisfied with my ability to OVERCOME my adversities to land this job, keep this job, and have the desire to GO BACK as soon as TOMORROW when I can make sense of the deamons that are lurking around the corner. HELL YEAH, this will happen again, my point is that I have always tried to impress you, make you and our family happy, and stop the insanity from ruining our relationship.



YOU, of all people, after all of the years of watching me cope, should understand that my life will not magically become easier overnight. YOU have watched my struggles since August of 2008 when I was first diagnosed. Yes, you gave me a second chance, but I feel as though I pay for it everyday. I have mental adversities over issues that are clearly my own deamons that develop into what is categorized as "guilt."



This is a much deeper seeded issue than you can ever imagine. If it wasn't for my image issues, I would be slittling my wrists, throat, stomach, between my toes, and the back of my legs every single day. Cutting, is not an act for attention, pity, or any other self absorbed categorization. Cutting is a charactoristic of my illness. No two mental illnesses are exactly the same. They are like fingerprints. I continuosly try to let you into the world of my addiction to mutilate. My terrible panic attacks and overcoming what developed into agoraphobic tendencies cause issues to do a task at work, it actually takes me twice as long because of all of the editing, second guessing, checking, re-checking, etc. Am I going to impress the intelligent individuals that I work with? Am I going to embarass myself? A lot of these issues many healthy people deal with AND I GET THAT; however, the impact on my "fingerprint" aka mental illness, is severe.



Have you ever felt like dying inside? Have you ever had too much on your plate? I already know the answer is YES. BUT, imagine that happening about every 20 minutes. It's referred to as the bipolar cycle.



Dr. "I" and I have known each other for 3-years. If I needed to prioritze my conversation to be about something other than what I chose to discuss the other day, then that is what we would have talked about. However, when I ranked my "deamons," that particular category was what had plagued my mind the most. You must also understand, that I have several items on my itinerary when I meet with him. Due to time constraints and ME SIMPLY FORGETTING, it doesn't always happen. I need a therapist in addition to all of this. WE need a therapist, actually, I think that a couple traveling through the process of healing together is something that can actually keep our relationship strong; stand out from the rest. WE talked about the therapist and it never happened.



I lost my train of thought, I had to go vommit again, sorry I didn't ask for your permission to be actually "normal person sick" and "mental person sick" on both days....but "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" right? Always multi-tasking like a good little girl. (this was my sarcastic sentence).



I want to say curse words. I will refrain from calling you names, and adding explicative "adjectives."



Again, I am in over my head. I do not need you to yell and say, "well then just quit." That will not benefit our family. That will not benefit my illness. I HAVE ALREADY SEEN a huge improvement being on a set sleep schedule, developing a daily routine, and actually doing a job that I am passionate about. BUT, it does not take away what still exists.



Today, was a cry for help. I do not need you to fly home from your job to babysit me. It was a strong need for us to build our level of conversation and communication which kinda sucks right now. Being a parent is awesome but it is definitely an inconvenience when scheduling a time to talk. Sometimes a cry for help supercedes any "scheduling" that may need to be done. Sometimes it needs to be a priority. I want to feel as though I am a priority. That statement is not intended to sound selfish. My intentions are genuine.



My cry for help is more of a NEED of respect and understanding as it pertains to SICKNESS. Sick days are unavoidable, I realize in the United States your employer has the ability to take your job away at any time for any reason. I realize that since we are gay I cannot go on your health insurance. I also realize that you cannot help to be ANGRY when you are the only working adult in the household. BUT, please understand, I ACTUALLY want to contribute. Huge difference. I want to provide for OUR FAMILY so that we can enjoy simple things such as cable, electricity, water, shelter, a healthy dinner as well as perks such as vacation and flying accross the country to see our family members that have chosen not to live near us (I have a lot of anger towards my family for moving away) and I know that you miss yours.



I love my job. It is very hard. I am afraid. But the fact that I have a job is an unbelievable gift. I want it but does it want me?



For goodness sake, I have to go to court and prove myself AGAIN that I am the best fit for my son and HE DESERVES child support. Have you thought that maybe the amount of stress from that day is a dark cloud getting closer, and closer, and causing me panic attacks? My throat has been burning from the attacks.



I want you to know that if I didn't love you and my son, I would let my son's father raise him and I would not be with you. I would be on the next flight to live with my parents or Hawaii to live in a tent with no health insurance and go off on some crazy downward spiral. BUT IT IS YOU that inspires me IT IS YOU that makes me want to try and be better. Why? I love you with all of my heart. I am in love with you. I don't love you for convenience. I don't love you because I am crying right now. I don't love you because it is the easy way out. You help me try, better myself, and you have the warmest heart. I just don't know if you feel the same way anymore. Is your heart slowly becoming cold? Are you slipping away? I don't feel like I deserve you. At times, I know you rather be married to a woman stronger than me. However, this is all I have to offer. I don't know what the future holds concerning any of what I have just discussed.



I lost my train of thought which seams to be a trend lately. I had to step away. If you choose to respond to me I will not be using my e-mail for the rest of the day. I have a lot to think about. Thoughts are swimming around my head and it is time I stop. Breathe. Take it all in. I went from 0-60 without preparing to go back to work because I was hired "on the spot."



If you chose to contact me, and I hope you do, I prefer a phone call as responding to this may not fit in a simple text message. But again, the ball is in your court now and that is your decision.





PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS YOU GUYS...I FEEL SO LOST!

Back to Work...

I'm so happy; I'm not happy.
Feed the sickness.
So deserving; undeserving.
Tiny voices in my head.

I try so hard to not try hard.
Feel the sickness.
So beautiful that its not wanted.
Want to hide under my bed.

I'm so strong; I'm so weak.
My "big girl" future is looking bleak.
I'm so happy; I'm not happy.
Familiar voices in my head.

Sooo...

How the hell are ya'll doing? 

I recieve a gift.  A gift of opportunity, coincidence, and discomfort all rolled into one.  I am working in a very high profile office performing a very high profile job where a neat and tidy appearance, mentality, and approach is everything....everything that I "used to be."

I accepted this gift because I am working for an amazing company with the top reputation for getting people jobs.  I'm a bleeding heart and so naturally I wanted to take this job. I couldn't find a job so naturally I can empathize.  Of course there are major standards, corporate requirements, and I have to market myself...It's wonderful, actually, but my disorder is lurking around every corner.  I only want to cry during the most inconvenient time!  I want to quit at least once a day because I am overwhelmed and I feel inferior.  I am working with these STRONG women with a clear vision of their lives, etc. etc.

Bottom Line:  I happen to be fortunate enough to have the "potential" of being the best.  This is what I have been told anyway...but when I am told something like that, my brain translates this into, "You are an idiot, go home, and never show your face in this high profile town again."

It's just too fast!  I didn't even know that I would interview on Friday and start on Monday...I had no time to prioritize, no "fun money" to buy new clothes and I just somehow show up in a suit and kick ass...I don't want to kick ass because then I get all of this attention...thats the other problem...I love attention...but I don't want it.  I can't stop dreaming about a car speeding down the road and hitting a wall.

I can't stop obsessing over the fact that no one is at the house now and I should be in it...I never really wanted to leave it but it's obvious that I was quickly developing agoraphobia...

I don't know how to end this blog so I'm just going to go off to bed...my head is swimming, I'm so glad Friday has arrived, and I hope I am atleast 50% awake tomorrow.  I'm not asking for pity or anything...I just can't stop envisioning this puppy dropped off in a fancy neighborhood trying to find someone to love him even though he is beat up a bit and doesn't look thin, well manicured, and promising...sick part is that I grew up in that fancy town and thats where the dysfunction began...we shall see I suppose.

I need my happy place!!!!!!!!!!!