If family and friends are reading this, please stop here because I’m going into adult content, I would rather not know you read or if you do please don’t discuss it with me. Please don’t read it just scroll on to the next post.
This has been requested be several people for an update on what’s going on, but I’ve not really been up to writing a response. I’ve focused my attention on repairing what I broke. I think I’ve fixed it well some of it. He and I have talked numerous times and had a fight or two in the middle trying to figure everything out. I learned some hard truths in the middle of one of our conversations. I kind of knew it but it was confirmed. (This is a completely different topic.) I like most people with bipolar disorder have one of a few different problems which is in the bedroom. Hypersexuality wasn’t a bipolar trait I harness. So that issue has always been a problem. (This goes with something else that happened.) and we got in this cycle where it wasn’t love it just happened because, I didn’t enjoy it and I wanted it to be over. I felt like this was a fix to make it all better and if this was happening it meant everything was okay which also wasn’t true. (Marriage, children, sex, money don’t fix relationships.) It was the moment he told me that he didn’t know if he could get intimate with me again did I realize that those moments when it wasn’t a quick one and done that I did enjoy it and how I missed that time with him. I cried and prayed begging for me to have it back. I wanted it all and that’s when I realized just how badly I messed up.
It took until his birthday until things started to feel semi-normal again. It’s been almost 3 months and things are better now. I stopped saying I can’t and instead using “I’m struggling with.” I’ve also started working on not redirecting anger and blame on him when I’m the one guilty and struggling. I know some of you mentioned therapy, but I’ve never had a good experience with therapists. Our conversations aren’t so one sided and much more open. He had 4 simple request that I work on.
1.) Get up before 7:30
2.) Eat breakfast
3.) Help clean around the house
4.) Walk the dog.
I don’t know if it gets easier than this, but I’ve done all 4 and I am in much better headspace. I’ve focused on losing weight and doing little things of self-care to help boost my confidence (I had none which is why I was so co-dependent.) We knew this wouldn’t be an overnight fix but I’m taking baby steps to get there. I’ll be damned if this illness will make me lose everything I love. If only I could remind myself of that when I’m in a bad place, but this is the update. I am working on undoing what I caused.
On the palm of my hand there is a tattoo of a semicolon with a wing it is about the size of a quarter and when people ask why there I say in 2017 because of my job they said if the tattoo was the size of a quarter or smaller we didn’t have to cover it now matter where it was. See that reason is much easier than the real story. (Part of the appeal of the tattoo right there was to be an asshole) but it has so much more meaning.
This tattoo has a special place in my heart for several reasons. In 2017 I struggled with my addiction issues, recently losing a family member, and horrible rapid cycling that caused me to make a lot of impulsive and bad decisions. I got this tattoo along with the Smile now, cry later. I was so out of it I forgot he was working on a tattoo and tried to get it. I was so numb to everything and kept popping pills hoping they would solve all my problems. I remember at that moment wanting to feel something so I asked him to do the tattoo and when he asked where I remember seeing it on the palm of the hand and thought that if I let him tattoo in that spot I would finally be able to feel something, I didn’t want to be numb anymore. He told me he had to press hard to keep it from fading and I told him as hard as you can. I felt it probably not as much as expected but I was so happy that I got to feel something. It was a week after my birthday that I attempted suicide again. (This was the Facebook live situation and you know the rest of the story on how that ended.)
It might be small and in an odd place but whoever I look at it I remember the moment when everything fell apart it was the only piece of feeling I had.
As I write this my heart still hurts. I’ve not been feeling well lately my moods have me going in all different directions which has also caused a lack of sleep and my mouth has outrun my brain again. This causes terrible fights and even though my husband is saint everyone has a breaking point and I hit it again. The last time this happened 2017 I was self medicating with pills and overdosed which ended with him kicking me out of the house for three days and it was rough for awhile but I was so numb back then I didn’t really feel it but this time I do.
This last one was bad I told him he didn’t understand anything (the only person who has been here through everything and knows me better than anyone else) and I was so angry and what was so bad is I wasn’t even angry with him I was angry with myself and this mood swing but fml I can’t seem to grasp the idea that I need to talk to him before things got to that point and I said some extremely hurtful and stupid things I can’t take back so now I am sitting in this situation.
It started on Thursday when I left for work and I could tell he was irritated but instead of leaving it alone and going to work I had to call him before I got there and this started the downfall. I was so aggressive and quick to blame him for my mistakes, insecurities, feelings that I wanted to talk to him about but chose the wrong everything to do it. He’s made it clear that I need to make some changes before anything returns to normal again but I am on God’s grace right now because he could’ve said I’m done with this and I want a divorce but he didn’t. I felt it in my heart that it was going to happen so instead of working on ways of fixing I begged and pleaded with him to stay with me and that time of uncertainty I couldn’t eat, sleep, everything made me cry. All of these emotions I’ve fought with for the last few weeks the ones that I managed to numb came out and I felt everything. My anxiety was probably the worse it has been in five years. I just fell apart but I am working on it but thinking that he doesn’t look at me the way he used to still hurts EVERY SINGLE DAY!
I have the ability to fix it but the problem is my codependency issues. He’s always reassured me that everything will be okay and we will figure it out but he said he isn’t helping me and I have to learn to cope with things and self soothe (which is so hard.) I have to become more confident in what I am doing and who I am.
I’ve caused this problem and right now it feels impossible to fix it but this is the hard part. I have to know that it will work out and I have to be the one who shows it first.
I had my 6 month check up with my psychiatrist today and we were speaking openly about suicide after admitting that I was having suicidal thoughts. We were also discussing the differences in being suicidal and having suicidal thoughts (that is a different post.) He said that 19% of people diagnosed with bipolar disorder take their own life and that equals like 1 in 5. Those odds are shocking for some reason. If you think about the big picture 2.3 million Americans are diagnosed with bipolar disorder. If I did my math right that equals out to 437,000 people. That means there are 437,000 people contemplating suicide most with no support from anyone.I am one of the biggest supporters for the AFSP but how do we fix this? What can we as the mental health community do to combat these odds? There are so many people who can’t afford medicine, therapy let alone see a psychiatrist to properly diagnose and help them. This is something we need to recognize and help each other. We aren’t going to receive any help from the government and there is so much of a stigma attached to us people refuse to publicly support it unless it is a celebrity who claimed to “recover” from it. We need to speak openly and honestly about our struggles. I think we can be the change if we become more comfortable being open and knowing even though they might not understand we can make them care. 1 person loss to suicide is 1 too many. Let’s start the conversation and help decrease these numbers.
I’ve actively avoided him for as long as possible but they won’t refill my meds until I see him. This whole process is a chore in itself, getting the day off work, making sure my husband can pick up our daughter driving the 45+ minutes to get here and I dread it. This time I had to pay for a past balance before they would schedule the appointment only to walk in and here you still owe a balance. I lost my cool a little and feel bad for the girl behind the desk. I had paid the balance so they would give me a 30 day supply of medication. I had a balance because my amazing psychiatrist was out due to personal reasons and also COVID was on its first phase of shut downs so I had to talk to this asshole via zoom which sucked. He didn’t listen to a word I said he just kept pushing my meds and new meds because I needed a change. The feed kept freezing and he wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to talk every time he asked me a question it was like “How are you feeling?” “I am feeling….” “You need something besides Lamictal…” How in the world would you know that after you barely asked me a question and didn’t let me respond. I called back and told them that I would rather go without meds than talk to that jackass ever again. I think we were prepared for the conversation though. I don’t know if they heard me fuss at him or he complained about me but alas it is that time again. I am glad I was given the option to go in the office. I know that with just a few hiccups I’ve been okay but it is always an uneasy feeling… Here goes nothing
As I sit here writing this my car is currently on jacks the hood, trunk, and drivers side door wide open my gas tank on the shop floor if only it were my fuel pump but it isn’t and as I watch them my heart is breaking.
It isn’t just a car to me. I can tell you where every ding, scratch, and the stain is from, my salt life sticker I picked out when we were in Pensacola after a trip to Orange Beach Alabama even though we don’t live anywhere near a beach. My initials crooked on the back glass, my beads are from the AFSP walk along with a discolored brown and pink polka dot ribbon I bought for my daughter but that it looked better on my mirror. I remember driving my husband’s old beat up green S-10 with no insulation and holes in the floor board. The seat was nothing more than pieces of wood and I had to sit all the way forward just to drive it. The gas hand didn’t work so you had to guess when it needed gas and a “security” switch (it had to be hard wired because of a problem with the ignition switch.) but it got me to work and home amazingly with minimal problems. I’ll never forget the day I went to the car dealership and drove my car for the first time. I fell in love and I had to have it.
I remember going to Jacksonville Florida just a week after we bought it. I had Sirius radio for free and drove all night drinking red bull and berry smoothies from McDonald’s we fell asleep in the beach and got so sunburned. This car drove all the way to Naples, Florida and back which is a 9 hour drive. We took it on all the family vacations but it was there for me. It was there for me when I needed to scream at the steering wheel when I had a bad day, it took me to the drs appointment and later to and from the psych hospital. I drove it when I was high, manic and severely depressed. It took me to my spot on the lake where I sat on the same concrete making my suicide videos. It survived all the times I drove high especially the few times I ran off the road, all the times I almost rear ended someone trying to find the perfect song on my phone. It survived every move, angry fight when I sped off or took my computer hid in my car crying.
Godspeed Jolene you were an emotional attachment I wasn’t ready to let you go yet especially with the new job but know that you will always have a place in my heart. I have emotional attachment issues so this one hit me hard.
Somewhere between 2Pac and Valerie Carter, drenched in sweat at a 7.5 incline with 2.8 speed my brain and I had a come to Jesus meeting. I’ve struggled the last couple of weeks last week being the worst with my depression. I’ve also hid it the best that I could and if you’ve dealt with mental health issues for as long as I have you know how to turn your illness into a “migraine” “stomach virus” or any other physical illness because saying, “I’m depressed.” Comes with so many questions you just don’t want to answer because for some reason you just can’t be depressed without a reason. I never understood why that is I think it’s just a stigma people don’t realize. (That’s another topic.)
I said things to myself that if anyone who didn’t struggle with this said to me it would piss me off. “You’ve dealt with worse. You’ve got to suck it up we’ve done so well with avoiding melt downs. I know right now working out feels like torture but you have to just sitting around the house makes it worse. Last week sucked but this week we are going to do better. We are going to shower more than once, brush our hair and teeth every day. Get out of bed on time put on makeup because we always feel better when we do. I know you hate it but you might have to force that smile. You around people who aren’t use to you and don’t know what you are going through maybe if they did they would treat you better but I doubt it. You are a badass who went through a complete breakdown, overdose got kicked out of the house, detoxed and never missed a day of work even if you were late. I know you can do it you just have to focus. It’s hard to focus but I need you to try. You have stereotyped yourself so much you want to punch yourself in the face but I know what you are capable of and I know what you’ve been through this isn’t something you need to worry anyone else with because you can do this. I love your crazy ass and the fact that I can say that now is a huge improvement. Just fight it okay.” That sums up the conversation I had with myself. I left out some of the swears and other personal details but I have learned to love myself some and I think that makes times like these easier.
Who isn’t scared of the Coronavirus because you survived so many overdoses and with all the medication you’ve taken, stuff you snorted, manic episodes and all the other reckless ways you’ve lived your life that you should suffer some permanent damage but Gods got a good sense of humor spared you and survived you have this fuck it attitude. If I can take so many benzodiazepines I should’ve died at least 15 times if not more survived withdrawals while working, managed manic episodes without being hospitalized and managed to keep a sliver of sanity. So I’m not worried about the Coronavirus. If I’ve survived life this far a virus isn’t going to scare me.
For everyone who is suffering from or died because of the virus my heart goes out to you.
What dumbass thinks going back to an environment that was toxic and caused unbearable stress is a good idea because you miss it and you can’t just be normal because you aren’t normal and you are having mental health issues without it but will probably have more with it but it was the only thing you had to cling onto when it got bad even though it just made everything worse and enabled bad habits but again you are a dumbass who doesn’t think decisions through and that’s why you have 7 tattoos some of which you regret because you were manic and thought it was a good idea but now can’t wear regular clothes because of them. It’s me…..I am that dumbass…..