20 June 2016
It's 3 am. I've been awake for a while now just thinking, but only recently came downstairs to write it all out rather than silently wetting my pillow with any more tears.
The title of this post has reference to the song from Camelot. King Arthur sings it either to or about Lady Guinevere. Husband is strong, but I worry that I will drive him to the point that he is too tired to take it anymore. I worry that he will leave me.
The other song that's been running through my head is Rachel Platten's Stand By You.
It'd be great if it could be Husband's theme song to me, but I'm the one walking through hell. His being in hell is, at this point, completely voluntary.
In a previous post I wrote about The Episode. That was one of my biggest demons. One that's been tormenting me every day for the last 8 months. After that one got exercised I started tackling The Delusions that led to The Episode. The delusions are far more dangerous because they are silent and no one knows that anything is wrong till it's too late. I haven't been dwelling on spinning on them daily anymore.
Unfortunately since starting to write everything out I'm left with my here-and-now reality: The big demon is being bipolar, and I can't write that fact away.
Husband has told me that he has seen improvement in my being on the medicine. I'm taking 100 mg/day of Lamictal (lamotrigine). In the hospital I was given Zyprexa (olanzapine), but once I got home I started sleeping too much, felt depressed and overwhelmed by my inability to function. I stay on the meds. I can't have any more children, or the second daughter I've wanted so badly. If I get too riled up, another prescription cocktail will make me bearable to everyone else. 'Cause that's what's most important, right?
Father's Day yesterday was pretty awful. Husband woke up on the wrong side of the bed because I had gotten up and made too much noise looking for a medicine dropper for the baby. Shortly after midnight I got up and started by looking in the usual places. When I couldn't find one I started looking in other drawers. Drawers were sticking. Drawers were too full of kitchen tools and wouldn't close. I got frustrated and started slamming drawers. Loudly. Bubas is upstairs awake and crying because his teeth hurt and he wants me back. Husband woke up and questioned what I was doing.
A few hours later Pumpkins came in looking to sleep with us and Husband handled it by letting him sleep on our bedroom couch. So, after being woken every couple of hours Husband was rather worn out by morning.
He woke up on the wrong side of the bed, feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. Everything went downhill from there. The night before he told me to take the little boys upstairs and give them baths for church the next day and that he would clean up the downstairs. However, Jack did not sweep the floor and the baby's high chair was not cleaned out. And..so that in the morning the floor had a steady stream of ants into both the dining room and the pantry, and the baby's highchair was covered in ants having a hay-day eating all of his dinner leftovers.
I wanted to make Husband breakfast in bed. But after I got up, he didn't stay in bed. My next attempt was to at least make him breakfast. I tried to start cooking but after the ants were discovered my efforts went to cleaning up the ants out of the high chair and Husband cooked his own breakfast. So, I resigned myself to making a green smoothie for The Princess and Jack (my two heaviest children). It was with spinach, strawberries, bananas, Greek yogurt and plant based chocolate protein powder. Seeing the carbalicious breakfast Husband was making for everyone else, both Jack and Princess balked at having to drink green smoothie. Husband jumped in and told them that they could have eggs if they finished it. (OK, kinda missing the point of calorie reduction, dear). Princess only drank half of hers. Husband took a portion of Jack's and together they finished it. But, it wasn't without much complaining, grimacing and exclamations of "GROSS!" ...from Husband. (OK, not helping).
My frustration was that I had spent a significant amount of money over our normal food budget this week and everyone just wanted to throw their food away and have something else. (Look, people. I'm really trying to feed you healthy, nutritious, enjoyable foods here. If you don't like it, just muscle through what I've given you and we won't make that unpleasant recipe again. But don't waste food.)
I got upset, shouting, "IT'S ONE FREAKING MEAL!!!" Husband left for church angry and on top of everything I was asked to play the organ last minute. So I'm supposed to play songs I've not had time to practice? Fabulous.
I reminded myself that, "Today is Father's Day and you're doing a really crappy job of making this special for Husband. Suck it up. Smile through it. And apologize for making his morning miserable." When I got to church with the littles I went up to him, smiled the best I could, apologized and then went to work on the organ prelude.
Husband suspected something was up, but I denied that anything was wrong, smiled and took the baby with me to Relief Society (despite his protests) so that I would have my squishy to love while still feeling raw on the inside.
When we got home from church it was time for lunch. Given our rough breakfast (weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth) I decided that maybe it was just better for everyone that I stop trying to portion control everyone. Rather than have my normal lunch, I drank the rest of Princess' smoothie from the morning. I encouraged everyone to have whatever they wanted. When I saw Jack going back to pick out more meat, I encouraged him to do so. We went out to the knack box and I offered him chocolate. In both cases he looked at me like I'd lost my mind (...incidentally....) but rather than choose what I'd prefer for him, he continued eating like he normally would when unchecked. I think his ultimate preference is to just eat whatever the heck he wants and not have me say anything about anything. He's 12 and weighs 185 pounds. Totally my fault. I let his meals slide and he went to carbs and cheese, because it's what he knew how to prepare.
I asked the kids what cake I should make for Father's Day. Husband insisted it was too much work, so I suggested the boxed brownies that has been his favorite go-to for FHE.
Husband wanted to talk it out seeing that my behavior was so different than my usual hyper-active-health-nut food Nazi. I smiled, but he interpreted that as my laughing at him on the inside and just got mad. The complaint was, "I know when you're legitimately happy."
Husband asked what I needed from him. "I need you to provide for our family, which you are doing wonderfully. I need you to put your dirty clothes in the hamper. I need you to play with the kids and interact with them."
He wasn't satisfied.
Husband asked what I didn't need from him. "Well, I don't want you to go to nudie bars, use drugs, stay out all night, drink alcohol". Since he already doesn't do any of those things, he didn't seem satisfied with that answer either.
I smiled as best I could, which only seemed to aggravate him more. Then I could see it in his eyes: I give up.
So I conceded and said, "Look, I'm trying here. I'm trying to make the best of it. Lemonade out of lemons. Not freaking out about little inconveniences like ants in the house. I don't want to fight the kids on their food. They're going to have to want to make good choices."
This new insight seemed to make him feel better. Although I didn't point any fingers of blame except at myself, he self-convicted and pointed out all the things that he did wrong that made for an awful morning. He agreed to work with me on the food and asked me to not give up on the kids. I needed to help them despite their push back and he would help me.
Dinner was portioned out and everybody was happy. But I was emotionally exhausted and even though I'm trying to stay on my own diet (Dr. Simeons' hCG) I ate the left over Cool Whip Free that didn't go on our fruit bowl desert. Then I ate the fruit the children didn't finish. Since I'm on a roll here I might as well take a handful of chocolate and just finish my binge on a happy note. But it seemed that Husband didn't like that I took the chocolate. He let me, but interpreted it as my own personal fit. I suppose in a way it was.
So we went to bed. He didn't want to talk. He was withdrawn and only told me that he was tired. He wouldn't specify. Just tired.
I get it. You're tired of my swings. So am I. I'm constantly putting you on an emotional roller coaster. It's not fair. I can't help it. I'm trying. But it's not good enough.
At some point they're all going to get tired of me. Tired of the outbursts over stupid stuff. Tired of the swings.
I really think that as I get older my brain will disintegrating into Swiss cheese of mental illness. What I'll have in the future is not only more of the same, but much worse. Fabulous.
So at some point they'll decide I'm too erratic. My children won't want to be around me. My husband will leave me. I'd rather just leave now and let them miss me then wait for the slow burn of my mental incapacitation to strip me of everyone I love.
How is this even fair? I'm supposed to be here to learn about mortality, choosing right and wrong, and I get this FUCKTABULOUS trial of being bipolar where my choices are driven by chemical imbalance. Congratulations! You get to reap the eternal rewards of impulsive decisions thanks, bipolar bear. You suck.
I am living with demons I cannot escape. I hate it so much.
Update: If you haven't already noticed... I get raging side out first and I come back and even out the emotional teeter totter blogging with the more rational side of myself.
Husband is amazing. That much is still true. He has told me that he is in it for the long haul. I need to just suck it up and believe him. Just because I would run away if our roles were reversed doesn't mean that he will. Let me clarify: If HE were screaming and trying to run out of the house naked into the middle of the street I simply do not have the physical strength to help him. If our roles were reversed it would be a real safety issue for our family. But, would I stick around if he got cancer? Would I stick around if he got dementia? Would I stick around if he were suddenly disabled? Yes, yes, and yes. It would SUCK big time. But, I am also in this for the long haul. This relationship is not just a convenient arrangement for this life, but an eternal one for worlds beyond this time and space.
My children also love me. They've seen me LOSE it. Not just once. But multiple times. And I'm embarrassed and regretful over EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. But the good news is, that since I have been on the bipolar medication I am not losing my crap over day-today life issues that are really just the inconvenient side of normal. So that's a good thing. FrostKnight is 14, but really he's just a adult-size child who still needs hugs, Eskimo kisses and reassurance. Princess looks up to me in ways that I will probably never realize or understand. She watches me. She emulates me. She LOVES me with a fierceness that I will never deserve. She is also scared for me that I will have another episode...and I GET it. But they love me and no matter what they WANT me.
Sometime in September while my delusions were building I lost my temper (again) and stormed out of the house. Everyone was balking at using napkins at dinner. I stood up. Threw down my napkin and walked out the front door.
I left my cell phone at home and went on a very long walk around several blocks in the neighborhood. I walked up to the green belt between the neighborhoods and walked in the moonlight contemplating going back or just running away for good. I noticed that my shadow was in front of me as I walked out along the path. As I turned around to retrace my steps back out of the greenbelt to start heading home I noticed that my shadow was once again in front of me. How was that even possible with the moon in the same position? At the time I had a thought that perhaps the Savior understood my frustration and was walking just behind me, to keep me company and give me encouragement. The light of his glory, though muted and veiled from my view, peeked through. It was a comforting thought. My shepherd was there when I needed Him. In reality it was probably the porch lights from the houses that cast my shadow in multiple directions and not Jesus Christ.
The house was locked when I got home. I went around the back and sat outside the living room window and listened to my family. The baby was crying because he was hungry and wanted to nurse. The children were looking for reassurance from Husband that I would come back. I didn't think that my walk around the block would cause them so much concern. I knew where I went. But they didn't. So I listened. What did they really think of me? Did they really want me back? When I couldn't stand hearing the baby cry anymore I went to the front door.
Husband took me into the garage, locked the door and yelled. I deserved it. He told me that he was done. His words made a cold dread surge through me. I stood there and took it. When he had purged his frustration, fear and anger he cried. Do you want a divorce? You can have it all. All I really ever wanted was you. I don't care about any of it. It's you I wanted. You and our family. But you keep walking out on us. The kids...they get SO scared and I don't know what to tell them. I didn't know if you were ever coming back. I told him I deserved his rage. I agreed that it wasn't fair to the children and it was never my intention to scare them. I wanted him too. He made me promise that I would never leave him again.
It has been an immature go-to response...to just up and leave when I get mad. And it scares them. People that I love. It SCARES them. It's not fair and it's not something that I should plan for, fantasize about or even consider. They will be up and grown and out on their own sooner than I realize. Husband will get old and sick and eventually succumb to mortality. THIS is not a permanent state of being. These stupid frustrations of life are not a constant. And running away never solved anything. Running away does not FIX anything.
So I will stay and thank God that I CAN. I will enjoy every moment that I have with my people. Oosa Bubas will not always head-but me when he wants kisses. Barron will not always want to kiss my nose before bed. Arcus will not always ask me to nibble his ears. Jack will not always let me give him back scratches. And Pumpkins will not always want me to sit by his bed and hold his hand as he falls asleep. But today they do. Today they are my littles. Today we are all together under the same roof. And today...that is enough.
It's 3 am. I've been awake for a while now just thinking, but only recently came downstairs to write it all out rather than silently wetting my pillow with any more tears.
The other song that's been running through my head is Rachel Platten's Stand By You.
It'd be great if it could be Husband's theme song to me, but I'm the one walking through hell. His being in hell is, at this point, completely voluntary.
In a previous post I wrote about The Episode. That was one of my biggest demons. One that's been tormenting me every day for the last 8 months. After that one got exercised I started tackling The Delusions that led to The Episode. The delusions are far more dangerous because they are silent and no one knows that anything is wrong till it's too late. I haven't been dwelling on spinning on them daily anymore.
Unfortunately since starting to write everything out I'm left with my here-and-now reality: The big demon is being bipolar, and I can't write that fact away.
Husband has told me that he has seen improvement in my being on the medicine. I'm taking 100 mg/day of Lamictal (lamotrigine). In the hospital I was given Zyprexa (olanzapine), but once I got home I started sleeping too much, felt depressed and overwhelmed by my inability to function. I stay on the meds. I can't have any more children, or the second daughter I've wanted so badly. If I get too riled up, another prescription cocktail will make me bearable to everyone else. 'Cause that's what's most important, right?
Father's Day yesterday was pretty awful. Husband woke up on the wrong side of the bed because I had gotten up and made too much noise looking for a medicine dropper for the baby. Shortly after midnight I got up and started by looking in the usual places. When I couldn't find one I started looking in other drawers. Drawers were sticking. Drawers were too full of kitchen tools and wouldn't close. I got frustrated and started slamming drawers. Loudly. Bubas is upstairs awake and crying because his teeth hurt and he wants me back. Husband woke up and questioned what I was doing.
A few hours later Pumpkins came in looking to sleep with us and Husband handled it by letting him sleep on our bedroom couch. So, after being woken every couple of hours Husband was rather worn out by morning.
He woke up on the wrong side of the bed, feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. Everything went downhill from there. The night before he told me to take the little boys upstairs and give them baths for church the next day and that he would clean up the downstairs. However, Jack did not sweep the floor and the baby's high chair was not cleaned out. And..so that in the morning the floor had a steady stream of ants into both the dining room and the pantry, and the baby's highchair was covered in ants having a hay-day eating all of his dinner leftovers.
I wanted to make Husband breakfast in bed. But after I got up, he didn't stay in bed. My next attempt was to at least make him breakfast. I tried to start cooking but after the ants were discovered my efforts went to cleaning up the ants out of the high chair and Husband cooked his own breakfast. So, I resigned myself to making a green smoothie for The Princess and Jack (my two heaviest children). It was with spinach, strawberries, bananas, Greek yogurt and plant based chocolate protein powder. Seeing the carbalicious breakfast Husband was making for everyone else, both Jack and Princess balked at having to drink green smoothie. Husband jumped in and told them that they could have eggs if they finished it. (OK, kinda missing the point of calorie reduction, dear). Princess only drank half of hers. Husband took a portion of Jack's and together they finished it. But, it wasn't without much complaining, grimacing and exclamations of "GROSS!" ...from Husband. (OK, not helping).
My frustration was that I had spent a significant amount of money over our normal food budget this week and everyone just wanted to throw their food away and have something else. (Look, people. I'm really trying to feed you healthy, nutritious, enjoyable foods here. If you don't like it, just muscle through what I've given you and we won't make that unpleasant recipe again. But don't waste food.)
I got upset, shouting, "IT'S ONE FREAKING MEAL!!!" Husband left for church angry and on top of everything I was asked to play the organ last minute. So I'm supposed to play songs I've not had time to practice? Fabulous.
I reminded myself that, "Today is Father's Day and you're doing a really crappy job of making this special for Husband. Suck it up. Smile through it. And apologize for making his morning miserable." When I got to church with the littles I went up to him, smiled the best I could, apologized and then went to work on the organ prelude.
Husband suspected something was up, but I denied that anything was wrong, smiled and took the baby with me to Relief Society (despite his protests) so that I would have my squishy to love while still feeling raw on the inside.
When we got home from church it was time for lunch. Given our rough breakfast (weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth) I decided that maybe it was just better for everyone that I stop trying to portion control everyone. Rather than have my normal lunch, I drank the rest of Princess' smoothie from the morning. I encouraged everyone to have whatever they wanted. When I saw Jack going back to pick out more meat, I encouraged him to do so. We went out to the knack box and I offered him chocolate. In both cases he looked at me like I'd lost my mind (...incidentally....) but rather than choose what I'd prefer for him, he continued eating like he normally would when unchecked. I think his ultimate preference is to just eat whatever the heck he wants and not have me say anything about anything. He's 12 and weighs 185 pounds. Totally my fault. I let his meals slide and he went to carbs and cheese, because it's what he knew how to prepare.
I asked the kids what cake I should make for Father's Day. Husband insisted it was too much work, so I suggested the boxed brownies that has been his favorite go-to for FHE.
Husband wanted to talk it out seeing that my behavior was so different than my usual hyper-active-health-nut food Nazi. I smiled, but he interpreted that as my laughing at him on the inside and just got mad. The complaint was, "I know when you're legitimately happy."
Husband asked what I needed from him. "I need you to provide for our family, which you are doing wonderfully. I need you to put your dirty clothes in the hamper. I need you to play with the kids and interact with them."
He wasn't satisfied.
Husband asked what I didn't need from him. "Well, I don't want you to go to nudie bars, use drugs, stay out all night, drink alcohol". Since he already doesn't do any of those things, he didn't seem satisfied with that answer either.
I smiled as best I could, which only seemed to aggravate him more. Then I could see it in his eyes: I give up.
So I conceded and said, "Look, I'm trying here. I'm trying to make the best of it. Lemonade out of lemons. Not freaking out about little inconveniences like ants in the house. I don't want to fight the kids on their food. They're going to have to want to make good choices."
This new insight seemed to make him feel better. Although I didn't point any fingers of blame except at myself, he self-convicted and pointed out all the things that he did wrong that made for an awful morning. He agreed to work with me on the food and asked me to not give up on the kids. I needed to help them despite their push back and he would help me.
Dinner was portioned out and everybody was happy. But I was emotionally exhausted and even though I'm trying to stay on my own diet (Dr. Simeons' hCG) I ate the left over Cool Whip Free that didn't go on our fruit bowl desert. Then I ate the fruit the children didn't finish. Since I'm on a roll here I might as well take a handful of chocolate and just finish my binge on a happy note. But it seemed that Husband didn't like that I took the chocolate. He let me, but interpreted it as my own personal fit. I suppose in a way it was.
So we went to bed. He didn't want to talk. He was withdrawn and only told me that he was tired. He wouldn't specify. Just tired.
I get it. You're tired of my swings. So am I. I'm constantly putting you on an emotional roller coaster. It's not fair. I can't help it. I'm trying. But it's not good enough.
At some point they're all going to get tired of me. Tired of the outbursts over stupid stuff. Tired of the swings.
I really think that as I get older my brain will disintegrating into Swiss cheese of mental illness. What I'll have in the future is not only more of the same, but much worse. Fabulous.
So at some point they'll decide I'm too erratic. My children won't want to be around me. My husband will leave me. I'd rather just leave now and let them miss me then wait for the slow burn of my mental incapacitation to strip me of everyone I love.
How is this even fair? I'm supposed to be here to learn about mortality, choosing right and wrong, and I get this FUCKTABULOUS trial of being bipolar where my choices are driven by chemical imbalance. Congratulations! You get to reap the eternal rewards of impulsive decisions thanks, bipolar bear. You suck.
I am living with demons I cannot escape. I hate it so much.
Update: If you haven't already noticed... I get raging side out first and I come back and even out the emotional teeter totter blogging with the more rational side of myself.
Husband is amazing. That much is still true. He has told me that he is in it for the long haul. I need to just suck it up and believe him. Just because I would run away if our roles were reversed doesn't mean that he will. Let me clarify: If HE were screaming and trying to run out of the house naked into the middle of the street I simply do not have the physical strength to help him. If our roles were reversed it would be a real safety issue for our family. But, would I stick around if he got cancer? Would I stick around if he got dementia? Would I stick around if he were suddenly disabled? Yes, yes, and yes. It would SUCK big time. But, I am also in this for the long haul. This relationship is not just a convenient arrangement for this life, but an eternal one for worlds beyond this time and space.
My children also love me. They've seen me LOSE it. Not just once. But multiple times. And I'm embarrassed and regretful over EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. But the good news is, that since I have been on the bipolar medication I am not losing my crap over day-today life issues that are really just the inconvenient side of normal. So that's a good thing. FrostKnight is 14, but really he's just a adult-size child who still needs hugs, Eskimo kisses and reassurance. Princess looks up to me in ways that I will probably never realize or understand. She watches me. She emulates me. She LOVES me with a fierceness that I will never deserve. She is also scared for me that I will have another episode...and I GET it. But they love me and no matter what they WANT me.
Sometime in September while my delusions were building I lost my temper (again) and stormed out of the house. Everyone was balking at using napkins at dinner. I stood up. Threw down my napkin and walked out the front door.
I left my cell phone at home and went on a very long walk around several blocks in the neighborhood. I walked up to the green belt between the neighborhoods and walked in the moonlight contemplating going back or just running away for good. I noticed that my shadow was in front of me as I walked out along the path. As I turned around to retrace my steps back out of the greenbelt to start heading home I noticed that my shadow was once again in front of me. How was that even possible with the moon in the same position? At the time I had a thought that perhaps the Savior understood my frustration and was walking just behind me, to keep me company and give me encouragement. The light of his glory, though muted and veiled from my view, peeked through. It was a comforting thought. My shepherd was there when I needed Him. In reality it was probably the porch lights from the houses that cast my shadow in multiple directions and not Jesus Christ.
The house was locked when I got home. I went around the back and sat outside the living room window and listened to my family. The baby was crying because he was hungry and wanted to nurse. The children were looking for reassurance from Husband that I would come back. I didn't think that my walk around the block would cause them so much concern. I knew where I went. But they didn't. So I listened. What did they really think of me? Did they really want me back? When I couldn't stand hearing the baby cry anymore I went to the front door.
Husband took me into the garage, locked the door and yelled. I deserved it. He told me that he was done. His words made a cold dread surge through me. I stood there and took it. When he had purged his frustration, fear and anger he cried. Do you want a divorce? You can have it all. All I really ever wanted was you. I don't care about any of it. It's you I wanted. You and our family. But you keep walking out on us. The kids...they get SO scared and I don't know what to tell them. I didn't know if you were ever coming back. I told him I deserved his rage. I agreed that it wasn't fair to the children and it was never my intention to scare them. I wanted him too. He made me promise that I would never leave him again.
It has been an immature go-to response...to just up and leave when I get mad. And it scares them. People that I love. It SCARES them. It's not fair and it's not something that I should plan for, fantasize about or even consider. They will be up and grown and out on their own sooner than I realize. Husband will get old and sick and eventually succumb to mortality. THIS is not a permanent state of being. These stupid frustrations of life are not a constant. And running away never solved anything. Running away does not FIX anything.
So I will stay and thank God that I CAN. I will enjoy every moment that I have with my people. Oosa Bubas will not always head-but me when he wants kisses. Barron will not always want to kiss my nose before bed. Arcus will not always ask me to nibble his ears. Jack will not always let me give him back scratches. And Pumpkins will not always want me to sit by his bed and hold his hand as he falls asleep. But today they do. Today they are my littles. Today we are all together under the same roof. And today...that is enough.
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