I want to sleep.  It is all I want to do.  Sleep.  I wake in the morning, and want to go back to sleep.  I nap in the afternoon and after waking, can't wait for it to be bedtime again.  Am I really this tired?  Yes, but it is not a lack of sleep.  I want to sleep not because I am sleepy.  I want to sleep because I am tired of my life.  I want to sleep my way through it.  I want to be in a state blissfully unaware of the crap I have yet to figure out. (no, I am not suicidal)

What is wrong with Mr?  He FINALLY got checked out for his weird physical symptoms.  The tremors, the difficulty walking, the facial numbness and of course the two year long struggle with occasional E.D. Turns out the doctors couldn't find a physical reasoning behind the symptoms.  They tested his blood for every vitamin and mineral shortage or overage.  He was given a CT and an MRI, and a blood test for Myelin.  NOTHING was found to be out of the ordinary.  So now he is faced with how to deal with the fact that these symptoms are physiological.  If these symptoms are from Anxiety, how to manage them, without taking meds that will make him sleep so that he is incapacitated and unable to work.  The symptoms on their bad days make him unable to work.  Though they do seem to have settled down of late. We haven't spoken much about the decisions he needs to make.  What therapy to seek, if to seek any at all.  That should not be a surprise to anyone. 

Why

You ruined me.
I let you I know that
I had no idea the potential results
How could I know that no touch would compare
That no eyes could pierce no sigh could melt
No kiss could weaken no arms could warm and protect
As yours did for me
I let it happen
I opened myself up to you
I allowed feelings I had long ago shut away
Passion flowed
I had faced a dam for so long
You opened the gates freed me
My heat my lust were mine again
They were yours and you accepted them in full
I let myself feel safe around you
Wanted desired trusted
Then you left
You ruined me
I let you

Pussy vs. Balls

My best friend sent me a text last night asking "if dudes can say 'bros before hos'  can we say "twats before cocks"?  I say we gals start a movement.  Seriously, if that is how they see us, we should return the favor. 

So often you hear "grow a pair" or "you got balls"  or some kind of similar phrasing that links testicles to strength and bravery.  Even I have been known to use such colloquialisms.  But as I have been in the 'dating' scene for about a year now.... I have to say, these men need to grow pussies.  Those of us with them are brave and strong and sure.  We put ourselves out there.  Hoping we won't get hurt, knowing perfectly well we just might get hurt no matter what.  Men seem all too obliged to prove us right on the latter. 

I want to tell the men who have just stopped talking to me:  No good-bye, no argument, no "I'm not interested"  Or even "Um... whore, go away"  Usually I would say "grow some fucking balls and tell me"  but you know what.... I think they need to grow pussies.  Find the strength to be honest.  Disappearing messes with us more.... or is that your point?  You want us to sit and wonder what we did wrong?  Were you in a car accident?  Or are you just a complete fucking asshole?  To care so little for women is a disgrace.  It's emotionally abusive.  It's just mean and makes you look like a jerk.

I think it is a simple request I make when I start seeing someone:  if you are not interested, or change your mind, or decide to go back to your wife and kids, tell me.  I am not a shrinking violet.  I am not a dude with my dick waving in the wind and withering.  I am a woman, and I have the pussy you could have had.  But instead, you have balls, and THAT apparently makes you a fucking coward.

STFU

Mr is fully aware that my mother just broke her two month old titanium knee.  Mr knows that she was going into surgery.  I am not at home, I am watching a friend's kids.  I called Mr to give the most recent update on my mother.  He talked about his enjoyment of the quiet then shoed me off the phone so he could eat his dinner.  " I was just nuking my dinner when you called.  I'm kinda hungry... so I'm going to eat before it gets cold. "  Thanks for your concern Mr.  STU.

From my mom...

I meant to post this a while ago. Seems to almost be inappropriate under the circumstances... but here it is anyway. This is a copy and paste (with names changed to protect the 'innocent') from an e-mail from my mother...

.teach yourself to live like Mr is just a renter who pays the rent.  Treat him like someone who just lives there, kind of like it seems that he treats you.
One can sleep in the same bed with no connection......or get twin beds.  That way you can have air blowing on you in the summer and it won't bother him.
You can leave him notes as to what you want him to do so he can't say---I didn't know.
If you can detach yourself emotionally as much as possible and live your life as you would like.  Go have an affair......everyone needs emotional support and you are not going to get it at home.  You deserve to be loved.  Just be careful!
Am I really saying this???????????????

Reply

Forward

Been a few day.  Been kinda manic.

I met a man and I like him.  I shouldn't.  He seems to have hang ups that don't seem right to me. I will call him PJ.  He apparently used to be quite the racist.  SS lightning bolts tattoo and everything.  Those seem to be covered up now (haven't looked) but I met him through a mutual friend who is black.  He uses words I would never use.  I have never heard him use the N word, or the C word.  But have been told he has been known to at least use the C word.  The story goes that there is a transgendered in the group... He is on hormones to be She.  PJ more often than not uses the masculine name for Transgender than the feminine.  PJ called Transgender a Cunt.  Not cool man, not cool at all.

But PJ now will not talk to me.  He won't even acknowledge me.  Which is just dumb and immature.  Why do men have to be so dumb and immature?  He was a PJ in the Air Force.  He is a prison guard for the State.  You would think that he would be tougher than this.  Wiser.  Whatever.  He needs a big rack for all the issues he has.  And I don't want to sort them out.

fanfreakintastic

(this was written a week ago, and held in draft until now)

Mr couldn't get out of bed this morning.  He was too tired, too exhausted to do anything but call in sick and go back to sleep.  He slept until10 this morning.  He may have been awake earlier than that, but he stayed in bed. 
When it first became obvious that he wasn't getting up, I went to The Teens room to wake him for his shower and such.  He said he wasn't going to shower so he could sleep.  He walked himself to school.  I got Little Man dressed, got the boys lunches made, and headed out to commute Little Man to school.  After dropping him off, I headed to free wi-fi and got phone numbers for Mr's work and came home to see if I needed to call in for him.  I did not.  Mr was still in bed, and I watched TV.  Mr got up as I was readying myself for work.  We chatted for a bit.  When it was time for me to leave, I went to give him a kiss goodbye (as I always do) and he put his hands on my hips and tried to hold me there...but I backed away.  Am I cruel?  I do not want his affection anymore.  It always seems to me to be this forced action, or a desperate attempt to be what he thinks I want him to be. And I did want him to be that.  I fought for years for him to come out and be more affectionate, more passionate.  But he always said he couldn't.  Wouldn't.  So I stopped trying, stopped expecting, stopped wanting.  Started looking elsewhere. 

Even my mother as conservative and haggish as she can be, told me to go out and have an affair.  Do I take motherly advice?

I am working on my escape plan.  Trying to find work that will allow me to move out on my own.  It is a terrifying thought.  Leaving my boys.  But Mr is the one with a good income.  I wouldn't be making much more than $2,000 a month.  Not a whole lot for room, board, and kids.  The teen is less than a year from being 18 so he wouldn't be much of a factor in the whole custody thing.  But Little Man is only 6.  And a special 6 at that.  He is autistic.  Change of routine upsets him greatly.  I fear his reaction.  I truly do.  But I need to be less miserable so that I can enjoy my time with him and The Teen as much as possible.  Why does it have to be so complicated?

The impossible carrier

I know the following "illness" is not possible, yet I feel like I am some sort of carrier for Erectile Dysfunction. Five of the last six guys I have blown went soft in the middle of it.  At least two of them were kind enough to try to explain it wasn't my fault.  And even though that is sweet, the odds are against me.  Five of six is...83%. ( I googled that shit, as bad as I am at giving head, I am worse at getting math)  Uh... it looks like I'm bad at blow jobs.  The one of the six that did not go soft said "there is nothing wrong with your technique"  So, it's them, right?  Is ED really so prevalent?   For one guy, it happened only once, and he admitted it was the sudden realization of who was pleasuring him.  One was always drunk....another guy, no excuse, nor recognition of the problem.  Most recent said he wasn't feeling great before it, and was concentrating on not feeling horrible.   Then there is Mr.  He blames stress, medication, age, multiple sclerosis (which he prob doesn't have) or any number of other things.  He will not get it looked into.  He can't even tell when he loses his erection.  That can't be good.  We are in the middle of sex.  I am giving him my all....and he loses it.  Gone... and he doesn't know.  I don't know if that is ok or not.  I don't think it is.  The problem frustrates him... but he won't get it looked at.  The problem used to scare me.  It doesn't anymore.  I don't have the energy for him and his ways anymore. 


It is really hard to not feel like you are failing at something when you have negative reactions 83% of the time.  And though I know the ability to blow someone to orgasm should not be the basis of my self esteem.... it sure doesn't help. 

So the loss of Mr's erection in the middle of sex happened last night.  This has happened countless times in the last two years.  But last night... he lost it, and I asked, "did you seriously just lose your erection?"  he said "Did I?  I can never tell"  he had.  So disengaged the sex and laid next to him.  I got up to pee and when I came back to bed, he got up, got dressed and went outside for a cigarette.  I went to talk to him.  I knew he was upset.  But I had no words of comfort for him.  He said he hardly knew who I was anymore.  He said I was seeming out of control  He is stressed to the max at work.  He is really struggling with it.  I said "And having a crazy wife isn't helping".  He said "I was trying not to say that."  well, if it's true, say it.  Problems can not be solved if they are not talked about.  Hold it all in and it will tear you apart.  Tear us apart more than we already have been.  But whatever.  He hasn't been able to talk to me for 18 years.  Why should he start now.

Symptom or trigger?

Does it really matter?  A lack of good restful sleep.  It can cause a hypo-manic episode.  It can also be a symptom of said episode.  Either way, the two go hand in hand.  So if I find myself not sleeping well, I check my mood.  Am I getting ill again?  If my mood seems out of whack, I look at my sleep pattern.  The stupid thing is, it doesn't do anything for me to check these things.  I am tired and hypo-manic.  The only thing my knowing those facts means.... is that I know these facts.  The knowledge doesn't alleviate the the lack of sleep or the mania.  Time is the only thing that does that.  Though, knowing I am 'Ill' again means I can tell people I am ill.  Other people knowing I am sick, I think, helps them to forgive me.  Forgive my behavior.  Forgive my grouchiness.  I don't think it really helps them to not be hurt by my actions, but at least they can blame my illness and not me.  Well, a bit anyway. 

The foe with no name (except it did have a name)

I am a cheater and a liar.  I try to be honest, but it has usually gotten me nowhere but in trouble.  So... fuck it.  Lie to get what I want, avoid what I don't want.

I don't want to spend time in the house just to be ignored.  I am not saying that I must be the center of attention, ick.  But I would like to feel.... I don't know... enjoyed at least.  Mr has a routine for everything.  The mornings getting ready for work.  The evenings when he comes home.  Night time when it's bed time for Little Man, and even later when it is Mr's turn to go to bed.  Between each routine, he sits at the computer and reads forums on old tools.  I am sure there are other blogs and forums that he reads, but mostly just old tools.  He checks out his facebook... and plays Spider Solitaire.  If I try to bring up a conversation with him, I have always felt like I am just an interruption.  Whether this is how he feels about it or not is, of course, unclear.  So, I lie and say I need to go out to do some writing, or I am going to my support group, or going to hang out at my BFF's.  Only to try to see another guy.

In 2010, I started spending more time with a guy I have known since The Teen was in Kindergarten.  Always liked the guy.  He was gruff, and funny, and warm, and different.  He also had a great laugh and piercing blue eyes.  Q's marriage was in trouble.  I couldn't believe it.  They had always seemed so happy.  They had recently taken a family trip across the country for a family reunion.  Turns out, she was texting her extra marital through the whole trip.  At the time, I thought she was bitchy.  How could she not want Q?  But she didn't.  There was something missing, and she wanted or needed it enough to seek it from someone else.  Now I get it. I don't know what she wasn't getting or what she found, but I get it.  Q and I kissed.  A little peck on the cheek, then on the lips...and eventually, those kisses on the lips lingered and became almost painfully desired by me.  The first time Q and I truly sat together and kissed and cuddled, and let our tongues seek out and find each other's.  I whimpered.  It was... embarrassing. It was...awesome.  For 15+ years, my marriage was made up of routines that ruled every aspect of Mr's life.  Waking up, going to work, breaks at work, coming home... EVERYTHING... yes, including sex.

Q showed me that it didn't have to be routine.  That I could feel wanted.  It was amazing, and terrifying, and exhilarating, and wrong in how right it felt.  I was more comfortable with him than I can remember being with anyone.  Even Mr.... even in the beginning.  But reality set in, and Q started feeling guilty and left me.  Alone, in a passionless marriage.  We never had sex.  Q wouldn't let it get that far.  We had been planning an overnight out of town.  He walked away a week and a half before that.  We might not have had sex, but the damage was done.  I knew that I was a desirable woman.  I knew that a guy could want me enough to push me up against a wall and kiss me deep and hard.  It was possible for a man to accept my desires and feel confident enough to show me his.  It really was a very heady experience.  Q closed to door on us, but opened the flood gates for me.  I wanted to be desired like that.... mostly by Mr.  I tried again (and still) to bring out such openess with Mr, but he just wouldn't let go and relax or have confidence.  I learned so much from Mr that winter.  It caused me despair.  I wanted passion, I wanted connection, I wanted true intimacy. I couldn't get it.  Mr couldn't provide it.  "I have asperger's.  I can't...." "you're asking me to change the core of who I am"  "I think you are judging me against every other lover you have had..."

Wait... WHAT?  Are you KIDDING ME?  Is this why you are so shy in bed?  Is this why you seem to drift off to some other place when we are having sex?

"yes"

And you have felt like this all along?

"yes"

YOU SON OF A BITCH!  All these years that I have been trying to connect with you, trying to draw you to me.... asked you what was wrong, where you were going in your head.... and you said 'i don't know' you were lying?  You knew?

"yes"

FUCK YOU.
I was furious.  I was fighting a battle that he knew the name of, and hid it from me.  He was afraid I would leave him.  He didn't trust me.  He says he did, does... but I said, "if you knew what was going on, didn't tell me because you thought I would leave you, you didn't trust that I would try to work it out.  You didn't trust that I would stay.  You don't trust that I love you"

"But I do trust you.... I trust you love me"

"your actions say something completely different"

I am still furious.  He knew the answer to a 10 year emotional battle and kept it from me.  Watched me try desperately to work it out, figure it out, connect with him.... all the while he knew what it was, and just watched me flounder.  I realize (and try to be compassionate) about the the fact that this is all his insecurity.  But ... it feels like he was gaslighting me.  It feels like abuse.  It is abuse.

Insecurity.  The foe's name that I didn't know but he did.

Planning for Disaster

We are upside down on our home.  So many Americans are.  Our problem stemmed from Mr. going on disability last year.  There was a delay in income, and we were not able to pay the mortgage.  Apparently, you can't just not pay for a couple months and start paying again.  We have been trying to do a loan modification.  Of course it is with BofA and it's a royal pain in the ass.  Mr. has a plan, and I don't like it.  I don't want any part of it.

The disability was due to Mr. having some type of 'episode' in which he could hardly move or talk or comprehend anything.  One time in the ER, he could not move his body at all.  His muscles were rigid.  The doctor tried to bend his legs and got annoyed with Mr. when he wouldn't move.  Mr. tried to tell Doc that he couldn't help it.  I don't know if Doc took him seriously.  I talked about that incident at my bipolar support group and was told that Mr. had gone catatonic.  Mr. was put into IOP (intensive outpatient program) for six weeks.  Hence..the disability.  Mr. was anxious, unfocused, had leg muscle problems.  He tuned out more that usual (if that's even possible) I worked my cafe job.  I took care of the kids.  I tried to be as gentle around Mr as possible.  Mr. blamed the medication he was on.  Antidepressants.  They can cause problems for many people.  At one point, Mr. went suicidal.  He left the house while I was in the shower and headed for the railroad tracks.  He left his keys, his cell phone, his wallet but took his driver's license. I called friends, I called the police.  I was scared.  I pulled The Teen from school to stay with Little Man while I looked.  Many police officers arrived.  Srgt Faulkner was awesome!  He was compassionate, but honest. He read the suicide note I had found in Mr's journal and told me is was frightening.  The possibility that Mr was suicidal was extremely high.  He actually told me to prepare.   He took to The Teen which was nice.  i Called his therapist and left voice mail.  I called my therapist and left voice mail.  Eventually the hospital called.  Mr. had checked himself in.  Relief abound!  Officer Cooper went to the hospital to meet Mr. and recommend a 72 hour hold. I went to see Mr.  He asked me to go home and prepare him for the 72 hour hold he was willing to be committed to. I went home and did that.  My sister drover up to be with me.  Friends had gathered but gone home when Mr. was reported safe.  I was able to sleep.  In the morning, I prepared for meeting Mr at the mental facility.  Then I got a phone call.  Mr was being released from the ER.  he would not be going on 72 hour hold.  "WHAT?"  I met Mr. at the hospital and was aggravated by the fact that no one called me to see if I felt comfortable with him home.  No one asked if I felt like I could keep him safe.  I became so angry that I had security called on my to escort me off campus.  I was still yelling as I walked through the parking lot.  I was told that I needed to listen to them and leave or face being arrested.  I turned and said " I am leaving.  I AM listening to you!  No body is listening to me!  No body asked if I was ok with him coming home!  Did you know that he had been admitted previously for suicidal thoughts?  Did you know that he left the house while I was in the shower?  Did you know that he left a suicide note? "  The doctor admitted that he did not.  I said..." Well, you would have, IF YOU HAD TALKED TO ME!" The doctor reiterated that Mr seemed to be in his right mind.  I was sure he was no longer suicidal.  He was safe... I left.  There was nothing else to say.  As Mr got up from his viewing spot on a wall, hearing all I had said, he walked ahead of me and said that I could just drop him off somewhere.  "Don't be ridiculous" I told him.  Then Little Man's teacher called.  He was having a hard emotional day and his teacher was asking if I could help calm him down.  I did.  Then took Mr home.  He had a psych appointment alter that day and asked if I would like to attend.  I said "Of course".  On our way, I had him stop at my work so I could tell my boss I couldn't work my shift that night.  He was very understanding.  Mr, not so much.  He didn't understand why I felt the need to baby sit him.  I said I didn't think it was fair to leave The Teen home with him, as The Teen was very scared and worried.  As was I.  Mr became almost enraged.  I didn't want him home because I don't love him.  Why couldn't I  believe that he is in his right min?  "Because you are claiming I don't love you.  That I don't care about you, that I don't want you in the house.  And though I understand why it seems I don't WANT you in the house, it is that I don't feel like you are safe.  That's why I can't believe you are in your right mind"  All kinds of horrible things were said while he was "in his right mind"   He didn't understand that I was having a hard time accepting that in lest than 24 hours he went from walking to the railroad tracks to end his life... to being perfectly emotionally and mentally stable.  He didn't understand why I was still scared.  He blamed his drugs.

At the appointment he went in, I was kept out.  Then I was invited in and told "Though we believe he is safe, we also know he is really fragile.  You need to do your best to avoid stress, be reassuring" Be there for him. I felt too responsible for his well being to ask the hard questions.  So we left.  Later that day, I called his therapist and asked if she knew he had been admitted for suicidal thoughts before.  No, she replied.  Were you aware he had written a suicide note?  No, she replied.  Of course  not, because no one talked to me.  No one asked me what I knew or how I felt.  My kids were scared.  The Teen understood what was going on, he was old enough, aware enough.  Little Man, well he is first grade in a CH room.  Communicatively Handicapped room.  He saw all the police cars and their officers at our house.  He was taken to my BFF's house so he wasn't there for all of it.  He didn't know what was happening, but he knew there was extra stress in the house.

After I called Mr's therapist, she contacted him and told him of my concerns.  He knew them already, I had screamed them at the doctors in the ER.  Mr sat with me and asked again why I couldn't just let it go.  I told him that my world had come crashing down around me.  It was going to take a little time to rebuild it.  I told him that he had been getting worse and worse emotionally, and because of his Asperger's and his inability/lack of desire to share anything like that with me, I had no idea it was happening.  I felt guilty.  But I was also angry at the Asperger's.  I was terrified that if it happened again.  To which he again said it won't it was just the medication... I would never know if he was getting sick again.  He never changes.  He gets upset, sure, but we all do.  But when his mind is racing with negativity, he will never express it.  Will never be able to.  It's been six month since he walked away to find his death.  I haven't healed fully yet.  I don't know that I ever will.

Fucking great

Mr is getting transferred.  Everyone in his department is.  They are moving to a building in the middle of effing nowhere.  He used to ride his bike to work.  This will no longer be an option.  The ability to walk across the street for a coffee and a snack, doesn't exist at the new building.  This is his second reassignment in two months.  The first one was because the project he'd been working on for almost five years was killed.  Now it's because his whole department is merging with a bunch of other departments.  He is not happy with where he will be going.  It's not just the location change, but the job change as well.  He will be in a very people oriented position now.  He will be on the phones answering questions from pushy people, angry people, anxious people.  This is the absolute opposite of the type of job an Aspergian should have.  His stress level is already so elevated, and he doesn't start the new job until next week.  His stomach was in knots.  He was shutting down and shutting out before he even got home.  All the isolation problems we have now, will elevate to unbearable levels, and soon.  He has the opportunity to take an IT position.  It would be a $550 a month pay cut.  He said he didn't want to risk making the whole family miserable by losing so much pay.  I told him, stay at this new job, and you will make us all miserable.  Of course he responded with something like "yeah...but".  Whatever.  There is nothing I can do.  He will either apply for the IT position or he won't.  Either way he decides, there will be some emotional prepping I will need to do.  I have been looking into full time State work.  One paying app $2,000 a month.  If need be, that should be enough to allow me to move out.  I just don't feel it anymore.  I just don't.  I wish I did.  But I have no interest in intimacy with him at all anymore.  It's been building up for a while, but I am starting to think that the worst of it came when I found out about The Teen no longer being a virgin.  I will have to ask The Teen when the shit hit the fan on that one.

So now I am at a coffee joint sipping an espresso drink, and posting.  I have so much to say, so much to sort out... and not doing well with any of it.

Boys... they will fuck you up.  That was the phrase that pays for me and my best friend today.  I am in such a funky state of mind lately.  I want to write more...but I am tired.  I will try to post more tomorrow.

What is a Leveled Wave?

My emotions come in waves.  Waves of happiness and sadness.  Agitation and calm.  Depression and hypo-mania. 
Mr. has Asperger's Syndrome.  No empathy.  Difficulty picking up on social cues.  No (or seriously few) mood swings.  No waves of emotions.
Because of this, my emotional waves are very upsetting to him.  He doesn't understand them.  Nor do I fully understand his lack of empathy, or his lack of comfort with eye contact.
Last year, I sought psychiatric help for depression.  I was handed the diagnosis of bipolar disorder.  And I was given medication to calm my brain away from going hypo-manic.  This caused depression, so I was given an anti-depressant.  This balanced my brain.

My emotional waves were leveled out with medication.

Leveled waves.

Yes, that's my brain scattered on the floor.

I don't like to mess things up.  I know...no really enjoys it.

But when I do stupid stuff on a regular basis...I get really frustrated and at times rather agitated.  At the cafe, I would regularly forget how to make the house salad.  Really? 

On Saturday, I went from one birthday party (for a seven year old) to another one for a 16 year old.  After the second party, I was to go pick up a computer and take it to the theatre where I was to run sound.  Did I remember to get the computer first?  No.  Does the sound run off the computer?  Of course it does. I had to run back for the computer, run back to the theatre, and had a mere 10 minutes to set up the computer and test the sound board (and pee).  Amazingly enough, I got through the show without screwing up.  I got minimal sleep last night, and had to drive half an hour to get my kid, go to breakfast and get to the theater.  We were 10 minutes late.  No biggie.  Get the cash drawer ready...and at the end of 'my shift' I counted out the drawer and was $56 over!  I know I suck at math, but really...?  The only thing I can figure is that I forgot to enter some of the sold tickets into the excel. (which I HATE).  But I feel stupid and am embarrassed.  I was supposed to stay and watch the show, but was so furious with myself, and embarrassed, I came home, changed and sent Mr. to get the teen from the show and drive him to practice.   I know this would be a minor irritation for most people.  But it really pissed me off.  I am not dumb.  I am not typically a flaky person.  I am punctual.  And when these things fail me, I feel like I have failed those around me.
Mr. listened to what I had to say about being mad... and said "Sorry".  And just continued on his way.  It is so frustrating.  For him, that is HUGE sympathy.  To me, it feels hollow.  I KNOW for him it is big, and I know it is hard and I should be happy he expresses anything at all...but after 18 years.....
 The other day, I was thinking about my behavior.  The way I answer texts and questions.  The answers are very brief.  "what are you doing?" "watching dumb TV"  and that's it.  I don't follow it up with "What are you up to?"  Or "wanna come watch dumb tv with me?"  After all these years of trying o draw Mr. out into the empathetic and social world, and feeling like I have failed... I realize that in many ways, I have allowed myself to get drawn into his apathetic way of being.  I don't like it.  Not one little bit.   Instead of finding him, I lost me. 

Let's start here...

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder just over a year ago.  I say it that way because I often question whether I actually have the disorder or not.  Until the day I was diagnosed, I thought that I was just moody, and what the hell is wrong with that?  I mean...seriously?  Doesn't every one (having failed their biology final) freak out and throw their sandals across the Rose Garden... go pick them up, throw them again in some kind of twisted fetch/golf game?  All the while, your boyfriend is running after you saying "what is going on?"  Oh, they don't?  Ok, what about getting bored and alphabetizing whatever you can in the house.  Music discs, DVD's, Spices.  Can't alphabetize the books.  That would upset the husband.  (but since the cook books are mine...Mwahaha!)   How about the time I got a roll of paper towels, a bottle of ammonia, and a nylon scrub brush and spent four hours on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor one square at a time.  How else was I going to get the grease and dirt out of the stupid little pox marks in the linoleum? DUH!  To this day, I still don't see anything wrong with the alphabetizing and scrubbing of the floor.  Sure, the floor thing started at 10 at night.  But DAMN that floor was CLEAN!  Of course the husband didn't notice when he got back from his business trip. Which peeved me. When he left on that trip, he kissed my cheek as he took his bags from the trunk of the car, and then just walked off.  No.."I'll miss you" nothing.  It was the first time he was going on a trip, and he was flying from one coast to the other.  He was gone for three days, two nights.  When I went to pick him up from the air port, I dressed up.  Summer dress, wedge sandals, make-up.  He just greeted me with a 'hi' and a peck on the cheek...again with the cheek.  Between the lack of passion when leaving or coming home, and his lack of acknowledgment of the sparkly clean kitchen... I went from energized and happy and productive, into fatigued, irritable and lazy.  I always got the absolute needed done.  Wake up, get the kids ready and off to school.  Usually get dinner made... but that was it.  Laundry? Bathroom?  Nope.  Couldn't muster it.(more on the husband later)

So, when I was diagnosed, I didn't believe it.  Until I looked back on my life.  My manias are called hypo-mania.  A lesser than Patty Duke Astin manic episode.  This makes the diagnosis "bipolar 2" Mania is less dramatic, and wider spread.  But the depression is worse, longer.  What I have yet to figure out, is where the "normal" comes in.  Is there a normal?  If I am happy, am I sick?  If I am depressed am I ok?  What is normal?  Have I ever experienced it?  Has ANYONE?

Where are my balls?

My friend recently wrote a blog entry that inspired me.  The bravery she showed, baring her life and soul for us all to see, was awesome.  We had been friends in childhood.  We experienced our fears and joys together for a couple years.  I had never been more comfortable than I was with her.  We grew apart, went to different schools, and then facebook reunited us. 

Her blog post "what domestic abuse looked like to me" sent chills down my spine.  I knew things were bad, but I didn't know how bad, or for how long.  Still, I was inspired.  Not because my husband is physically abusive.  He is not.  This is not a denial.  He has never hit me, nor has he threatened to.  However, I have hit him.  Once.  Exhausted and in postpartum depression, I shoved him away from me while we argued. 

Katie exposed herself in a way I may never have the nerve to.  I commented on her blog "Again with the bigger balls than me" 
So here I am, about to perform a legal form of self exposure. 

You, the reader have been invited into my cathartic experience as a blogger.  Good luck.