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.