Adultery · Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Cheating · children · Cuttings · Death · Depression · Divorce · Dysthmia · family · Infidelity · life · Loss · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Obese · psychosis · Self harm · Seperation · Uncategorized · Weight

Living with Dysthmia

As I open my eyes for the start of a new day, I am hopeful. I awaken with a chipper exterior and a life that cannot be contained. I envision the day, its stressors and beneficial highlights. I plan accordingly and seek all the positivity that this world can offer. The daily routine of applying make up to the gospel word, kissing my loved ones good-bye and driving an hour to work as I blast music the whole way through.

Enjoying the day with an extreme amount of enthusiasm all the while hearing the gnawing voice within. The one that creeps in when the end of the day is in sight. The anxiety builds and in a brief moment I think to myself, I miss him. I want to snuggle and feel his everlasting warmth, to kiss the smile on his lips as it forms. I naively think that he will be all the things I allow myself to envision and dream of.

A rude awakening always emerges itself in some form or another. A late night at the office, a text message or email from a male coworker or a misspoken word; can suddenly bring me back to the reality of my life.

My spouse has dysthymia.

He screams at me as I trudge in after a long night of work.

“Where were you?”

“Why did you not answer?”

“Who were you with?”

I plan a day at the gym with friends and it continues…

“You are easily influenced, so gullible.”

“You don’t need to work out”

“Just come home and eat and relax”

You find yourself “walking on eggshells”, never knowing what you will do to set him off.  What you will say that could potentially make it worse. Your feelings mean nothing and are laughable because his triumph all.

You coward when he screams afraid he will hit you. He screams profanity and anger at you. How can you even begin to reason with someone who has no perception of whats real. One moment he is the most loving husband and extremely apologetic; the next he stares at you with hatred that makes you wince in pain.

His depression, lack of self work and anger, slowly take over him and he no longer sees reason. He only sees his uncontrollable feelings.

When you love someone with a mental illness who verbally abuses you, it can bring pain and a sense of loneliness inside you. The fear of him hurting you is always there, the sadness that overwhelms me when all I hear are his hurtful words of how stupid and naive I am replaying in my mind. Living with him at times can be the most depressing and hostile enviroment.   I feel most of the time as if I am drowning. If I try to take myself out of the negative atmosphere, he resents my absence; if I remain in the environment he resents my presence. Nothing I say to reassure or comfort him helps and some how I manage to always fail.

He doesn’t see the names he calls me belittles me, He doesn’t know that he shames me, at times he doesn’t even care that his ballistic rage comes for very little cause. He can’t understand that his threats scare and intimidate me, that my feelings are being dismissed and even more so he doesn’t get that he’s trying to manipulate me because of how he feels.

He doesn’t see that he is abusive, he just knows how he feels. He knows he’s angry at me and so I must have done something to deserve everything that he does in retaliation.

With every day that passes by I always remember the nights I cried myself to sleep, the pain his words have triggered within me, the sadness I have developed within because of the opportunities I have let go of in order to not upset him. The joys I have set aside for maybe another lifetime because he needs me….

Somewhere in all this, I have spent so much time trying to lift his spirits and act according to his reactions, I’m not so sure if that extremely happy smile I bear is real or just another act that I have perfected so well over time, that I even fool myself….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I feel most of the time as if I am drowning. If is take myself out of the negative atmosphere he resents my absence, if I remain in the environment he resents my presence,

Adultery · Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Cheating · children · Cuttings · Death · Depression · Divorce · family · hypersexuality · Infidelity · life · Loss · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Miscarriage · Obese · parenting · psychosis · Self harm · Seperation · sex · Uncategorized · Weight

Silence

I shutter at the silent draft that creeps inside my room as it flows through the curtains leaving a tinge of frost in its wake. It’s a hint of days to come. I have felt it in my sleep, in my day-to-day life and within the very core of my being. I have stood at bay for all the cards to fall where they may.

Fall as they may, I have simply sat in anticipation, fully aware of what could come. Not entirely sure of how anything would pan out, I simply closed my eyes and hoped for the best. I begged for angels to keep on fighting for me, for reason to hold me up in a time when I needed it most. There were so many dreams, dreams of battles that begged and fought with resistance. A battle that can only by seen by me.

There’s an uncanny silence just before the dawn breaks. It’s like the eerie silence the moment right after the lights go out. Or the unimaginable silence right after you receive bad news. It stretches and yawns and pulls at your emotions and tugs at your heart. That’s the silence I have been in lately. In the Bible, that place is called Lo-Debar – The Place Of No Communication. Can you even imagine what thats like?

Sometimes in Lo-Debar, the silence is so loud it screams. Sometimes in Lo-Debar, the loneliness is so pungent it knocks the breath out of you. And sometimes in Lo-Debar the uncertainty and confusion can make you lose focus of the assignment, turn your back on the journey and run back into the comfort of the familiar, the mundane, the yesterday essentially.

I don’t tell them that I see demons. I don’t tell them that they appear in my dreams begging for control. I run always towards the light, I am determined to remain sane and whole.  They have no idea that through this pain and these tears , I remain vigilant. I remain calm and in those nightly adventures I seek faith. The random thoughts of ending it all and the struggle for purpose have never been so real.  I wont let this define me. Though I know no one could understand, it does not compel me into silence.

Today as I sit here in the pin-drop silence, I attempt to make peace. It simply means that I am seeing where I must go while not dwelling on where I have come from. This, I believe, is what is sometimes referred to as the point of perfect equilibrium or the pivotal point, some would would say.

Today I am in Lo-Debar.

You see Type 1 Bipolar Disorder doesn’t define the woman I am. It’s simply a symptom that I shall forever forego. I feel deeply, I hurt easily and I love intensely; flaws and gifts all in the same spectrum. The battle and  struggles I’ve endured against the devil on my shoulder (Mania)  have encompassed my reason.

I don’t want to swim these deep waters alone but I am doomed to eternal darkness. Now I can only imagine how dark this must sound to you, should you lack the understanding of a mentally ill mind. I never anticipated that my emotions and thoughts would run so deep.

I start my days with hope, ambition and optimism but when the mania hits, my day’s end out of breathe exhaustion and a never-ending to do list. I crave for a lower amount of energy but then I’m hit with disappointment , lack of energy and dissipating  joy. There is never a middle ground, I never feel normalcy only extreme amount of emotion. I truly believe that you must play to your abilities and so I have. I have played to my strengths and managed my weaknesses.

Mania has made me capable of accomplishments I could not have seen myself doing out of normalcy. Depression has brought the humbleness that I need to respect all that’s around me. I have received gifts out of my disabilities that I would have never known.

So the next time someone says ” Damn Tasha, Your crazy”. I shall smile and simply agree, for I m in Lo-Debar.

 

Adultery · Bipolar · Bipolar Disorder · Cheating · children · Cuttings · Death · Depression · Divorce · family · hypersexuality · Infidelity · life · Loss · mania · Manic · Manic Depressive · marriage · Miscarriage · Obese · parenting · psychosis · Self harm · Seperation · sex · Uncategorized

Psychosis: The Aftermath

“It is not heroin or cocaine that makes one an addict, it is the need to escape from a harsh reality.”

You know they never tell you how hard life can actually be. They explain bits and pieces as you grow up but they never elaborate on the details of what you may or may not encounter. Everyone is told that they can be anything they want to be, you are pushed to do your best and you walk through life with this ringing in your ears that life is your oyster. Until that fateful night when you feel pain, witness injustice and embrace tragedy.  All that I could be, stopped for me. I was diagnosed with Rapid Cycling Type 1 Bipolar Disorder (the worst kind) and with that came limits. Limits to what I could do, who I could be and the loss of control that I so desperately seeked. I’ve seen despair and all the triumphs that life enfolds but I have also seen the most beautiful moments that this world has to offer. I am compelled to dive into my depression or rise instantaneously into mania but there are moments that remain a memory. Moments that exist before the mania fully takes hold.  In that moment, I sense the uplifting joy, I recognize the enfolding happiness and suck in the wonders that this world offers.

I know that I’m happy, I know that the smells and sounds are intensified and that life is embracing me back. The music is liberating, the breathe of fresh air is intoxicating and the laughter around me is contagious.  I am conditioned to ask myself, what is the cause of my happiness? I am programmed to sense the beginning symptoms of mania but at this very moment I don’t care. This is the only moment that I am grateful to be like the average person. This is the moment that I can see clearly and enjoy my surroundings despite the realization of whats in-store. Theres a sense of peace and genuine happiness that not even I knew was possible. A weight that has been lifted as the stress of life’s struggles have been forgotten. Suddenly nothing seems impossible.

What a relief.

I drive with the windows down and the AC on, music blasting with all genres thats manifest strength and joy. I take in deep breathes that have never been sweeter. I take a passing glance at myself in the rear view mirror and see the beautiful, smart and ambitious woman I have become. I allow myself to suffocate in this moment; as this moment is always brief. This moment will evolve into full fledge mania. I am only hours, minutes or seconds away from losing full control of my emotions and in essence my mind. Eventually everything will intensify and become an overload of sounds, feelings and thoughts. Soon I will blast the music at an ear bruising rate, I will inhale cigarette after cigarette with no resistance and down red bulls as if they were water as I feel every emotion with an intensity thats unexplainable. The rapid thoughts that list the to do’s for today, tomorrow and next month. The feelings of happiness, insecurity and uncertainty mix itself within and I am simply a bucket of confusion.

In this moment though I try to slow down, I try to embrace the feelings that reinforce my present joy. I do not prepare for the storm; I simply bask in the ambience of simple pleasantries. Even the loneliness can be replaced with endurance, the insecurities can be replaced with self esteem and the anger can be replaced with pure humility. In this moment, I try to save myself. I wish I could always feel this way. I dream for a life where this feeling is the norm. I grasp at the feeling and watch it slowly slip away. I have lost control…..

The darkness protects you in a sense so that you are completely unaware. Some where inside of you, there are previews.Seconds really, where you can see from the passenger side. I’m frightened and I have no control but thats not what scares me. Its the way I feel, its the voices I hear and the delusional thoughts that I have accepted as fact. A day of severe grandiose behavior, unconventional spending and unlimited drinking mixed with a week of no medication have taken its toll.  I cant remember and what I do remember stops me in my tracks. The feeling of being untouchable, the words I scream out of unwarranted hatred. Somehow I’m barricaded in my room, theres bread, theres laughter and there are voices that say I am not safe. Yeah Bread, no clue why. Maybe that was my meal until help arrived. I couldn’t tell ya.

I awaken the next morning exhausted and confused. Where is everyone? Bruises and cuts on my face. Tons of calls that I have no recollection of. The last thing I remember was sitting with my husband and having a drink. I wasn’t drunk. I was sure of it. The next morning I am faced with the damage that I’ve caused, damage that I don’t remember and seems unreal. As I drive straight to my psychiatrist for help, I cry. My face is swollen from the tears. The shame and guilt have over taken me. I’m afraid. Can you believe it. I’m afraid of myself.

Im catatonic, there are no words or expressions. There is only silence. I faintly hear words such as psychosis, nervous breakdown and delusions/hallucinations. Its my first episode and its common with my diagnosis. Im prescribed stronger meds, spoken to about the next steps, reassured, followed by her warm embrace. I opt out of psychiatric care, I have to work. I call my mother and she tells me all the things I said the night before. She tells me she understands. She tippy toes her words in fear of causing me more distress. I get it because I’m doing the same. I try not to think, I try not to stress and I let go. I don’t want to fall again. I don’t remember but some how I survived. In that darkness, you are no longer you. I’ve read about it and it was something that happened to other people. Until it happened to me.

They never told me that my grandmother had many psychotic breakdowns, they never warned me that my mother had extreme OCD and mania. They never truly explained the seriousness of my fathers alcohol and drug addiction. No one ever assumed that I would inherit it all. So I sit here, wanting to embrace life but afraid of myself and whats to come. Holding on to my sanity for dear life. I pray that I never lose it again because I have lost a piece of myself. A piece that I don’t think I can ever regain. I can never be certain of my actions. I will never be confident in my emotions. I will forever questions my thoughts in fear that I should break. There is no cure. So how many more pieces do I have to lose before the Natasha I have come to know and love is no longer me?

Cause in this world, anything can hurt you and it can push you and then desert you. I cant let this steal my history. I still look the same as I stare at my reflection. I look the same but I’m not. I just cant stop living, afraid of what I will see and who I will be.

I just need to remember me.