Tag Archives: coping

Leaving on good terms, but loosing an identity 

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A story of friendships and divorce:

This is a story about a once fun, outgoing girl who volunteered, gave her heart to a community she was a part of for 20+ years and divorce. Those she loved passed judgement without question when the word divorce reached their ears. Slowly friends felt they had to pick sides and stopped any interaction. Many made assumptions, some went as far as to look away and pretend not to see her. “How could she divorce him?” “He was a great guy, great father, never wavered, and supported her in everyway”. He had been with her since she was a teenager, “How could she leave a good man?” Her reasons were Her own, but being happy and healing wasn’t going to happen in Her marriage. They were and will always be best friend. The problem can quickly as news slowly spread, his life was his community and had become her community, she knew nothing else. 

She asked the same thing about the community she loved, why? Why had she become a outsider? It was a harsh reality. She wondered why the community she loved abandoned her.

The couple had chosen not to make a spectacle of a wonderful 20 year marriage. No vaguebooking, no fighting, simply be happy. They simply moved on and agreed to support each other. They had wanted each other happy. They wanted their children happy. Was it her Mental illness causing delusions? Was it her severe depression? Was it the deployment that came months after the legal preparations? Was it new friendships she had made since the separation? Soon people asked, the slow de-friending on social accounts. She simply wasn’t in the community anymore. She was left feeling abandoned, lost, and found herself in the shoes of those she’d helped throughout the years. 

Those she had forgotten as well.

So thats becoming my story. Divorce isn’t a easy decision. I find myself lost in my sickness. Struggle to live, work and stay active supporting my community. I struggle to not cry everyday. My life is a struggle. I am thankful to those who continue to reach out, those who love me even in my madness, those who are still my friends. 

To everyone else, you don’t know our story. Remember both of us involved. Remember our friendships. I’m Bipolar, it’s not contagious. It’s a debilitating depression with ups and downs. If you loved my ups, please love me when I’m down.
 

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“Did you take your meds?”

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   img_0030Sometimes as I have my coffee I start to ponder random thoughts and immediately hear the statement  “did you take you meds” in my head. A statement, I’ve come to strongly dislike but accept.  It’s one thing to battle my bipolar disorder as silently as possible but every day I hear that statement. I say something overly funny, “did you take your meds?” I say something brilliant, “did you take your meds?” I make a statement about my feelings, “did you take your med?” I decided I’m going to buy a zoo…..”did you take your meds?” Yes…yes…YES….well probably forgot not buying the zoo. But I hate people asking me when I’m not up or down. It’s like even in a normal state I can’t be normal. I know I have to take meds for the rest of my life.

Over the last year, it’s been a struggle to find a perfect cocktail, but without hesitation I take whatever they give me now to make everyone happy around me. I’m not “play with my shit nuts” off meds, I’m just extreme one direction or the other. My extreme up can be very self destructive, self gratifying, hyposexual, and I have super powers. Yes, super powers! I don’t have to sleep anymore, I can do what takes a normal human a week in a day. I can sing and I’ll probably tell you about that marathon I never ran or my mountain ski trip I never took. People love me, people want to do stuff with me because I’m fun and outgoing. I can shop like no other and give very charitably.  During my extremes I loose touch with reality. I am an over exaggeration of myself.

Now the dark side “the down”. So it’s true, what goes up must come down. And it happens for me like a switch. No one likes to talk about suicide or suicidal thoughts. Heck, I don’t even like saying it out loud to my doctor. I’ll just ignore or nod when she ask if I’ve been suicidal. So the “down” usually happens and feels like I’ve got the flu so I nap and become very introverted. I am sick, sick of my weight caused by meds, sick of being self destructive, embarrassed. Embarrassed is an understandment. I have to answer for all my actions that happened during my extremes and mania. I have to hear the stories, be the punchline of the joke, “and then it was awesome, she did (insert funny destruction)…..” Then look my children and husband in the face at the hurt and disappointed. I’m convinced the world hates me. I have no one, no friends. I convince myself I am only hurting those around me. That’s when that dark monster within convinces me everyone would be better off without me in this world. It’s selfish, but when you are down it’s actually pretty selfless. Your mind convinces you you’re saving everyone from the pain. It’s dark and I don’t want to really even talk about the bottom, but there is a bottom and it’s has a trap door called suicide. 

So did I take my meds today, yes! Is it always effective, no! Is it worth it, yes. I like my normal self. I realize I have purpose. I remember I’m a great balance between my extremes. The friends who were there during my extremes are usually the first to leave your side. I mean, I’m not super crazy fun and buying them stuff, footing the bill to be loved. I don’t need those people and in the end those are usually the trigger.

I have probably a couple of the greatest friends in the world. I may not see them for years at a time but they are the ones to call and talk to me after or before doctor appointment. They are the ones who ask, “did you take you meds?” That’s when it really clicks, they are not asking to remind me I’m crazy but because they like the normal me. 

Yes, I took my meds today.