Being torn with two seperate attitudes is fucking annoying. Last night I was able to clean the kitchen, prep the coffee, finish the laundry, fold 3 baskets worth, wash my face, brush my teeth, read and write a little before I went to bed. I woke up before my alarm around 5:45 and grabbed coffee and went back to the bedroom and watched the news and flipped through a magazine. I had my day planned in my head. I was awake, happy and prepared. I did Evelyn’s makeup and I did Savannah’s hair for school and I nursed the baby and let her play. Around 9:30 I started making the important phone calls for the appointments I needed. Things were going smoothly for me. I went out into the kitchen to get more coffee and retrieve my insurance cards and he decides to talk to me. Something about Facebook. And it hits me. I’m annoyed. I snap. I get short and retort that we aren’t friends, so don’t talk to me. I got my coffee and wallet and went back to my room to finish the phone calls and scheduling for myself and the kids.
I meditated today and gained some clarity. I took some quiet time to relax my entire body and tried to remain present, but it wasn’t working. I did eventually relax, almost fell asleep, but my mind wouldn’t relax. And after wading through all the bullshit that was clouding my mind, I came to a conclusion: I don’t like myself when I’m with him.
Gaining insight has helped me see that he’s no different than the selfish self-centered people he’s related to. He’s not special. He’s not different. He’s not better. He just has a different approach than the rest of his family, but it yields the same results. He has a lot of narcissistic tendencies, but when you’re in love, you tend to overlook those things, ignore the red flags, until it’s too late.
If marriage was a videogame, I might just get his attention. If our marriage had bosses and obstacles to beat and overcome. If gaining health, mana and experience points all mattered. If our marriage was a thing that had a power button or controllers to make our characters do what we need to survive and thrive the game. If only it came with a gamer’s manual and had cheat codes. If only the experiences were so vast that a terabyte storage was needed to store them. I wonder what the case cover for our marriage would look like. I wonder what the disc would look like, how many scratches it’d have, if its lost its shine, I wonder what the Game Stop value would be. I wonder what the graphics would look like and if it had replay value. Would you have to play it through to the end and win, or is it a long story, full of role-playing and worlds and there’s checkpoints and you’re able to save your progress? Is it a fun game, something you’d like to play for years, or easily get bored with it and leave it to collect dust on a shelf? Would you be willing to trade it in or ask for a refund if you had the opportunity?
Manic episodes suck.
I am not in my right mind and I make so many snap judgments and impulsive decisions that I cannot keep up with myself.
I should have anticipated it. I should’ve seen it coming. I knew it might happen, as the PDoc upped my Antidepressant by a double dose and within 24 hours, my ass was ridin’ high & happy on a hypomanic high. I felt it getting worse. I tried to reach out for help, but because I can’t always articulate things coherently while manic because my words come out louder and faster than my thoughts, I probably didn’t ask for help directly enough. And well, when you have a house full of enablers and deniers, it’s hard to say “no” and “stop” to something when the peer pressure from your own family is worse than that of your peers.
Friday morning I reached my peak. I hadn’t sleep for more than a handful of hours in the last week and I didn’t need it, I had the energy to power through my days. I could easily ignore the pain of my body because my brain was telling me to do so, and I listened. I impulsively asked for 4 bottles of wine and a pack of cigarettes at 10am…and Derrick, as much as I love him, he’s one of my biggest enablers, he went to the store and got me alcohol and cigarettes. It wasn’t even 3pm before my mother and I finished 3 bottles of wine and smoked a half-pack of cigarettes. My brother asked me if I’d run an errand with him and I was like “fuck it” *shrug* and went. Even though I KNEW he was going to buy drugs. I knew I was manic at this point, and I tried to reach out to Derrick for help. I texted him. I called him. But looking back now, I don’t even remember the conversation because I wasn’t all there. I was gone. But a part of me knew I needed to be anchored before I floated away.
I don’t even know what day we’re going on for things to not be right. Then again, things have kind of been off since like 2007. So I really shouldn’t be surprised that we’re at where we’re at. To think, I told myself last December that 2018 was gunna be my year of no and putting my foot down with shit that I’ll no longer allow in my life and to assert some boundaries.
It’s already April and I’ve failed that resolution miserably. My marriage is going to shit and we’re both apathetic about it. Parenting is becoming more difficult because the baby wants to act grown and the teenager is acting like a spoiled baby. My mother ended up moving back in, though she claims it’s “temporary” but with both know that’s a lie, just like I’m sure the whole bullshit her not being able to stay with my brother and his baby mama is utter bullshit because, let’s face it, they were tired of her shit. Trust me when I say she has the tendency to shorten everyone’s fuze. Then Friday, I received a call, er’ I should say my brothers baby mama called my phone to talk to my mother about my other brother being in the hospital in Fullerton. Without hesitation, I jumped in the car, called Derrick and asked him to find another ride home, I was heading to Fullerton. You know, basically doing the shit that NO one else would do for me. Turns out nothing was really wrong with him other than anxiety, overworking himself and sleeping in a stupid position because his stubborn ass would rather live cramped in a tiny ass car than be a man and sign a lease somewhere and pay some utilities like an adult. I played caretaker for 2 days until my patience ran thin. Did I mention he had a “roommate” in the car with him? Just..ugh. Sigh.
I’m sad and pissed off and lonely and missing Stephanie and I’m not coping well. But I’ll tell you one thing; just because she’s not here to play mediator for me and Derrick–doesn’t mean I’m gunna stand by and deal with shit that’s driving me fucking insane. So I’m gunna continue to write and to vent and it won’t be pretty. It’s my truth and I’m tired of hiding it behind a filter just so it looks acceptable online…
It amazes me just how wildly different 2018 is from 2012.
In 2012 we were a family of 6 crammed into a small 2 bedroom apartment. Struggling to pay rent and keeping the utilities on. But we had love and fun. It may have been cramped, but we’d spend hours laughing playing Just Dance on the Wii, walking to the park to have picnics, hikes up Mount Rubidoux, walk to the movie theater or Killarney’s and spend hours playing Rummy on the patio, or heading downtown and hanging out at Back to the Grind while I bravely stood up on the stage in that blinding light reading my raw personal prose and poetry to a room full of strangers, but it didn’t matter because love was there.
Settling. Compliacement. Competition. Facade.
How does anyone really know they made the correct choice for their relationship? You meet someone, your personalities mesh, you “vibe” and things sync. You fall in love and you move to either make things permanent or place meaning on it.
Life seems fantastic. You’re happy and in love. You wanna spend time with each other; but you still have the ability to be yourself–because being you is what made the other one fall in love with you and vice versa.
Tests come and you ace them with flying colors and you’re inspired to take things even further; engagements and marriages. And you weather storms as a united front and yet still have your independence.
Maybe eventually you decide that you have more than enough love to share and you think to yourself; having a little mashed-up version of us running around wouldn’t be such a bad idea.