Once you get past the hurt…

Okay, so my ex texts me. Drama! I know I am a pain in her ass, but I also know that my intentions are in the right place, so when she texted me with her angry words I just got pissed off. She meant to get to me, did it on purpose. I let her. That’s the sad part. Well, that and she knows what buttons to push. So I’m about to start seminar for biology class, have my textbook on the desk with my pen and paper, and am ready…and buzz!!! my cell phone and it’s her sending me a text message. Only once I read it my blood pressure shot up. I wasn’t hurt, I was pissed. And not just mad, but shittin’ (as the people in the “south” say). But I calmed myself down, so I could talk rationally, or text rationally I should say. Oh! What did people do before texting, before cell phones, before computers, and television, and books on DVD? Hmmm!

So I realized after I got off the cell phone, from texting and then talking (or semi-yelling) that I needed to just STOP! I don’t want drama in my life. I don’t want arguing. I don’t want the bullshit. I am single now. I don’t have to put up with anything that I don’t want to, anything that makes me miserable or unhappy or even agitated (unless it’s because of work, my kids, family, or something of my own choosing). But I had to take an anxiety pill, which irriated me even more.

So now it’s a few hours later and I am calmer so I can actually talk about the thoughts that cycled through my brain. And, WOW, there were a lot of thoughts.

First off, once you get past the hurt there is a small spark of anger that begins to settle in. Once the spark is lit, it grows into a flame. At least that is how it seems to be with me and quite a few people I know. I am not pissed off that we aren’t together. I am not even pissed about the drama from earlier, or the fact that she moves on after the end of a relationship with quickness. And I am not jealous or hurt. I am plain old angry with myself. Angry that I kept going back. Angry that I tried so hard and it wasn’t appreciated. Angry that I wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t do things well enough, that I never seemed to meet her expectations. Angry that I felt like I couldn’t do anything right, not in her eyes, and eventually I began to see myself that way. What’s the most fucked up thing is that she is a smart, talented, compassionate, generous, passionate, interesting, beautiful person, but I guess we just brought out some of the worst in each other as well as some of the best in each other. Maybe it was too much of the worst and not enough of the best. I don’t know and I wont’ spend anymore time trying to figure it out. I have already spent a decade trying to understand it, change it, make it better.

I miss her friendship. That’s the truth. I miss her son, that is the truth. I miss some of her family members, that is the truth. But I don’t miss the arguing. I don’t miss feeling inadequate, rejected, abandoned, confused, hurt, or overwhelmed. Truth is, she told me on more than one occasion that my having bipolar was something she had a hard time dealing with, wasn’t sure she could, and I felt like that was my fault–made me wish like hell that I didn’t have it, that if I could just get rid of it…Like I have a choice?!? So I’m sitting in my study typing this post, after having done the rest of my homework for this week and started my homework for next week (our classes go from Wed-Tues), in my pj’s thinking that it really is time I stepped back completely, let it all go, even the anger, and just breathed a sigh of relief. The past is the past, I cannot undo what has been done. I cannot change the past, but I can live in the present, be prepared for the future, and remember the lessons of the past.

Single life…

Okay, so it’s Saturday night and I’m single, since the end of October, and I am at home. So far this evening I’ve done my Algebra homework (I take college classes online), checked my email and facebook, had my hair straightened (my daughter did this for me), made hot chocolate, folded laundry, watched video lectures for my biology class (and I still have a project to start and finish for this class), and checked the weather for tomorrow (we (me and my daughter) are going to visit my parents tomorrow). Fun! I am not a “club” person, I rarely drink and am not good at pool or darts so a bar isn’t really my cup of tea unless it’s to see a band play. Though I do like to dance, except it’s not a lot of fun dancing by yourself unless you’re in your own home with the music blaring…*smile!*

My thoughts the past week have been conflicted. I am ready to start socializing but have no real place I want to go to socialize. I would rather hang out with my daughter and watch television or a movie, read a book, do schoolwork, or finish organizing and/decorating my home (since I am now in my own place)…but that isn’t really socializing (I won’t meet any people and/or make friends hanging out at home). Ironically enough, my ex is out socializing, dating, hanging out…and I’m glad that she has friends she can socialize with, hang out, and who are there for her, but am really wishing right about now that I weren’t in a city where I have no family and no close friends, a city that I came to (got a job in, etc) because of her. I’m here, where she is (lives, works, and is from) and I have my daughter, my job, and a few casual friends. People have invited me places, but to the very places she goes (and I asked her about going to one of those places because a band I like was playing there and it didn’t go over well at all).

So here it is, Saturday night, and I am about to put on my pj’s and curl up with my hot chocolate and a good book. I begin reading Dan Brown’s the Lost Symbol tonight (after, of course, I read a chapter in my biology book). Some of the great things about being single are:

• I have lost weight.
• I dress nicer (probably because I feel better since I lost a few pounds).
• I read more.
• I have more time to do things for myself and around the house.
• I get the bed to myself, as well as the pillows and comforter.
• My grades are better.
• My daughter gets to spend a lot more time with me .
• I have more time for my family.
• I don’t have much drama in my life at all.

So, at the ripe age of 42, this single woman is going to change into her flannel pj’s, tuck herself into her red flannel sheets and white down comforter with a good book, and a delicious cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and fall asleep in the middle of the bed.

Life after a breakup

“If two people love each other there can be no happy end to it.” Ernest Hemingway

That about sums up how I feel right now. Not sure if I believe in happy endings anymore, I think happiness is momentary, just as sadness is momentary. Funny thing about love though, when you think you’ve got it all figured out there’s a turn in the road you didn’t count on.

Might add more later…

New day, new year, new(er) me

Ok, so it’s the last day of Jan and not the first, but I’ve never liked making New Year resolutions. Instead I try to think of myself as a continual work in progress. It’s ironic that I wanted to take this weekend to rethink some things…the last weekend of Jan instead of doing it when it was New Year’s…at first I didn’t think about the date, I was just thinking that I needed to make some more changes in my life. I’ve been on a roll the past few months. Since the end of Oct when I left my girlfriend (now my ex), and moved out–found a place in two days, moved in in one week. My daughter and I stayed in a cheap motel for a few days, stayed with a friend for a few days, and then were in our own place. Since then I’ve been slowly putting the pieces of my life together, or back together. The end of a relationship is difficult enough, but starting over (getting a place, furniture, etc) just makes it even more difficult. But I’ve done it. The first week of Nov we were sleeping on pallets, but we made the most of it. Now I’m in my study/office and it’s finally together (well almost, there are still things to hang on the wall, a couple of boxes left to go through, and one more bookcase to get), and my new classes begin Wednesday so I feel relieved. A place to study, do homework, etc, where I won’t be bothered by the television, etc. Though I have to say I will miss the sound of “family” that was at my ex’s house when I was doing my homework: laughter, tv, talking, etc…There are quite a few things I miss and things I find myself surprised to miss.

So, I’ve lost around 8 lbs or so. Almost 2 inches from my waist. I feel healthier. Am eating healthier. I have organized my home and feel like I am home. I have organized stuff for my upcoming classes. And am in the process of getting everything together so my daughter can go to college this coming August. She’s a senior in high school and will be going to Savannah’s Art College. She is extremely talented. She draws, sketches, etc–wants to be an illustrator. I am quite proud of the both of us. I am moving forward with my life in all aspects but one. And it’s this one aspect that I probably ought to be rethinking, but it’s more complicated than that.

So this new(er) me wants to really move forward, life moves on, the world moves on, and so should I, but I feel torn. Really torn. Love is complicated. I miss the days of my childhood when everything seemed simple, when things were much simpler. I’ve been on Facebook lately, and many of the people I went to school with are on there, have become my friends…It’s quite interesting. Sometimes I feel like the “where are they now” thing is right there on Facebook. Sort of like VH1’s “where are they now?” It’s surreal. But it’s started me thinking, not necessarily a bad thing. This June will be 25 years since I graduated from high school. Wow! It’s been that long. Where am I in comparison to where I thought I’d be back then? Who am I compared to who I was back then?

I was niave, gullible (am not as bad as I used to be), and thought I’d be married with children, a house, a dog, a boat, and Sunday dinners with family and friends; I wanted to go to college but couldn’t afford it (I didn’t know about the programs that were available back then) and become a journalist. I thought being an adult was easy. I thought being a parent was easy. I thought if I was “normal” I’d be happy. I wanted to write a novel.

I have two children (21 year old son and an 18 year old daughter). I have a 2-year degree. I am in college full-time. I work full-time as a manager of a finance company. I am single. I don’t have any pets. I rarely have Sunday dinners with “family” and/or friends anymore, though my daughter and I eat dinner together on Sundays, and will be going this coming Sunday to my parents home for dinner and hanging out with my son as well (he lives with my parents until he leaves to go in the Navy). I am majoring in psychology. Being an adult is not easy. Being a parent is not easy. I am anything but normal. I am a lesbian. I have bipolar disorder and anxiety. I am no longer a Baptist and am more agnostic than anything. I no longer live where I grew up and haven’t for quite a long time. (Though I do really miss the smell of the ocean.)  I am off all meds now except the anxiety medication. I am 50 lbs heavier than I was when I graduated from high school, though I was extremely tiny then…I am considered to be 20 lbs overweight right now (part of which is because of the medication I used to be on).  I still want to write a novel, and my daughter has been telling me a great deal lately that I really ought to write one…not just start one and trash it after I get to around 50 pages. So instead I’m blogging, doing the Facebook thing, going to school, working, eating healthier, and trying to improve my life by degrees.

I miss my ex like crazy. I want her back. I want to spend the rest of my crazy life with her. But I’m too intense (for her). Isn’t it supposed to be easier than this? Isn’t love supposed to be easy? I am not complaining, I know things are not fair in life, that love isn’t fair, that things don’t always work out no matter how hard you try, how much and how hard you love. But damn!

So I’m doing it one day at a time. And today I made a commitment to myself to remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day, that all Ican do is make each day count, do better each day, and keep trying. I won’t quit trying to make my life better, to make myself better. Things aren’t easy but they aren’t extremely hard either. I don’t have a bad life. Not at all.

Starting Over (again)

Once again I’ve started over. We’re off again. For a few months now. She’s “seeing” someone. Already. (Whatever “seeing” means.) And my daughter and I am in our own place. We’re finally getting things together in our place. My office/study is almost set up. Classes begin again on Feb 3rd so it’s good that the study is almost set up.

Over the past few months I’ve felt relieved, angry, hurt, sad, alone, lonely, scared, and now I am disgusted. Iwanted her back, more than anything, but my daughter was more important and I also needed to prove (to myself and) her that I could do it all without her. But I wanted her. I wanted to be with her. Now that she’s seeing this other woman I am disgusted. I love her. I miss her. I want her. But I don’t. I won’t. I can’t. I am ashamed. Of myself. Of her. Is it jealousy talking? No.

I don’t know if I’ll ever meet anyone else who makes me feel so much, so much passion, but I do know that eventually I’ll date again, eventually I’ll love again. Though I suppose I might need to get out the house, socialize some, in order to meet people.

Gay Bar Raids

During the past few decades homosexuals have gained a great deal of ground in regard to equal rights. However, in the past 3-4 months there have been two gay bar raids: one in Texas, and one in Georgia. For more information read this article:

http://www.thesunnews.com/weeklysurge/A-Gay-in-the-Life/story/1073673.html.

As I write this I am trying to finish an essay for my sociology class on homosexual rights, or the lack thereof. As frustrating as it is to read articles about more persecution regarding homosexuals, what is more frustrating is the fact that as a society we haven’t come much further than where we were at when the Stonewall Riots occurred in NY some 40 years ago.

As a society where are we going? What are we thinking? Are people really so afraid of what is different that they are willing to commit crimes against other human beings? Willing to usurp others’ rights? As a child, my family practiced the “it takes a village to raise a child.” My grandparents, aunts and uncles, and neighbors all had a say in whether I was respectful, well-mannered, my behavior, and teaching me things. If I did something wrong in front of my neighbor Mrs. Jones you bet I got a lecture from her and then she told my parents and I got in trouble at home as well. Now people barely know their neighbors names, but I bet they can tell you that the neighbor three doors down, with the red door and the beautiful lawn, is a homosexual or they are a homosexual couple. Just as in an all white neighborhood they can tell you that those “black people bought a house one street over.” But they don’t know the name of the person who lives next door or four doors down.

I am oftentimes ashamed when I remember that I am a member of the society that we live in.

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Awkward

Awkwardly I hesitate

Fidgeting, my hands

My legs, moving

While my voice

Is silent. One look

Turns me inside out,

Like a school girl

I am giddy, awkward

Stumbling over words

And my own feet

Reaching for intelligent

Interesting conversation

As passion consumes me

I look into her eyes

Relaxing long enough

To find my voice-

MB

Counter measures to prevent episodes

Last time I went to therapy she told me, suggested actually, that I work no more than part-time, especially while I am in college, and that it be a low-stress job. She said that once I graduate from college and go to work full-time it needs to be no more than 36 hours and it has to be a low stress job. Or I can go on disability if work is too much. The best way to prevent episodes is to reduce stress.

By the time I got home from that therapy session I was so upset, angry, and I felt utterly alone. I went out into the woods behind the house and screamed, “Why? Why the fuck can’t I just be normal? Why?” No one answered, nor did I expect any answer. All I could think about was the limitations. What the fuck? After years and years of getting past limitations because I had issues and poor coping skills I needed to work on, after finally becoming more self-confident, more self-aware, and after finally being honest with myself and ridding myself of the denial there are now other limitations. Limitations that can will affect my mental well-being.

There are times when I absolutely hate having bipolar, having a mental illness. I know that I did not ask to have bipolar, I know that it is not my fault and that I didn’t do anything to cause it, but damn! I am so tired of finally getting to a point where I feel like I’ve accepted things, where I feel strong and confident that I can have some kind of balance in my life and now if I don’t adhere to the suggestions I jeopardize my mental well-being.

Not to mention the fact that once you think about it there is no way to prevent stress in your life altogether. But in order to help prevent episodes I am going to have reduce the stress in my life as much as possible, which means working part-time while I am in college–but that means less money and very little financial security/stability. Once I am finished with college I can go to work full-time or almost full-time but it has to be a low-stress job.  It will be exceptionally difficult to find a part-time or full-time job that is low stress.

Then we get into the fact that without financial security/stability that limits being an equal partner in a relationship, being the best parent, etc. What person wants a partner who is limited like that, who isn’t an equal partner, and that can’t provide enough financial security to support her ownself?

Perhaps I am not being completely rational about it right now because I am still too upset, angry, and afraid. I sure hope I end up feeling a little better about it.

Being Happy With Yourself

For years I’ve known that I needed to be happier with myself. To feel more confident, to have more self-esteem, to stand up for my self more and to second guess myself less. For years it has been a work in progress, actually I’ve been a work in progress my whole life. And as I continue to improve myself I will continue to be a work in progress.

What does it mean, really mean to be happy with yourself? For me it meant being comfortable with being different, with being a lesbian, and with having bipolar. I also had to learn how to accept that fact that I was going to have to take medication for the rest of my life. Being comfortable with being a lesbian was easier than becoming comfortable with having bipolar. As I become more comfortable with everything I learned to accept things degree by degree.

Almost a decade after being diagnosed with having bipolar type II with rapid cycling, anxiety disorder, and then adult ADD, I have finally come to terms with it. It was a long process, filled with pain, not just mine but for those who love and care about me. I had trouble having compassion for myself and I had trouble with relationships. Over the years I’ve also had trouble with impulse control, poor judgment, concentration and focus, as well as depression and mania.

I can’t completely control the mood swings, but I have learned how to live with them and work around them and with them sometimes. I’ve also learned to have patience and compassion with and for myself. I went on and off medication, went to therapy on and off, and wasn’t committed to my own health and wellness. But at the beginning of this year, in part due to stress and mood swings, going back on medication that was working but not well enough yet, and not being completely honest with my therapist (lies by ommision) I began to have an episode. My mood swings went back forth, I was hypomanic and having trouble with impulse control, in denial about what was really going on, and I wasn’t being honest with my partner or myself.

When confronted with everything I was still in a bit of denial but determined to become healthier, to get myself together and to get my life under control (as much as possible). I went to Georgia for the summer, originally I was going to move there and looked for a job. I was looking at places to live, and after months I finally found both a part-time and a full-time job, but my daughter called me and wanted me home, though she didn’t actually ask me. My parents’ health had gotten worse and I was needed at home, not just to help them but for my daughter as well.

After being there for almost 4 months I came back to SC. I began seeing a doctor again, got back on medication and got back into therapy. I am currently on medication and going to therapy. Moving back was the right decision for all of those I love and who love me, but it also meant staying at my parents’ home, which isn’t really the best thing for me. I’ve had to adjust, to re-evaluate things, and to learn patience.

In order to do well in therapy I’ve had be completely honest with my therapist, which isn’t always easy but I’m doing it. As the months have passed I’ve learned to be happy with myself. It wasn’t easy, I had to let go of the need to try to control things, I had to learn how to figure out what I could do to make my situation better, and to just be happy. The last month I’ve been much happier. The medication is working well, therapy has helped a lot, and finally learning learning to accept things and to learn to be more tolerant of my flaws. How could accept and love someone else flaws and all if I couldn’t accept and love myself?

Loving myself has been hard and it hasn’t come overnight. There are still things I need to work on, but overall I am much happier with myself than I have been in a long time. Life holds much promise, and many possibilities.