I want to take off my fat suit

I’ve decided I’ll give blogging another try. Although, I may not be terribly entertaining because I’m quite in control of myself.

My meds are working well, I’m not a zombie, I am feeling, but not constantly feeling extremes. It’s pretty cool.

BUT. BUT. I’m big. I don’t like to name call, but the first time I typed that, I typed “fat”. I’ll break it down, and spill some embarrassing numbers:

I graduated high school in the 150s

I got married just under 200

I gave birth to my 1st child @ 214

I got down to 155 when I was manic

And now I’m 206

Oh gosh I hope my husband pretends he didn’t see this because I haven’t even admitted this to him, and he knows everything!! (But honestly, he’s seen me naked lots of times at this weight so idk what it matters)

I don’t understand what’s so hard about losing weight. I think I may have multiple issues facing me right now: slight depression, laziness (ill blame it on the depression…), and not understanding HOW to lose the weight.

I know that last one sounds silly. Watch what you eat and exercise. Bam. It’s just, losing weight is so closely tied with my manic episode that the thought of it makes me uncomfortable.

Hypersexuality has always been a huge part of my life, and losing weight and starting to think that I “look good” will bring it back. It is the hardest part of me to fight.

I don’t know how to fight it. Lock myself in a bathroom? Scratch myself until I stop? (I used to self harm when I would feel extreme emotions as a teen but it never got serious). I could do what I think I’m doing now and just make myself undesirable.

How do you handle your HS? Idk if you all feel like I do, but I’m like a cat in heat and on the prowl. It’s deplorable.

I could set out knowing it will return, and then face it head on. Call the psych and see if we could do a med change to battle it? I think that’s what I’ll do. I think I will give the hypersexuality a face, do a little bit of personification. I think that might make it easier to confront. It will be a war, but I never enter one I know I won’t win! I HAVE to make myself healthier, and a better person for my kids.

Those Dunkin Donuts in the fridge as sooooo calling my name.

I always figure out so much when I blog ūüôā Thanks for listening!! Your experience, thoughts, and advice are welcomed!

A month of normalcy

*Disclaimer* Sorry, as I am writing, I realize Im using some inappropriate language that some may find offensive. But if you like to curse, read the fuck on!

October 1st marked the beginning of me no longer working nights. I had been working nights for 11 months, and had been (I believe) consequently suffering from some of the worst mood swings, depression, anxiety, and mania I had ever experienced.

I think there were some life changes that took place in October that alongside my current medicinal cocktail proved to help me become more stable.

Well, mainly just 2. A set bed time of 10pm (alright, so I had a few nights that I stayed up late), and a new attitude.

I’ve wanted a new attitude for a long time, but lacked the tools and medication to come by one. I know its vulgar, and probably rude, but it’s important for me and my mind. Are you ready for it?? My new mantra??

I don’t give a fuck what you think. I’ll only do what I want, and when I want to do it. I just don’t give a fuck.

Yes folks, you too can have a new attitude – all by creating a cheeky new motto.

Naturally, its not a blanket statement:

>I do give a fuck about my family, my husband, my life, etc etc. What I don’t give a fuck about anymore is how clean my house is, getting called out by a boss because my shirt isn’t pressed enough, or my mother calling and passive aggressively attacking me. And other stupid shit like that.

>Clearly, I have responsibilities: poppy diapers need to promptly be changed, laundry and dishes need to be done so we are at least clothed and fed, I have to be at scheduled appointments, etc.

So, my new way of thinking is really another way of determining what’s important in my life. Taking away all this energy Im allowing these trivial people and things to be draining from me, and putting that energy back into myself.

I kinda feel like Donald Trump, sticking my finger out – “Your’e fired.”

To my old life – you’re fired

To my old obsessions – you’re fired

To letting my mom hurt me – you’re fired.

To the part of me that doesn’t think I deserve to be forgived – you’re fired.

To those ignorant fucks at work who call me slow and try to intimidate me – you’re fired.

So October has been my first normal month. Im skeptical. But it looks nice on paper.

Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned.

Or maybe I haven’t.

Or maybe I have, and I’m just gonna go to hell.

Or maybe I have, and it’s forgivable.¬†

I mean, I broke a commandment. Thou shalt not commit¬†adultery. There has to be some¬†repercussion¬†for that, right? Some penance? I need penance. It’s not a “Oh, she was manic, she has an illness, she loves her husband and didn’t mean to hurt him – it was wrong, but it’s ok, you need to forgive yourself.” That just doesn’t sound right to me. But I kinda feel like that’s what I’m getting from my therapist.

She said I need to “do whatever you need to do to feel better”. Yeah, we’re at that point. 6 months later, and I’m not forgiving myself still. It’s like she’s pulling her hair out and looking confused wondering why I just can’t get over it. I thought it would just happen over time.

I know, for someone who did what I did, that this will sound really wrong, and maybe like a flat out lie. But I have strong morals. Which is probably why it’s so hard for me to let this go. Pillars says he has forgiven me. I have made great strides in attaining a normal mood, adjusting my life so it’s more kind to me. But I’m holding on to this nasty, hurtful feeling, and I’m not sure how to let it go.

My therapist asked Tuesday, “Why did you do it?”

“Because I couldn’t not do it. It was a physical urge. It wasn’t even an option. It was an energy. It didn’t make sense.”

“And that is Bipolar. It doesn’t make sense.”

Pillars asked why I am looking for sense in something that doesn’t make sense. Why can’t I just let it be: something that happened that doesn’t make sense.

I guess because I haven’t tortured myself enough yet.

If I wanna torture myself, fine. But the reason I am trying to figure this out is because I think that it’s coming between me and Pillars, physically. I had been explaining my low sex drive (I’m only wanting it once every 10 days or so) to meds, life, everything else. But things keep becoming clear to me – I’m able to see ways I am¬†sabotaging¬†myself . Ways I am lying to myself, maybe little white lies to others in effort to be what they expect me to be – or what I think they expect me to be. Doing things I don’t want to do, worrying about people judging me for any little thing. I wasn’t being true to myself; I might not even know who myself really is. I didn’t notice I was doing all of this, and now I’m slowly seeing it all.

So it became clear to me last week when we were having sex that I get little flashbacks, images, etc of my affairs. And of course that floods me with negative emotions: disgust, anger, hopelessness, pity, and more. I get really uncomfortable, and Pillars can tell. Therefore, sex = negative emotions for me. Hence why I hardly ever “feel like it”. We figured all that out in marriage therapy.

Now, I want to forgive myself for my husband. So we can have that intimacy back. So I can be his and be present while we are in bed. 0

I think a confession would be a good step forward. It seems to be what my mind always comes back to when I think of forgiving myself.

On the topic of the ten commandments – people commit murder to save themselves, people work on Sundays, people say the Lord’s name in vain, people covet what their neighbor has…

So it’s common place. It happens. A lot. I probably shouldn’t be so uptight about it.

But a little bit of me worries that if I let this go, I’ll do it again. But I’d have to be manic, and I keep too close a guard on my symptoms and my moods, Pillars pays close attention, and I see my therapist(s) too often for this to happen. So I should just let it go and trust myself and all of them.

That’s where I am. Focusing on that. Or trying not to focus on that. Whichever.

Don’t Judge, Lest You Be Mental.

I said something fairly intelligent the other night. Don’t worry, it was totally unintentional and unplanned. Which means it was honest.

There is a girl at my new job who apparently has a heroin addiction. I heard about it after work, while waiting to leave the building. I had clocked out and walked to the front of the restaurant and joined a group of co-workers standing by the door. They were talking about the girl, and about how she was having withdraws while at work, how it was affecting her ability to do her job, etc.

One of the co-workers talking about it, I knew instantly from meeting her that she was a nice person. But she was being terribly¬†judgmental¬†of¬†our co-work with a drug problem. As if she was reading my mind, she stopped and said that she¬†knows¬†she’s being insensitive, but that she just doesn’t have any sympathy for her. She’s been threatened with her job, and still doesn’t change. Obviously, she doesn’t care.

I, on the other hand, have a lot of sympathy for drug addicts. Remember this post?

I felt compelled to speak, even though I haven’t been there long and should be careful when I insert myself into conversations like this. But that’s always been me. If I feel strongly enough about something, I can’t stop myself from talking.

So I politely interrupted (ha. Can you politely interrupt?…) and told them that my Dad died from a drug addiction, which resulted from an un-diagnosed mental illness. So, in fact, you can never know what someone is really going through, and what is in their body and mind. I think that I said something so deep, after not having spoken 3 sentences before to her, stopped her for a minute and made her consider it. Hopefully, it¬†embarrassed¬†her a little. It wasn’t my goal. Really. After a short pause, she picked up¬†her thoughts right where she had left them, reiterating that she has no sympathy.

So I go home, and told my husband¬†about this conversation. He told me that he tries hard not to judge people, and that he’s seen friends come home from war and not receive the proper medical care and end up with substance abuse problems. That’s when I said that I used to judge. I judged all the time. Until I became someone who would be judged.¬†

My husband commented that it’s a humbling feeling. I agreed. Makes me feel older. Very much like an adult (like 3 kids, ¬†a husband, and a mortgage doesn’t?). And it’s almost a sad feeling really…to have learned a lesson from experiencing something so grown up, something so sad. A loss of childhood, of innocence. I can say that a lot of adults never understand this concept.

I have a spot in my heart for anyone who has lost their way. The homeless in particular. I see my Dad in them all, because for all I know, he was homeless at some point in our years of estrangement. I can’t help but imagine what has happened in their lives to put them where they are. What ¬†family members are missing them…who loves them and doesn’t know where they are? What will become of them? How will their families ever know? Do they need medical care? When was the last time they ate?¬†I’ve said for years that when I have the time, I’m going to volunteer with an organization to helps the homeless and recovering addicts.

Yeah, I’m someone who could be judged. I have a mental illness. I’ve committed¬†adultery. And I’ll always stand up for someone who isn’t there to stand up for themselves.