I’ve Got a Rock

I’ve got a rock in my belly in the form of a Devil’s Food Glazed Doughnut. Why did I do it? I do not know. But it’s too late to undo.

I spent the morning with Dr. RH, PhD. We discussed important things and not so much important things. First of all, she wanted to know about Marriage Counseling by Dr. PP, PhD. I told her it felt productive. I asked some questions about the way the brain is made, and did she think it was possible bipolar was caused by brain damage found in the amygdala, the emotional center of the brain. She said probably not and that we will never know. If there is a problem with the brain, it is probably caused my the neuro-transmitters faulty firing.

She asked about my goals in our one-on-one therapy and she gave me a Career Assessment Inventory. I’m going to bring it back and she’ll send it to the company so they can process it. I’m also to organize my business paperwork and bring it so she can see it.

Personal goals in therapy and relationships and life:
Think before I speak and speak kindly
Take care of my body with exercise, yoga and thoughtful eating
Support and love and care for my family – help them work towards making all their dreams come true.
Find meaningful, productive work and do it diligently- consider whether the book will qualify and if so, when?
Be able to follow Jesus by following principles he put in to place.
Organize tangible things in such a way I can find them and use them later.
Make beautiful things that people are happy to see.

More later.

The Family Tree Project

There are a lot of problems with the Family Tree Project. It’s not Mr. B’s, Small’s teacher’s, fault, but I am just uncomfortable with the entire idea.

When they assigned it to my aide’s daughter, she called it nosy. I don’t have much of a problem with that – but can see there are times when revealing my past would not do me well. When I worked in the capitol, I would introduce myself using my first and last name – both are rare. Occasionally someone would scrunch up their nose and try to think where they had heard the names before. The Capitol’s major and I share the same name, and that was probably why, but once or twice I said, “you don’t know anyone I’m related to.”

Now, fifteen years older, I see that was a snotty thing to say. While my parents were state employees, stirring around in law enforcement and tax evasion, my paternal grandfather was a tom cat, sprinkling the rest of us around the country. He was guilty of a lot of poop and I have never met him, nor will I ever. The man is dead, and lays in a pauper’s grave in the town my father grew up in.

My maternal grandfather was a carpenter. My grandmother was an artist. I have no shame that comes in that, but I do not bear their name. I can’t brag that I am one of them as soon as I am introduced to someone new. Those grandparents will take up a large amount of my daughter’s family tree. Their children might be another story, one being a leech and another a meth user. In my own recovery, though, I have met many an addict that is a genuinely good person who happens to have some serious problems that they solve (or don’t) using drugs. I am naive enough to believe the drugs I take are different than the drugs they do.

Enough for now. Monday my husband and I start marriage counseling. We’re dropping the baby at 3:30 and the sitter will have her until 7. Will keep you up to date.

Just Married! (For ten years)

I’m up and down.  Therapy is going well and my husband and I are going to go to marital counseling and he is cool with it.  Last time we had any sort of family therapy the social worker said she’d never met such resistance.  There wasn’t resistance, it’s just that my husband is shy and very private I  keep some things to myself. I’ll participate in therapeutic groups, but I am guarded.   My new psychologist pointed out that every time she tried to steer things about my marriage I guided that boat away.  I went to a counselor and I didn’t bring my husband up for over a year and she respected that.  Not exactly relevant and we will see how therapy goes.  We have been on three dates in the last two and a half.  It’s kind of ridiculous.  If I’m not on top of things we don’t spend any time alone at all.  Ah, I’m complaining.  

 

I wonder if you read the Break (the blog entry above this one).  I may do the yoga tonight as prescribed and I really hope I do.  It’s the only time I feel in control.  I don’t know how spending 30 minutes  doing one thing effects your whole day.  I have a good idea how a pill or a drink do, though.  It might be the same with the exercise.  I’m sure there are people I could ask (hello, Hubo?) but I don’t want to know.  Not now anyway.  I feel like I need to get my lifer in order.  I just realized that I say that all the time, and that I do not know what it means.  It meant getting my weight under control and reading my Bible.  It’s time to re-evaluate.  I don’t know exactly where to start.  My work book given to me by my therapist is about automatic thoughts and emotions and how to look at things reasonably.  I’m not so great about that, but everyone has a place to start, right?  The psychologist said I was better off than a lot of her other clients.  I did creative things, had good organizational skills and worked towards getting well.  A lot of hers just lay on the couch and watch t.v. all the time.  I remind myself of this.  It is possible for me to be better, but my life is worth living.  I just want more from it

Can’t we all just get along?

When I hear a woman say, “I just don’t get along with other women,” I instantly realize this a woman with serious issues.

There are seven billion people on earth. Slightly more than 3.5 of them are women. This means, after all the women in the world, you have a problem with all of them?

The last time I heard a woman say that I told her something like that. She didn’t like it, of course. I am still glad I said it. She told a client of hers the same thing and the client responded, “Well, of course you don’t get along with women, women are difficult to get along with.” Shortly after that her client was asked to leave the business permanently. Good thing her philosophies were the one the woman chose to adhere to. Are we all that blind?

I’m well today, thank you for asking. I did a twenty minute yoga practice, went to church and drank caffeine. This evening I will also do yoga and meditate using sacredspace.ie A wonderful site put together by the Irish Jesuits. I feel better, I’m not perfectly whole, yet, but that is something we can hope for only on the other side of heaven.

A Lovely Baby Shower

I just deleted the “vent” post. I had a very nice baby shower here today, that’s why I went in to the psyche of a particular party guest and all her insipid ways. I am just tired of it, ya know? And there seems no end in sight. Ah! There is no end in sight. Thankfully they are the kind of people that move on purpose. We do not move on purpose. We stay put on purpose. That is why I’ve lived six places in the last ten years. I would have died happily in our little cottage in our city. That’s not the way it works.

I don’t want to vent. But I wish this woman came with a warning label. She’s like a German Sheppard. Fine one minute, the next. I need to fire her but haven’t done it yet. I’m still emotionally involved, and I think that it’s at least someone reasonable to stay that way. (Of course I’m talking about LN. If you didn’t pick that up yet.)

I will probably vent tomorrow. It struck me just now that I am afraid someone is going to read this and tell her and all hell will break lose. What do I care, really? Do I not want readers? Have I been unfair? One sided? (yes, one sided.)

Not so much giving today (G)

Sure, it’s only one-ish, but so far I haven’t done anything more giving than letting the guy in the car to the left of me in a four-way stop the opportunity to go first. Generous, right?

I spent the morning at Weight Watchers, where I am down .8 pounds. “They” want you to lose between .5-2 pounds a week. So, I’m on track. Good because for the later half of the week I did not tracking and ate two pieces of Oreo Cheesecake. If that sounds disgusting, that’s because it is. After Weight Watchers T and I went to Barnes and Nobles and looked at books on color and paper. It was a pleasant three hours, and I love that T has the time to spend and wants to with me. I found a wonderful book on creating cards and that took me all that time to get through. It is one of those books that I could spend another three hours garnering ideas from. Maybe I will go back with T next week. Or maybe we will eat pizza and finish it off with Coldstone. (All within walking distance from Weight Watchers, of course.)

What can I give today? I’m just not good at it. I’m good at asking other people to give. T bought the coffee. A few seconds ago I texted LS to see if she could watch Small during the parent/teacher conference tomorrow. I am prepared to hear that Small is average in all her subjects and runs her mouth. But maybe there will be surprises.

Back to the giving. Is cleaning the house a form of giving? Making gifts? Talking to my mostly deaf father?

During the writing of this blog, my dad called. He he can’t hear very much at all, but he can think. Interestingly enough, a few times we’ve been in a group conversation, and I’ll say something. The next thing out of his mouth is a very close paraphrase. My dad is a very smart, wise, deaf man. To be on the wavelength where he’s thinking is almost an honor.

I have to look out for something to do for someone today. Grrr. I didn’t think this would be so hard. I am just discovering how self-centered I actually am.

New Title, do ya like it? Also, letting stuff go.

Having a medium tough time but learning a lot about myself so that makes me really happy.

My friend, D, calls obsessing, “pit-bulling”. It’s when you bit yourself in to something and hold on with a locked jaw. Sounds pretty perfect, doesn’t it? You don’t have to have an alphabet of diagnosis to obsess over something, do you?

Well, for me it was a minor art supply that I lent to a friend with the understanding that she’d replace it. I’d asked her a few times about it and she always made excuses. It honestly wasn’t a big deal to me in someways, but in others it was. It seemed like she really wanted to give it back. I saw the item in the craft store and pmed her about it. She kind of went crazy, listing all the things she’d done for me and given to me and how could I possibly want that back? I wanted to talk in person but she wouldn’t do it. After all that she said she wanted to drop it.

Of course I couldn’t do that. I had to consider what she said, and I was going to do it without obsessing on it. I talked to my husband and he told me I was more of a taker than a giver. I talked to my mom and she basically said the same thing. She pointed out how her poor (as in financially poor) great aunt and uncle always brought a gift to them whenever they were invited over or whenever my parents did anything nice for them, which is frequently. I didn’t have the funds to buy things for other people, but I had the means to do good by them.

I am sure the woman with all her (valid) accusations is gossiping about me up and down the block. Maybe I deserve it, but maybe I don’t. Just “dropping” things means not talking about them anymore, right?

I could think that there is no joy in this, but I would be wrong. I have learned I need to give more. It can’t always be about me and the almost astonishing gifts I have been given by friends with little else in return. It’s a chance to change myself. When I am able, that is not sick, I will make a dish for the pot-luck, and find a way to bless other people materially. I neglected to do that. It’s easy for me not to do so because I either count myself doing enough. (I host parties, right? I listen to your whining, right? (Not yours, the people I am talking about don’t read this blog.) But I also take without hesitation. My husband was really disturbed at the amount of “freebies” I accept. I honestly assume that, if people give to me, they are glad to and don’t expect anything in return. In the rare chances I usually give with that attitude. I guess that I don’t do that enough. No, I agree that I don’t do that enough. I want to be giving, I really do. I have so many good examples, like my friend T, my fabulous sixty-something friend who would gladly give me the cashmere sweater off her back if she thought I wanted it. Even the friend who kinda exploded on me is a giving person.

That I can change myself before I alienate, or wear out any other friends is a cause of great joy. I feel lighter, and although I haven’t done anything yet, I feel like I am better because of what she said. It doesn’t matter if I felt like she was being petty (I was being petty, for the record) or even manipulative, I need to change, I will. It’s part of my Wonderfully Fabulous Journey.

She didn’t want me anymore

I’m noticing a theme in my entries. A good portion of them talk about losing friends, how I felt about it, and why I think I felt that way. I can tell you that my feelings are as real as the experiences, but they’re not the whole story.

Most relationships are fluid. I don’t know why it happens that way. I have a few sturdy relationships, those that last and get stronger sometimes, then weaker, but are always close. My brother is one, Mauditmo is one, and I hope my husband is one.

What makes them different than the other people I’ve written about? I don’t know. My brother and I are almost four years apart. He is so physically gorgeous I had a therapist once ask me if there was any animosity on my part. (He looks like one of the guys from those teen vampire flicks) There has never been any animosity, for one I had been raised by my parents to believe I was one of the most beautiful girls the world had ever known. I realize now that is not true. I am not unattractive, but I have acne scars and Hermione hair (most of the time). I am also thirty-five and rarely wear make-up. If I cared, I would. I think if he had been the sister I so desperately wanted, of we were closer in age I might have felt that way, but I didn’t, and never have. I doubt I ever will.

I think what makes Mauditmo and me friends after all these years is devotion. We are hardly alike at all. Her family background and mine are polar opposites. She likes four seasons, she gets to study and write all over the United States. I forwarded her a funny youtube video and she not only didn’t laugh, she told me her life was not a whole lot different than it was at twenty-one. She doesn’t do anyone’s laundry but her own. I do a lot of laundry, tiny dresses and panties, sweaty t-shirts and a lot of lounge pants. We’ve traveled together, loving the coast while we headed to Canada. We’ve taken long round trip friends to the city where both of our extended families still live.

She is also considerably smarter than most people, including me. I am considerably more spiritual and am devoted to Jesus. Religion is not on the radar for her. She’s studying at an extremely prestigious writing school and I am writing a blog in my two story track home. My seven year old is waiting down stairs for me to help her learn to ride a bike. She doesn’t really want to. My husband says she just doesn’t want to do something hard.

I best go.

My husband is the one I worry about, to be honest. He loves me; I love him. We are supposed to sustain this love forever. It’s a source of fretting. I think we will be together, and I have reasons why: our vows. We both promised in sickness and in health and there has been a lot more sickness around here lately. Good thing it’s so specific.

The odds for us are not good. 90% of marriages, where one partner is bipolar, end in divorce. B wants to approach heaven with the confidence that will come with making a marriage to a bipolar woman work. It’s not only my issues, though. He knows that, and certainly God knows that.

My Worse Proposal (PG-13 Mild sexual situation)

It was my second worst 4th of July ever. I was going out to Sanger with my boyfriend to watch the fireworks. There were a ton of people there and we were running through the crowd. Instead of protecting me, leading the way, he pushed me ahead of him. I hated him for it and after about an hour of it I told him to stop it. He said he was putting me first. I hated him so much that I could hardly believe it. I wanted him to leave forever so I would never have to see him again. I felt nausea. A headache was brewing. And he wouldn’t listen to me and wasn’t taking care of me.

On the car on the way home, he pulled over and asked me to marry him.

I told him no. It’s amazing how clueless someone who you’ve spent almost four years of your life with can be so clueless. Didn’t he understand that I really, really hated him and wanted to tell him but didn’t know how I was to go about it? Apparently he really was that clueless.

It took me a year after that to tell him we were over. He dangled in front of me that he “never would have made love (to me) if we weren’t getting married. I glossed over it. He had pulled that before. I broke up with him and that was that. Except the next few months were we continued to sleep together. But that’s not uncommon. It led him on and gave him an unfair hope, but I found another boyfriend and I got married (not to him). I know he got married but I don’t know her. I do hope she is kind to him, at least kinder than I am to my husband.

Single

Something I’ve noticed when I was single, that I’ve noticed in many of my single friends, is that we have a specific way we want to find our future mate.

We want to be close friends first -then date, then marry. We have ideas about sex, kisses, and maybe even wedding flowers. We might have our eye on someone – but most of us don’t. We’ve just created a scenario, one that may be impossible to fulfill.

The summer before I got to know my husband I had fallen really, really hard for a man at my school. He was tall, black, and one of the most forgiving person I had ever met.

He worked in my classroom – which made me his supervisor. I know that I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. He offered to fix my cars seat belt; I offered to make dinner, things went forward from there.

We taught Summer school together and that was fun, but other parts weren’t fun. I wanted us to be best friends. I wanted us to work together and then play together. He had told me how much he thought of my work with the disabled kids (we taught severely developmentally disabled kids together) and I really thought we’d just be together and have a wonderful time.

That was not my idea. It was like he read “The Game” that awful book about how to jerk around woman and make them fall for you. We’d be set to go to some place like San Francisco and he’d come to pick me up, and instead of telling me I looked nice, he’d say, “You didn’t have to dress up.” He’d not show up for dates, when he did he was at least thirty minutes late. Things had to end, and they did. But my feelings for him didn’t.

The thing about getting involved with people like that is that it’s exciting. You never know what is going to happen next. Will he show? Will he be thoughtful? Will he blame me? Will he forget about me? What is going to happen next?

The answer to all these questions is: I don’t know. It didn’t make sense to me why he would treat me so badly. I still consider that relationship to be the stupidest thing I have ever done.

Anyway, fast forward to my husband. He was kind, he told me I was pretty – He showed up fifteen minutes early – (one of my friends told me that I should tell him he couldn’t show up early until we had consummated our relationship). He was fun, but not too exciting – compared to my previous relationship.

One day, on a trip to Yosemite, I was advised to make a list of the things I liked and didn’t about my boyfriend. I did. I went for a walk. I came back and I know my friend had read my list. She said, “Shows up on time – that’s so boring.” “Plans picnics in the park – so boring” “Surprises you with flowers – boring, boring, boring.”

I went for a hike up to Vernal Falls. I thought about all she said. She was right; I was crazy. I went back and told my boyfriend what he was ready to hear. I was ready to start pre-marital counseling.

Jeremiah promises “I know the plans I have for you, plans to bless you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” This verse is often, like so many verses, taken out of context.

Jeremiah 29 also says, ” 10 This is what the LORD says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. 11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. [b] I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

Seventy years, years! They will wait in Babylon’s territory for seventy years. Only after that time he will come and heal them, bless them, and give them hope. That leads me to believe they will be with out hope during their time in Babylon. Their future will be unknown. During that time they might seek him, but not find him. He will feel like he will be absent from them for those years.

When he appears, he will be refreshing and beautiful. But he also promises that “13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you,” declares the LORD”. He must be sought with my whole heart for me to find Him.

So it’s easy to quote Jeremiah 29:11, but the true meaning is more difficult to take.

What does this have to do with me dating? In my case, I had to repent, completely, from my actions. I had to switch my adoration of the first guy to God. I remember my “life verse” from that year. It said, ” 1Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.” My heart was so far away from Christ during that time – I learned a lot about my priorities – and about my heart.

For a Christian, really loving someone has to start with your heart on Christ. All else comes secondarily. My husband and I didn’t really know each other at all when we started dating, and when we started marriage counseling we learned a lot about each other. I’m sure that others say that the best way is to be friends first, but that wasn’t the way it worked for us. We fight; We wrestle and we have wonderful times for ever. But for both of us we spend time in captivity.

I continue to struggle to put my heart on the throne of Christ. But most days I continue to try. For now at least, my days of captivity are over.

More about this later.