Sigh. I made a mistake and have to return $78 to my former company.
I say former because I made another paperwork mistake. I keep making them. I need to get someone to check my work before I turn it in, but I decide that things will be fine and I don’t need to worry about it. I am wrong.
I think this is the ADD in me. I can’t get it right. Someday maybe I will be able to, but my guess is no, it will not. (By the way, my ADD med, Vyvanse, is $201.99 without insurance.)
Thanks to my spree, $78 is a huge amount of money for us. I can’t say that I will never shop like that again, but if I did it is out of naivete. Next time things get out of hand, I know what wil happen. I don’t carry credit cards, or (after last week) checks. I hardly carry cash because I spend it within two days of holding it. Money and I are not friends. I met a woman once, at a child’s birthday party, and she told me, relevantly, that she is “not materialistic.” I had never heard anyone say that before. I would like to see that character trait in myself, but right now I believe God has other things he’s working on.
At least I’m not a serial adulterer. That sort of thing is irreparable. I feel a strong compulsion toward shopping and I can understand how that might feel when it comes to sexuality. The pull of the illness, combined with a natural sex drive can’t really be productive, anymore than have three pairs of brown pants can be productive. At least I can take brown pants back. Even if sex means nothing to you, you can’t take it back. If it means very little to the bipolar person, I can bet it means something to their partners.
“It is not too shocking a statistic then that 90% of people who are suffering from bipolar disorder go through divorce proceedings.” Who can put up with all they have to put up with. I met a married woman with bipolar disorder in the hospital. She had a great husband and they had a great relationship, but she felt really guilty about the whole thing. She said so many people were unhappy in their marriage, she couldn’t feel okay with her great marriage. She was typically bipolar, too. For example, she once bought a bedroom set for a ton of money when they didn’t need one. I don’t know what she did to get in to the hospital but they don’t just let anyone in.
I can tell you more stories like the guy getting kicked out of his house by his wife, so he bought a six pack and slept in his car. One time, after a revelatory conversation with my husband. I really wanted to leave, but my parents were visiting us from out of town and they were asleep in my bedroom, so I couldn’t get my stuff and leave them alone with B. I’d probably wind up with the police picking me up. This is probably not true, but I felt like I had no where else to go. I came back, but suffered for many years because the story he made me pry from him. Things would probably have been better if he’d told me years before, or was more open with it, but I can’t know for sure. I thought that I probably would not have married him had I knew what happened. (I am not going to tell the story.)
Anyway, if I were resourceful and not disabled, I would start pounding the pavement for more work, but I’m not in the highly motivated team. I would like to start writing more, I’ll pouring so much into these blog entries and I could pour even more in to stories and novels. Or if not more, the same.