Tag Archives: divorce

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.

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Maybe not officially fired. (PG-13) (Short mention of sexuality)

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.


What is this about?

Do we all have the seven year itch?  Why is it that most people I know are having troubles in their marriage?  One is going to nursing school so she can leave him when she graduates.  Another is dealing with some (weird) sexual issues, and a handful of them absolutely hate their lives and their kids act like “rat finks.”  Ow.

We’ve had our share of troubles, too.  I’m not saying we don’t.  Most of it is caused by arguments related to bipolar.  Mr. M is in love with my new friend.  She says things like I need to clean my room before I paper craft (I’m working on Christmas presents).  She also warns, not unlike Mr M, when I seem on the up swing.  Or downward.  Of course this serves to piss me off.  What do they know about me?  Answer:  Everything.

But back to the husband trouble… What is it about these guys?  Are they just comfortable enough not to notice their wives are floundering?  Or are they just upset with their wives, too?  So far the feelings have mostly been mutual, but one woman told her husband, “I’m not happy” and he took it like a shock.  I watched that Christian movie, Fireproof.  Skip that, if you get a chance, unless you like horrible acting and worse directing.  But the message was good.  The movie featured this youngish couple who were very selfish and fought constantly.  He was way out of line, but they both had issues, he was in love with porn and this boat he’d been saving up for.  She was a pharmaceutical rep who was slowly falling in love with one of the (married) doctors.  Husband did all he could to save their marriage, doing the 30 day love dare.  She was resistant until he used his boat money to buy all this junk for her ailing parents.  They got together and were happy again.

For about 1/2 an hour, I imagine, before something else gets brought up.

My parents both say that they are happily married, and they are coming up on 35 years.  What’s the key?  My dad used to counsel ex-prisoners on their lives.  his advice:  If you can stand ’em, marry ’em.  If you can’t stand ’em, divorce ’em.”   I guess, after all these years, they still stand each other.  Aw.

My dad will chew my mom out for random stuff, though.  Like when she asked him to turn on the barbecue while he is sitting on the couch with me and my brother, he’ll tell her, “I’ll be damned if I don’t have two kids here who can do what you asked ME to do.”  I doubt Mr. M would do that, but I also doubt that Mr M would call our relationship a “great” marriage.  In fact, I know he wouldn’t.  I asked him.

What makes a great marriage?  Some family friends matriarch claimed she and her husband NEVER fought for their entire marriage.  Not once.  I told about her to my old psychologist in Oakland and she joked, “Do you have sex?  Then there is no need for me.”  I can’t help but wonder, though, why they were so compatible.  Were they identical in desires and temperament?  Did they never get tired?  Did they have the opportunity to love the unloveable?  These people had four daughters.  Can you even imagine raising a kid and never disagree on what’s appropriate for them to do or how to act?  Did they never fight about money?  And like my psychologist asked, “Do you have sex?”

I am pretty sure that most of us would be completely lost, for a time, not being married.  (I think that also applies to women in abusive relationships.  We just don’t know how to act when we’re not being abused.)  Of course we would bounce back, if you’re woman (or man) enough to have psychological issues, deal with child loss, or even read this blog I have no doubt you can make it on your own.  But if you don’t have to, why?  I’m praying for the day I can be on an even keel.  I think Mr. M is too.  Who would want a wife who, in his words, “Is a different person everyday.”  It’s not fair to either of us for me to let myself hang on like this.   (Not in a nobody likes me I want to go eat worms, kinda way, but a I am going to strive to get better kinda way.

I’m 34 Friday.    This means I’ve been out of the hospital for almost three years.  I’m sure there are people that wanted me to go in, because they told me they thought I belonged there.  But I wouldn’t go.  (Here it’s a ‘behavioral center’.  That totally cracks me up.)  I haven’t really been suicidal at all, and I’m not homicidal either.  I get angry at her and I’ve tripped on her in a big way.  I yell more that I have before.  I’m[ not proud of the kind of Mama I’m being, but I’ve been worse.

I’ve been a worse wife too.  I love him.  I frequently respect him.  But I’m not a big keeper of the home.  He told me to come up and see our (my) bedroom.  He said, “it looks like a crazy person lives here.”  Objectively, it did.  The room was filled with brown boxes.  There were art supplies not put away, and a sloppily made bed.  I saw his point, but told him I needed all of them for the Christmas presents.  He required that I break them down and put them in the garage.  I haven’t done that yet.  I will.  Not today though.

I want some pudding.