Tag Archives: friend

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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I’m leaving you

I missed my meds last night.  I was exercising with my mom and got this weird tingling in my left arm.  It upset her and she made me take aspirin.  I got that “must take pills” feeling out of my mouth and only discovered this morning I missed them completely.

What changes?  For one thing, my vision is blurry.  It wouldn’t be so if I had taken my cogenten like a good girl.  Other than that, I feel physically okay.  It’s the relational stuff that has been triggered that is a pain.

There are two individuals that I would like to give a piece of my mind.   One complains ALL THE TIME about her life, her partner, other people, goes on about how she cannot get along with over 300,000,000 members of the population.  It’s enough to bug, but the other day she told me she would be all caught up if she had my schedule.

#1.  She doesn’t know my schedule because she’s so self absorbed she never makes the time to find out what other people are doing with their lives.

#2.  She has no clue what it means to be bipolar.  From weekly group therapy and one on one therapy to frequent psychiatric appointments to endless hours at the pharmacist, she would see being bipolar, or schizophrenic or whatever is the equivalent of a part time job.  What does she think I sit at home all day, doing nothing?   Oh, she probably does think that.

Since I only skipped the meds once I have not knocked on her door and told her all of this.  Our kids are friends.  I don’t want to screw that up for my daughter.

I get all pissy about my husband too, but don’t you hate it when people complain about their husbands?


On Understanding

I’ve been told many times, “You’re are the only person who understands me.” I am touched by that, and want to introduce her or him to each other so that it’s not really me who is their lone compadres. There are so many people out there, and I read once 1 out of 100 folks are diagnosed with bipolar. That means if you go to a church with 300+ there are at least three of you. If you’re in a club that fits 100, you are likely to be the only one, except if you meet someone you might find that they are also mentally ill. (We tend to attract each other.) It doesn’t sound like a lot, but I actually take comfort from it. Even in a large crowd, there are more of me.

My new friend, Randi, had some serious issues with anxiety. She once stayed in bed for three days. We’ve only become friends since the beginning of the school year. It’s kind of funny, really, because I think that seeking good friends is kind of like dating, but in a fun way. I’m getting so buff (a funny word) so that many of my shirts are tight around the shoulders and thighs are huge. If I wasn’t smothered with fat I would have a rockn’ bod. She wants us to work out in our well stocked home gym twice a week. I am having a bad day, physically. I normally don’t but I am feeling like I have the flu.

I cancelled my volunteer work for this morning and I need a bath, a nap, and to develop some pictures for my paper crafts. I had a great idea about a present for my husband for Christmas and that requires pics. Or not. I could just use my pretty ribbons, etc. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, and if my computer does ever work, I’ll do it for sure.

I feel like Randi is a friend who is closer than a sister. (Proverbs 18:24) I get genuine concern from her and even. I know it’s okay to call, or text, or leave pms on Facebook ten times a day if I need to do so. I can ask her to walk my child to and from school. I probably could even ask for some orange juice. I am happy to find her. I have other, wonderful friends I have here, but none so close. I also like that she is persistent. There are things that I don’t want to do that she convinced me to do (hello, Scrapbooking!) and they turn out to be fun, but she will take no thank you for an answer. I appreciate that too. Many of my very good friends take no for answer, quickly, and I do appreciate that, but when I heard someone being convinced to do something, I honestly felt a little, I don’t know, jealous? Why are they not-persistent with me? Did they just ask to be polite, or what? Do they really not like me?

I’ve talked a little bit about my good friend, Tori. She and are are able to share clothes because we hover around the same weight. She’s in her sixties, but likes beautiful, colorful things, and jeans. I’m wearing one of her hoodies right now. I was telling an old friend about her and she said, “I want that.” It’s strange because I did want to get to know her better and have more time with her and her gorgeous little girls. She seemed to have close girlfriends so I just didn’t pursue it, and now it’s kinda too late. I don’t really want to make that mistake again. I’m not saying that I’m going to chase around other women, but I will pray for them and take my feelings to lead those prayers.

Of course there are people I wouldn’t choose to know better, but God puts those people in our paths as well. I had a girl I called my friend that I discipled for over a year. Quite honestly, I never look forward to it. She had this soft, barely discernible voice and that sort of thing never sits well with me. I truly dreaded it. Just about everything about it.

But when she came in, she was always wonderful. She is very smart and always did her homework. She asked excellent questions, sometimes very personal questions about herself and her newlywed life. It was an absolute honor to look through the Bible with her, and we both wound up learning a whole lot. (If any of my readers can guess who this is, please keep it in your hearts.)

We were neighbors in an apartment complex, the family I spoke about before, and one of the men there had an incredibly romantic idea or putting one flour on the step saying one of the things he loved about her. I threw a fit. I had been single for something like five+ years. I told my friends that I was tired of pretending that every thing was okay and that I wanted 23 flowers of my own. That I didn’t buy.

A few months later was Valentines Day. She and her husband made me a beautiful card that listed, you betcha… Twenty four reasons we love our Malakoa. It was cry worthy. I was super blessed to have these people in my life. Ecclesiastes 4:10 says, “f one falls, the other can help his friend get up. But how tragic it is for the one who is [all] alone when he falls. There is no one to help him get up.” I had fallen, but was lifted by my friends. I feel like that is happening now, too. It look two years to have met her, even though, I am glad.

This is one of those totally random entries. I hope it does touch those of you who are struggling and lonely. When I am depressed, it is a lot like PMS, to tell you the truth. I feel like not only does no one love me, but no one will ever love me. I spend as much time in the world in bed and only want to eat fried things. But most of all, I am more flawed any anyone else I know. I remember standing in a room of severely developmentally disabled students and feeling completely alone. I wasn’t good enough to be a part of that group. I was damaged too much. (This is before my diagnosis). I tried to talk myself of it, for some reason I had enough of my brain working to kick those thoughts, but I can’t always do it.

Okay, I should rest. I am so very tired, I feel weak and need a break.

All best to you,

Malakoa