I haven’t been well lately. I felt like I had an ax chop my heart in to four efficient slices. If you do it right, that’s the way trees come on down. I feel nausea right now and it’s because I took my multi-vitamin without enough food. I had goat’s cheese and cherries for breakfast. Enough for all the tiny pills I take, but not for those big ‘ole vitamins. I got gummi vitamin-B complexes and those got rid of most of my vomiting. I was throwing up most mornings. (Like, five mornings a week.) The strange thing is that it never came to me to stop taking the pills. They were making me sick, but I still saw them as my life boat. I never thought that I could just drop them. If I didn’t take them I most surely would die, and would take my daughter with me. There are folks out there who can be bipolar and not take meds, but I am utterly convinced I will never be one of them.
My husband has said for a while that I can be awfully cruel when I’m having an episode. I say and do things that no one should do. I fought off that thought because I wanted to have my own life and feelings apart from being manic depressive. Why is it it’s my illness and not just me? Can’t I be a jerk now and again.
It turns out, no. I cannot be that kind of jerk now and again.
Oh, I can be selfish and eat all the ice cream left in the freezer. I can turn the radio up really high without thinking about who can hear it and I can get in fights and make plans to get the heck out of here. But that is not what he meant.
We had a very nice fight about two, maybe three, weeks ago. I remember very little about it. A few days afterwards we were arguing (rather than fighting) and he replayed some of the things I said to him.
I kind of remembered some of the topics we covered, but it was like being very drunk. I am sort of present, but I couldn’t remember whose lap I sat on or even who I spent the evening with. I don’t remember the beginning nor when I crossed over to the monster I become while full blown manic. I was not an angry drunk, just a curious one. I can’t say that I am not an angry manic depressive.
I said things no one should ever say and at the time I meant every single word of it. If my husband treated me the way I treated him he would be long gone, no question.
I never want to do that to him or anyone else. There are signs before I get to those places. I start snapping at people and mad enough to plan on running away from home. In these bizarre fantasies my daughter comes with me; I promised her I would never leave her behind and I wouldn’t. Those plans are born of imbalanced chemicals. My husband is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but he is good to me and good to our daughter most of the time. He doesn’t deserve to hear the things I said.
Just a few days ago, he said to me, “I desperately want to stay married to you.” For the life of me I can’t figure out why. I am (or have been – if I’ve really changed I don’t know yet.) abusive and lazy. I do nothing around the house for days (weeks) at a time. The list of what I do and what I am that is cruel, and wrong goes on and on and about a third of this is caused by my mental illnesses.
2/3 = 66%
Am I worth it?