Coming back to the real world

I should have been blogging

The past year has been the proverbial emotional roller coaster. I have been in therapy consistently since January 2011. I went because the grief over my Dad’s death was taking over my life. I knew I had serious issues I had to get out of my system. I hoped that by doing this, I would be a better wife and mother. I cried. I wrote lists. I read about coping skills. I slowly began to feel better about myself and get a view of what I want out of my life.

Even with this new found value system, I was still mired in depression. I did all that I could do to make everyone around me comfortable to the point of physical exhaustion. I blamed my sleepiness and headaches on allergies. Late that spring, M went on a work trip to the east coast. The timing could not have sucked more. By mid-summer, my dear therapist sent me across the hall to the psychiatrist. My symptoms were contradictory to the progress I had made in my sessions plus the Effexor I was taking should have been enough. Ugh, the last time I saw the psych, he just threw more prescriptions at me and sent me on my way. Then he told me that that doctor had been booted for the reasons I cited and there was a new provider in the medical department.

With a heaving sigh, I made an appointment. I am so glad that I did. Dr. P and I clicked right from the start. She is friendly and kind yet doesn’t pull punches. She told me that without my high intelligence, I very likely would have taken a tragic turn years ago. That was a compliment and a shock. After describing my past and going through a few questionnaires, she concluded that I fall smack into the protocol for Bipolar, most likely Type II. Damn. Another check on the “just like my parents” list. I know see her every few months for check ups. Each time, she remarks on how much better I appear. From someone who is trained to read minds, that is an honor.

When M called me after work (still working out of state) I mumbled my diagnosis. The response he gave felt like a “duh.” He was coming home in a few weeks and I placed hope above hope that having him back home would boost my mood.


It’s eight p.m. and I ain’t got nothin

We said today we would talk. He arranged a neutral location. We got take out.

Then he tells me he has to take his new car for stereo repairs. The car that he has had less than a month. The car that needed stereo repairs the day after he bought it.

When I asked when we would go get the cough:minivan:cough that the kids and I NEED, he says, I must wait. Let’s move first. Being closer to work the past two weeks (did I mention that I booted him after our last argument over the vehicle purchasing debacle?) has made him realize that I was right. Six months ago!

He backed out of TWO house purchases. I’m gunshy now. Then the next reason he gives me for not wanting me to get another vehicle is the same one he said about buying a house! I’m not a good enough housekeeper and now my car cleaning skills have taken away my rights to a more appropriate size car for my kids.

Utter bullshit. Then he goes to work. Says he’ll be back in an hour. I went for my daily run. I showered changed and such.

We’re going on three hours now. So, I’m sitting in the bar next to his work drinking whiskey.

My steamer clams just arrived. Looks like I’m eating alone.