I don’t even know where to begin, where it all ends. . . Actually the latter part isn’t true, I know where it ends. It ends with me.
I’m bipolar. It took this last hospital stay at barely 33 to come up with a diagnosis for something that was onset when I was 10, I am bipolar. What makes me special is I don’t get manic in the way most people with bipolar do. I am very rooted to the ground but that doesn’t keep my head from being in the sky. I get to live the dual life and understand what it’s like to be perceived as normal. . . Until I’m just not. The shame associated with mental disease is so hard. My David is bipolar. Full blown bipolar. I can seem together when there is a storm on the inside. He felt safe losing it, holding it together by a thread, trying to keep his job and not go into the hospital again. I’m so proud of him. Not so much of myself. My foundation is cracked. You may not be able to tell from looking at the structure, but I’m a very broken person. I suffer from PTSD from two separate times in my life, the very gruesome death of my father, and an abusive marriage to someone I really was in love with. People don’t get how being bipolar I’ve held it together, my therapist has commented how rare it is but really I just had to. My codependency issues, always taking care of everyone else, I made myself seem strong. When I feared for myself I didn’t let it take precedence over what I had to do. I had to keep a job for my daughter, I had to be strong so my ex didn’t fall apart, If I cried I got yelled at so I couldn’t cry. So much of who I am is a front mixed in with a very unhealthy dose of mental illness and I don’t know how to strip it all down and just be Brittany again. I’ve cared for myself and everyone else around me since I was 11 years old. How do you just stop?
So that’s my goal. I’m not going to do anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn’t feel right. I’m going to try, actually make a huge effort to stop worrying about everything. I have always known it doesn’t change anything.
My trust issues are going to be a HUGE barrier to overcome. What does trust really mean, do I truly trust anyone? No I don’t. I think I’ve gotten over the place in my life where I think anyone does anything to intentionally hurt anyone. There is always a self centered reason people do what they do and it has nothing to do with me. But I never trusted Loki to do what needed to be done and overwhelmed myself with the burden. It was a huge disservice to him and to me. I’m not saying his violence towards me was justified or OK but I can see where his anger and frustration came from. I never trusted him to be my partner. Do you know how much I want to trust David? I don’t think he even knows. My distrust in him has very little to do with him, though some of his actions towards me gave me reason to wonder but maybe, just maybe if I could trust him to begin with, he would be careful with something so precious. This sounds awful, and I say these things without malice towards my mother who has been nothing but good to me but I couldn’t trust her to care for me when I needed her to as a child, she was so sick with her own anguish, she neglected my needs. I couldn’t trust my sister not hurt me, to look out for me, to be a decent human towards me. I couldn’t trust that people don’t leave. My dad died. I knew people left. With him, to my child brain so did a huge portion of my family, childhood friends, all the people I never saw again or not for a few years. My eight year old heart had been demolished in ways most people don’t understand until they are in their 20s. My innocence in the world shattered along with my family and everything I knew before my eighth birthday. I never learned to trust people. And I blamed them because I didn’t understand. And I have no idea how to fix this. But I will.
So back to present times. David lost it. I’m driving him around as he is having this breakdown, offering him anything I can, my hand which he rejected and took back later, words which were always thrown back at me, asking him what he needed. You cannot reason with someone in the state he was in. I knew I was crumbling at the foundation, but per usual only myself and therapist knew (in true Brittany style) who I luckily saw right before this completely unfolded. He had already set off my ptsd triggers, which means fight or flight, I was in a car with him so fighting was my option. He spat venom my direction, not at me, but in my direction and I spit back, probably the most hurtful thing you can say, from someone who has been there, I called him a psychopath. He was trusting me, being vulnerable, and being scared I hurled it out and told him he was being a psychopath. He jumped out of the car and went to a friend’s house who was very protective of him and just assumed me to be the worst at this point.
Although my foundation was in complete disarray, the house was only beginning to buckle. At this point I’m so hurt and angry that this mutual friend (there were two present but I feel the other friend was more sympathetic towards me than the other and saw the buckling house for what it was) is I feel judging me just based off what little she knows of my day. At this point I’m not sure what I am doing. I promised David I would see him off to work the next day.
I keep at this anger, this mask that I have until I completely feel free to just let it come crashing down. I just cry, and cry, and cry, and cry some more. After sleeping, swollen eyes, and all I just decide to do. To stop being told how to act or react. I deleted my Facebook, and honestly I feel it’s probably the best way to heal at this point. I didn’t avoid the mutual friend and just go to the place of distrust again. Instead I talked to her. I tried to help her understand. And it went pretty well.
So, I don’t know what I am doing, I am just doing. I don’t know who I am but I think I’m getting the idea.