The Quiet Crash and Burn

I am falling apart inside, and almost no one knows.  I don’t talk about it much, but I do cry a lot.  I find myself extremely anxious and irritable for no reason.  I find myself thinking negative things of myself and wondering why on Earth anyone would want to be in any kind of friendship or relationship with me.  I find myself worrying (unnecessarily, I am sure) that DSB is going to get tired of the winter depression and bolt.  But he did say it…every winter, here we go.

In insanely good news, I have my old therapist, Goddess of Mindfulness, back.  My previous therapist and I were not a good match, and I felt there was  more that I wanted to work on than what she wanted me to.  I saw her in early December, and she suggested that after another session or so, I wouldn’t need therapy at all anymore.  I thought on that, accepted that as fact, and then had to re-evaluate.  There is so much in my life that needs helping, correcting, tweaking, re-learning, growing through.  As long as I can afford it, and I need it, I’m going to find a way.

In terribly bad news, I have been significantly depressed since around Christmas, worsening around the New Year.  A lot of negativity, anxiety, irritability, sadness, crying spells, and three panic attacks.  I am not coping well.  I am just hanging on.

And it comes and it goes.  It’s the lovely ups and downs of bipolar disorder, those chaotic mood swings.  One minute I feel like I might be able to accomplish anything and the next, I can’t make myself take a shower or brush my teeth.  One minute, I’m cleaning the kitchen and then once I’m done, I’m sitting in my dining room crying my eyes out over some perceived slight.

This gets tiresome.  This year, after year, after year nonsense.  I should probably be using my sunlamp.  I have missed a few doses of Ritalin.  I should know what to do.  I should know exactly what to do.  It’s the doing of it that seems so impossible.  Get up and function, tough through it, stop being a whiner.  Just do it.

Is it really that simple?  Just do it?  Just get off your fat, lazy ass and do something about this terrible anxiety and depression that are pervading your life?  I think, well, no, it can’t be QUITE that simple, or I would have done it by now, 32 years later.  There are things I can do to make myself better, little things, and I am doing those little things.  Life is such, however, that all of those little things added together sometimes aren’t enough.

So you pick a fight with your boyfriend and sit and cry awhile at the dining room table.  And think about how he will probably leave you.  And think that you  have no one you can call.  So you cry some more.  And think about asking your boyfriend if he is going to leave you.  And hold your dog, it’s fur soaking up your tears, unconditional love if there ever was any.  And you calm yourself, clean your kitchen, and go to see if you can make a peace offering to your boyfriend.  And hope it works.

And for now, that’s all I have the power within to do.  Light that candle for me.

Nicotine-Craving-Induced Blah Blah Blah — Beware

I finally convinced DSB to go to Thanksgiving today.  In direct defiance of some of the posts I have written, I flat-out begged.  It was just too important for him to be there, to me.  He went and didn’t have a bad time, but said he paid particular attention to the way my family treats each other and saw things he didn’t like.

My mom being bossed around by me and my sisters.  My mom’s advice being discounted and thrown away.  My stepdad making fun of the way Mom looked.  The lack of help in the kitchen department from my stepdad and myself.  The demand that the Big Dawg be the first to eat.

All true.  All shamefully true, and if I could have it back, I would do it differently.  My brain is operating on a funny wavelength, born out of nicotine withdrawal and the disappearance of my steady comfort and escape route, my forays out into the cold to smoke “real quick.”  I didn’t have any such breaks today, save for one, when I went and puffed on my e-cig while DSB smoked a “real” cigarette.

I didn’t have anything to hide behind and it was painful.  I wanted to do more but felt tied to my chair, sitting on my hands.  I wanted to give more, but I didn’t feel anything within me to give.  I was spent and the entire day went that way.

My sister and her husband ended up staying a good while into the evening; whereas, I hauled ass about an hour after dinner was done.  I couldn’t wait to get home and watch a  Grimm marathon and maybe eat a little pie and be in a place where I didn’t have to pretend so much.  And then DSB and I started fighting.

And we fought and we fought.  And he threatened to leave and I threatened to kick him out and it was altogether horrible.  I don’t know that we have mended that fence yet, but no one is leaving.  As of yet.  DSB has little tolerance for my nicotine-deprived moodiness and I have little tolerance for his holier than thou approach to the holidays.  It is an ugly time of year for us.

For the past few days, things have been sliding downhill with DSB.  We have argued more than we have said kind things, and it is wearing on me.  I know it is wearing on him, too.  I know it is the quitting smoking, and even how that has affected him.  I asked him to smoke outside and it is quite cold out.  He doesn’t feel he should have to do that and, really, I feel bad asking him to.

We made an arrangement today that the only place in the house where people can smoke is the dining room, where there are many windows that can be opened, a ceiling fan, and a lot of space.  I think this will work out well, too, for when QoB comes over because this is generally where we will hang out and then I won’t have to ask her to smoke outside, too.

I didn’t think this was going to be that complicated.  I was just going to quit and that was going to be that.  This hasn’t been just that and I am constantly revamping how I am doing things, hopefully for the better.  I am just ready to be rid of cigarettes for good and I can’t stand smoking one anymore.  I know this because I tried.  And no, I’m not resetting my quit counter for a couple puffs of a cigarette, although the Cig Nazis in my support forum would say I should.  I’m just not, and that’s that.

I know all of these posts lately have been about cigarettes and I do hope I’m not boring my three readers to death with all of this, but it is important to me and this blog is, like I’ve said a million times, for my benefit.  If I wanted to blog about the migration pattern of flamingos (which is actually quite interesting) for the next decade, then I will.

I hope DSB and I can come through this and be okay.  I hope I haven’t offended my mom too much with being the apparent brat that I was today, and I do hope I’ll get to see my sister again before she pops out that baby.  I love her to death, but am always just so uncomfortable around her, to the point that it is painful.  And now she is doing something I can’t do, having a baby, and it almost kills me inside to see her round happy belly.

Don’t get me wrong, because I am  happy for my sister and her husband and my soon-to-be nephew, but I can’t say it doesn’t hurt that this will never happen to me.  And I’ve accepted that as a part of my life.  I had to or it would have killed me.  Literally.

Oh the tremendous emotions I am rolling on today.  I have been up since 4:00 a.m., hoping to end the fight that got started last night with DSB, and have been up and alert ever since, just hoping for some peace.  He went to bed really early and I’m left to wander around and to my own devices.  I have ordered two books from the library, so maybe it’s time to just go snuggle in bed and read a good book.

Three days, 10 hours, 24 minutes and 5 seconds. 206 cigarettes not smoked, saving $26.16. Life saved: 17 hours, 10 minutes.