The weekend was awful. Well, Sunday was awful. I had, I suppose, a mini bipolar meltdown. A spin-down. My centrifuge dropped me down its middle into my foggy, overspent brain and just spat me out. This may have been drug-induced, but not completely.
Over cards Saturday night, my husband inadvertently insulted me about something—my rudeness, utter lack of manners. And a close friend echoed and encouraged/agreed with him in this. I know they figured that this would never have bothered me because I have always been that fuck-off-I’m-me-and-it’s-better-to-be-like-me-anyway sort of person. But I strive to be different now, to be more thoughtful, kinder, and yes, to have better manners. Evidently I have failed, utterly, at this.
During the course of Saturday evening, I took 2 of my pain pills. And I had a couple of beers. I was only going to take a wee bite of the 2nd pill which I was taking some hours after the first, but I was at the table and as I tried to bite it I was suddenly embarrassed (no wonder after that comment) and I just took the whole thing. So my sleep was completely shot and an earworm began about the insult and I got up at 3:10 and by the time my husband got up I was crazed with hurt and fury. And so humiliated.
I blasted him. I ground down my teeth lashing out. I was furious. Wounded. And he took the brave decision of asking me about how I’ve been going down on my bipolar meds and he was right to ask it because I was crazed but this made me even more furious because of the way he always logics everything to death I swear when you are a person like me who is so always-always-always the one to heave to standing your ground in an argument, trying to just stick to your own reality and not end up feeling undermined when you do give over to the logic of the thing is humiliating and exhausting.
And there was the snowball effect as I mired into the gunk of my feelings everything began to change color and I was, finally, even thinking of moving myself into my father’s house and living there apart away, away, away from my husband and his cruel words and my god…I never think/act like this unless I am HURT the full and complete entirety of my internal acreage.
Which I was.
Strung out and unable to use DBT skills….though I did paint (have I mentioned that I have begun painting and am painting the ugliest ugliest things you can imagine. They are so terrible they take one’s breath) and finished The End of the Affair, and drew flowers (my latest obsession) and tried and tried and tried and tried so hard hard hard not to become furious. Not to cry. Not to just wail with hurt. It was a very, very bad awful no-good day.
Because of course I dragged my husband down with me and by the end of the day he was as miserable as I.
But today will be better. I slept. I really did. And I am going to go to food shop if my poor knee will allow and of course it will where there’s a will.
And the plumbers are coming to give us an estimate on washer/dryer hookups. We are moving the washer/dryer up to the main level which will be such a BOON.
Now I will prepare my list….no, now I will leave and get some breakfast as I haven’t eaten for many, many hours, and prepare my lists on the way to the store!
~r.
