So. Tired. Stayed up all night alternating between trying to distract myself with Arrested Development on Netflix and bawling my eyes out. It hurts; it really hurts. I hope things will change in a week or so. I really miss J. Alas, I must be patient.
Been working on my 30-before-30 list. Hope to post this soon.
Plan for the evening:
1. buy wine
2. gym
3. grocery store
4. take my meds
5. eat something
6. watch The Royal Tenenbaums
7. take benadryl
8. hopefully sleep more than 4 hours
Ready, Go. I only have about 1/2 hour left at work....
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A definition
I have a love for J. that is real. It's deep and it's strong. Wanting to end my relationship with him would be for shallow reasons - the same kinds of shallow reasons that have damaged our relationship. Because other people don't like him, because other people think that he is not productive, because other people think that he should marry me. I am different. I am not like other people. I can take care of myself, provide for myself, fill my time with things other than marriage. But I do love J. I do want him to be a part of my life. I want to talk to him, sit with him, make love to him. Doubts are natural in any relationship. Other people's doubts have always been stronger than my own. My plans and dreams have worked out, despite other people's idea of what I should be doing. This should be no different.
I appreciate a strong person, an individual. I am one myself. I am. Even though the last year or more has expressed otherwise. I have achieved much and I am capable of achieving much. I have suddenly remembered this, this that I knew all along, but forgot for a while.
I want J. in my life, and if he doesn't want to be, then I will have no choice but to move on. If he needs time to experience life on his own, then it's going to depend on the picture and the degree of our relationship. I don't know if I want to deal with an un-clean break. If he thinks that he could, I might consider it.
But if time is all he needs, then time is what I have. I have lots of things that I can focus on in the meantime. A new job, a grad school, a published story, actually writing a story that could be published, a lot of books that I haven't read, a lot of hours that I can spend writing, reading, dancing, meeting and fostering friendships. I am not interested in pursuing another person in my life. I am not interested in spending time seeking out, finding, and pursuing men. I am really uninterested. I am not motivated by sex, and while I may be motivated by the excitement of "the chase" with men, the emotional navigation required is just...not worth it. Why have I gone through my boy crazy phase now and dedicated to one person? I've spent so much time and energy on this relationship and probably pushed it much further than it should have gone. Four years? Four years out of eighty isn't much. Four years is a lot to bond over, but the number is not a reason to push things. Back when folks got married at 16 with only a few months of courtship, they only had about 20 years to hang out before they died.
At J.'s commencement, the guy said that we should take advantage of our life expectancy. I plan to do that by being open to J.'s decision. As long as I don't feel used, I am down for this.
I appreciate a strong person, an individual. I am one myself. I am. Even though the last year or more has expressed otherwise. I have achieved much and I am capable of achieving much. I have suddenly remembered this, this that I knew all along, but forgot for a while.
I want J. in my life, and if he doesn't want to be, then I will have no choice but to move on. If he needs time to experience life on his own, then it's going to depend on the picture and the degree of our relationship. I don't know if I want to deal with an un-clean break. If he thinks that he could, I might consider it.
But if time is all he needs, then time is what I have. I have lots of things that I can focus on in the meantime. A new job, a grad school, a published story, actually writing a story that could be published, a lot of books that I haven't read, a lot of hours that I can spend writing, reading, dancing, meeting and fostering friendships. I am not interested in pursuing another person in my life. I am not interested in spending time seeking out, finding, and pursuing men. I am really uninterested. I am not motivated by sex, and while I may be motivated by the excitement of "the chase" with men, the emotional navigation required is just...not worth it. Why have I gone through my boy crazy phase now and dedicated to one person? I've spent so much time and energy on this relationship and probably pushed it much further than it should have gone. Four years? Four years out of eighty isn't much. Four years is a lot to bond over, but the number is not a reason to push things. Back when folks got married at 16 with only a few months of courtship, they only had about 20 years to hang out before they died.
At J.'s commencement, the guy said that we should take advantage of our life expectancy. I plan to do that by being open to J.'s decision. As long as I don't feel used, I am down for this.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Four days of not really talking to J.
has come to an end. It was really driving me crazy not knowing what J. was thinking, so I sent him a very basic email. Something like "I'm not trying to intrude on your space, but I was hoping to find out what's going on in your head."
So he called me several hours later...and I don't know if we're in a better position or not. Here's my stance - I love him. I want to be with him. I know that we could work together, for a long, long time if we're both willing to give a certain amount. We have a lot in common when it comes to "big picture" things and life philosophies. Our relationship has been under a lot of stress in the last year, however.
I graduated from college and entered the work force. I didn't make a big deal out of this. I just did it. I didn't even go to my graduation, I basically went to a job interview and took a job about 2 weeks later. And just onward from there. I didn't really take the time to process it.That was probably a mistake.
Meanwhile, he's really taken an interest in his personal and professional life. He spends a lot of time reading, studying, reading, studying. He has strong passion for his interests and his work, taking things seriously, more so than ever before. He quit his part-time job to take 18 hours of classes and finish school...he has been in school for about 2.5 years straight...no summers off, nothing.
We've both been acting a little bit more like grownups. I've dealt with a lot more stress. While school was definitely stressful for me, I have experienced a deeper kind of stress in the work force. I have always had a strong sense of self, a knowledge of "what kind of person" I was, generally what I wanted (not specifically, but generally), and what I sought in a relationship. After 2-3 years together, a lot of people started asking me when/if me and J. were going to get married. Aside from this being a rude and personal question to ask if you're not my close personal friend, it was also irrelevant to me at the time. I had a great philosophy, which was "if we are enjoying our relationship, then we are going to be in it, there's no reason to change that or call it something different if it's going well."
Somewhere along the way, I stopped saying that. I stopped saying it to myself, I stopped saying it to other people. Instead, I started saying, "we'll probably get married in the next few years." In a year or two, I told myself. Why? I don't know. I really don't. Some combination of living in the South, where if you're not married by 23 you're an old maid and my job, in which I work with 100s of brides on a daily basis and write somewhat in-depth stories about how much they and their husbands are in love and want to tell the world. Literally six people that I knew got engaged and/or married, including my friend. I was her Maid of Honor. This crap takes a toll on you, as a southern woman. Despite my childhood ambition of being a single, professional, free spirit professional woman, I am still southern. Add my lost perspective to the extra stress, the untreated issues of depression, anxiety, bipolar, whatever, and I probably haven't been much fun for a young man to deal with.
He said tonight that he once felt like our relationship was young and carefree, a no-brainer, a natural thing. Now, he says, it didn't feel like that. He said he loved me, but that he didn't have the same feelings. I reminded him that when we met, we were 19. Now, we're 24 going on 25. It's not possible to have a happy-go-lucky relationship all the time forever, especially since we're not college students hanging out getting drunk. But I know what he means about the feeling. I feel like that feeling stuff, that excitement, fun and happiness is mostly my fault. I've seen us both look to other places for that fun and enjoyment. One example - he's gone off with his friends (they're all Eastern European) to hang out at his uncle's farm--did I go? No. I was invited. The main reason I didn't go is so stupid it's embarrassing for me to admit to myself.
I didn't go because his friends, at least the girls, are really skinny. I have always, always wished that I was one of those "tiny" girls -- a pixie-size miniature version of a human. Alas, I grew up in America, where an overabundance of food and an ancestry of people who also enjoyed this food abundance grew taller, bigger boned, and with extra fat packets and passed down their big ole American genes to me. I'm not saying I'm a fat monster, I'm just not that Russian-model sized girl. I couldn't bear the thought of running around in the sweltering heat at a farm, watching their stick legs stick out of their tiny shorts, while I, in my baggy skirt and T-shirt felt like a fatty. This, of course, is ridiculous. First of all, J. thinks I'm hot and loves my shape and size. Second of all, these girls aren't American, so they probably don't have the kind of complex we do about comparing ourselves to other women. Thirdly, if they did think badly of my thighs, then who gives a fuck? But really, the worst part about my psychosis about this matter is the fact that I told J. this. I told him that I would feel bad about my size compared to theirs.
There are some things better left unsaid. Some internal thoughts that ought not to be shared. That was a dysfunctional thought that I should have shared with a) a diary, b) a therapist or c) a close girlfriend who might have a better understanding and told me to shut-up. That's not boyfriend sharing with material. This lack of self-esteem on my part was repeated OVER and OVER again, and J. even told me that hearing that kind of thing was damaging to his view of me. It also crossed over into other areas of my life, telling myself how bad at was at this or that, or how I was a failure in this or that.
Undoubtedly, this was the single most damaging aspect of j.'s feelings for me.
More on what he actually said...coming.
So he called me several hours later...and I don't know if we're in a better position or not. Here's my stance - I love him. I want to be with him. I know that we could work together, for a long, long time if we're both willing to give a certain amount. We have a lot in common when it comes to "big picture" things and life philosophies. Our relationship has been under a lot of stress in the last year, however.
I graduated from college and entered the work force. I didn't make a big deal out of this. I just did it. I didn't even go to my graduation, I basically went to a job interview and took a job about 2 weeks later. And just onward from there. I didn't really take the time to process it.That was probably a mistake.
Meanwhile, he's really taken an interest in his personal and professional life. He spends a lot of time reading, studying, reading, studying. He has strong passion for his interests and his work, taking things seriously, more so than ever before. He quit his part-time job to take 18 hours of classes and finish school...he has been in school for about 2.5 years straight...no summers off, nothing.
We've both been acting a little bit more like grownups. I've dealt with a lot more stress. While school was definitely stressful for me, I have experienced a deeper kind of stress in the work force. I have always had a strong sense of self, a knowledge of "what kind of person" I was, generally what I wanted (not specifically, but generally), and what I sought in a relationship. After 2-3 years together, a lot of people started asking me when/if me and J. were going to get married. Aside from this being a rude and personal question to ask if you're not my close personal friend, it was also irrelevant to me at the time. I had a great philosophy, which was "if we are enjoying our relationship, then we are going to be in it, there's no reason to change that or call it something different if it's going well."
Somewhere along the way, I stopped saying that. I stopped saying it to myself, I stopped saying it to other people. Instead, I started saying, "we'll probably get married in the next few years." In a year or two, I told myself. Why? I don't know. I really don't. Some combination of living in the South, where if you're not married by 23 you're an old maid and my job, in which I work with 100s of brides on a daily basis and write somewhat in-depth stories about how much they and their husbands are in love and want to tell the world. Literally six people that I knew got engaged and/or married, including my friend. I was her Maid of Honor. This crap takes a toll on you, as a southern woman. Despite my childhood ambition of being a single, professional, free spirit professional woman, I am still southern. Add my lost perspective to the extra stress, the untreated issues of depression, anxiety, bipolar, whatever, and I probably haven't been much fun for a young man to deal with.
He said tonight that he once felt like our relationship was young and carefree, a no-brainer, a natural thing. Now, he says, it didn't feel like that. He said he loved me, but that he didn't have the same feelings. I reminded him that when we met, we were 19. Now, we're 24 going on 25. It's not possible to have a happy-go-lucky relationship all the time forever, especially since we're not college students hanging out getting drunk. But I know what he means about the feeling. I feel like that feeling stuff, that excitement, fun and happiness is mostly my fault. I've seen us both look to other places for that fun and enjoyment. One example - he's gone off with his friends (they're all Eastern European) to hang out at his uncle's farm--did I go? No. I was invited. The main reason I didn't go is so stupid it's embarrassing for me to admit to myself.
I didn't go because his friends, at least the girls, are really skinny. I have always, always wished that I was one of those "tiny" girls -- a pixie-size miniature version of a human. Alas, I grew up in America, where an overabundance of food and an ancestry of people who also enjoyed this food abundance grew taller, bigger boned, and with extra fat packets and passed down their big ole American genes to me. I'm not saying I'm a fat monster, I'm just not that Russian-model sized girl. I couldn't bear the thought of running around in the sweltering heat at a farm, watching their stick legs stick out of their tiny shorts, while I, in my baggy skirt and T-shirt felt like a fatty. This, of course, is ridiculous. First of all, J. thinks I'm hot and loves my shape and size. Second of all, these girls aren't American, so they probably don't have the kind of complex we do about comparing ourselves to other women. Thirdly, if they did think badly of my thighs, then who gives a fuck? But really, the worst part about my psychosis about this matter is the fact that I told J. this. I told him that I would feel bad about my size compared to theirs.
There are some things better left unsaid. Some internal thoughts that ought not to be shared. That was a dysfunctional thought that I should have shared with a) a diary, b) a therapist or c) a close girlfriend who might have a better understanding and told me to shut-up. That's not boyfriend sharing with material. This lack of self-esteem on my part was repeated OVER and OVER again, and J. even told me that hearing that kind of thing was damaging to his view of me. It also crossed over into other areas of my life, telling myself how bad at was at this or that, or how I was a failure in this or that.
Undoubtedly, this was the single most damaging aspect of j.'s feelings for me.
More on what he actually said...coming.
A Modest, Drunken Proposal
Several years ago when he was still drinking, after a really intense bender for which he was still extremely drunk, J. was being really mean and inappropriate to me and our friends. I decided to take him and his friend back home, but I asked his friend to sit in the front seat because J. was being really horrible and I wanted him in the back seat.
As he swayed and whined, drunk as a skunk, he suddenly asked me to marry him. I just took it as ridiculous drunken talk, and was kind of sad and offended that he had decided to ask me in that state. I proudly and flippantly said no. But it was super awkward.
The other day when we were arguing and disentangling, he said "I asked you to marry me before." I can only assume that he meant that one time, about 3 years ago, when he had done so while intoxicated. I basically said, "No you didn't" but it made me feel like that one time meant something to him, in some way, and that my rejection of his proposal, however not-serious I thought he was, made him sad. I'd like to ask him about it, to clear the air, to let him know that I loved him when he was a drunk, and I love him now, but that I didn't take him seriously and I didn't think that it was an appropriate or even valid way to ask. To me, it was basically just drunken ramble and I treated it as such. Maybe he was "testing" me to see if I would be with him "in sickness and in health."
As he swayed and whined, drunk as a skunk, he suddenly asked me to marry him. I just took it as ridiculous drunken talk, and was kind of sad and offended that he had decided to ask me in that state. I proudly and flippantly said no. But it was super awkward.
The other day when we were arguing and disentangling, he said "I asked you to marry me before." I can only assume that he meant that one time, about 3 years ago, when he had done so while intoxicated. I basically said, "No you didn't" but it made me feel like that one time meant something to him, in some way, and that my rejection of his proposal, however not-serious I thought he was, made him sad. I'd like to ask him about it, to clear the air, to let him know that I loved him when he was a drunk, and I love him now, but that I didn't take him seriously and I didn't think that it was an appropriate or even valid way to ask. To me, it was basically just drunken ramble and I treated it as such. Maybe he was "testing" me to see if I would be with him "in sickness and in health."
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Found this post from June 1 - triggers galore
Here is a draft I wrote on June 1, but never published for obvious reasons. Kind of explains the kind of interactions I've had with J. that probably caused him to get sick of me:
I'm still going. I kicked J. out. I'm going crazy. I'm a total mess. I don't know what to do. I told him to leave but I really really wanted him to stay. I have no relief, no help, no medical care. I'm too afraid to go to the hospital because I won't be able to work. I have work in 5 hours. I have a lot of anxiety about not getting enough sleep. I don't know what to do, and I have nowhere but this blog to turn. I tried to leave, wanted to kill myself, just wanted the pain to stop. J. had to stop me. Then I told him if he left, I wouldn't harm myself. But I realy just wanted him to stay and us to live happily ever after. But I feel like that's being taken away from me because of my mental illness. I've given up and I need serious medical help but I had to miss my appt. due to Memorial Day.
I know that I am going to alienate anyone who is reading this, but J. has already left me for the evening and I feel like knives are stabbing me in the heart, the pain is so bad.
I'm still going. I kicked J. out. I'm going crazy. I'm a total mess. I don't know what to do. I told him to leave but I really really wanted him to stay. I have no relief, no help, no medical care. I'm too afraid to go to the hospital because I won't be able to work. I have work in 5 hours. I have a lot of anxiety about not getting enough sleep. I don't know what to do, and I have nowhere but this blog to turn. I tried to leave, wanted to kill myself, just wanted the pain to stop. J. had to stop me. Then I told him if he left, I wouldn't harm myself. But I realy just wanted him to stay and us to live happily ever after. But I feel like that's being taken away from me because of my mental illness. I've given up and I need serious medical help but I had to miss my appt. due to Memorial Day.
I know that I am going to alienate anyone who is reading this, but J. has already left me for the evening and I feel like knives are stabbing me in the heart, the pain is so bad.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Med Questions - Should I take bipolar medication?
My hesitation and problems with medication partially stem from my past experiences. About 4 years ago, I was on Lexapro for a short period of time. I wasn't in therapy, I was living at home (a mental health minefield) and I didn't see any results. My psychiatrist upped my dosage a few times, but didn't want to listen to me talk about the issues. I didn't understand that she wasn't a therapist, just a script writer. No one explained that to me. It was like:
" Hi there, how are you feeling?"
"I'm not feeling any better...my thoughts are pretty nega--"
"Well, let's just do 200mg instead of 100mg then. That should help those thoughts go away."
"But I think if I just could talk abou-"
"Here's your prescription, see you next time."
When I went to my new psychiatrist about 5 weeks ago, we spent much more time talking about the issues and I felt good about it overall. I told him my symptoms, etc. without telling him that my therapist had decided I was bipolar II. When he heard that the whole Lexapro experience, he immediately decided that I was bipolar II because the antidepresant didn't help me. I honestly have a hard time remembering 4 years ago and given the circumstances, I don't know if anything would have made me feel better at that time. It just doesn't seem like something to base a diagnosis on. But with the other symptoms I had, I figured that my annoyance with the Lexapro situation wasn't enough to ignore the diagnosis.
When I went back this last week, there had been a paperwork mix-up and the office forgot I was coming. They tried to tell me that my appt. was a different day, until I showed them the appt. card they had printed for me. Then, the dr. told me they had lost my file for a while and he had to remember who I was for the first few minutes of the appt. I was having the symptoms of mania at that time, and I was pretty irritable. I had 5 appts that day for work (!!), and a few hours of driving time all over town. I think my doctor could really see the irritability at that moment. He suggested that I up the dose on the Lamictal I was taking even though I only had been taking the 100mg dose for 3 days. I didn't really think that was enough time to determine that the 100mg wasn't enough, but my thoughts were too scattered to put this into words. I really wanted him to give me something to calm down.
That sounds like drug-seeking behavior, and I guess technically it is if I really wanted him to give me a Xanax or Loritab or Klonopin or whatever. But I don't want to get high. I like it when I am myself, content or happy or neutral and getting things done. The idea of being a Xanax-ed out couch blob or otherwise mentally vacating is not appealing. However, when I feel like I'm losing control of my mind, my body, and all I want to do is explode, the idea of taking the edge off of that is really appealing. I want to calm down before I do something really drastic and make mistakes--(oh wait, I've already done that.)
I have smoked about 10 cigarettes in my life and didn't enjoy or get a high off of any of them. After a few rare but severe bad experiences with alcohol (think extreme hangovers), I have really cut back on drinking more than 1-2 drinks at once. I've stuck to I'll stick to a glass of wine, a beer, or a single cocktail (vodka-sodas are low cal). I've never, ever taken a pill not prescribed to me. What I really want is to minimize the damage of a manic/agitated/whatever state.
Again, I guess I wasn't as clear on this, and I really didn't want to get blacklisted as some kind of druggie, so I didn't directly ask him for a calming/downer type of thing. I really wish I had, because that was the night that me and my bf got into it and ended up separating or something (I don't really know our status.) Enough about that.
So now I am going to go forward getting this 150mg prescription. Partly because Lamictal is supposed to be a miracle drug with no side affects (if you're not allergic) and partly because most of the personal experiences I've read online (I've read 100s of form posts, articles, etc. from a variety of sources ranging in reliability) say the most common dose is between 200-400. So going up to 150mg for real results doesn't seem outlandish. Also, the Dr. made me a four-week follow up appt instead of 6-week or 8-week or whatever. That makes me think he wants to do extra checking in.
I have to admit, I did call a friend last night and ask if they had any pharmaceuticals. I was really desperate after what I experienced on Thursday night and Friday night (really un-fun manic episodes.) We talked about it, and I decided it wasn't worth the trouble or risk and just tried to relax instead.
Unfortunately, this is all happening at the worst time ever, a huge work deadline. And I haven't even begun on the project for the next deadline in 2 weeks after this. I did apply for another job yesterday. It's a long shot, and I don't know if it's the best idea, but I did it just to get myself going on the job search. I can't maintain this kind of stress level if I want to stop ruining my life.
" Hi there, how are you feeling?"
"I'm not feeling any better...my thoughts are pretty nega--"
"Well, let's just do 200mg instead of 100mg then. That should help those thoughts go away."
"But I think if I just could talk abou-"
"Here's your prescription, see you next time."
When I went to my new psychiatrist about 5 weeks ago, we spent much more time talking about the issues and I felt good about it overall. I told him my symptoms, etc. without telling him that my therapist had decided I was bipolar II. When he heard that the whole Lexapro experience, he immediately decided that I was bipolar II because the antidepresant didn't help me. I honestly have a hard time remembering 4 years ago and given the circumstances, I don't know if anything would have made me feel better at that time. It just doesn't seem like something to base a diagnosis on. But with the other symptoms I had, I figured that my annoyance with the Lexapro situation wasn't enough to ignore the diagnosis.
When I went back this last week, there had been a paperwork mix-up and the office forgot I was coming. They tried to tell me that my appt. was a different day, until I showed them the appt. card they had printed for me. Then, the dr. told me they had lost my file for a while and he had to remember who I was for the first few minutes of the appt. I was having the symptoms of mania at that time, and I was pretty irritable. I had 5 appts that day for work (!!), and a few hours of driving time all over town. I think my doctor could really see the irritability at that moment. He suggested that I up the dose on the Lamictal I was taking even though I only had been taking the 100mg dose for 3 days. I didn't really think that was enough time to determine that the 100mg wasn't enough, but my thoughts were too scattered to put this into words. I really wanted him to give me something to calm down.
That sounds like drug-seeking behavior, and I guess technically it is if I really wanted him to give me a Xanax or Loritab or Klonopin or whatever. But I don't want to get high. I like it when I am myself, content or happy or neutral and getting things done. The idea of being a Xanax-ed out couch blob or otherwise mentally vacating is not appealing. However, when I feel like I'm losing control of my mind, my body, and all I want to do is explode, the idea of taking the edge off of that is really appealing. I want to calm down before I do something really drastic and make mistakes--(oh wait, I've already done that.)
I have smoked about 10 cigarettes in my life and didn't enjoy or get a high off of any of them. After a few rare but severe bad experiences with alcohol (think extreme hangovers), I have really cut back on drinking more than 1-2 drinks at once. I've stuck to I'll stick to a glass of wine, a beer, or a single cocktail (vodka-sodas are low cal). I've never, ever taken a pill not prescribed to me. What I really want is to minimize the damage of a manic/agitated/whatever state.
Again, I guess I wasn't as clear on this, and I really didn't want to get blacklisted as some kind of druggie, so I didn't directly ask him for a calming/downer type of thing. I really wish I had, because that was the night that me and my bf got into it and ended up separating or something (I don't really know our status.) Enough about that.
So now I am going to go forward getting this 150mg prescription. Partly because Lamictal is supposed to be a miracle drug with no side affects (if you're not allergic) and partly because most of the personal experiences I've read online (I've read 100s of form posts, articles, etc. from a variety of sources ranging in reliability) say the most common dose is between 200-400. So going up to 150mg for real results doesn't seem outlandish. Also, the Dr. made me a four-week follow up appt instead of 6-week or 8-week or whatever. That makes me think he wants to do extra checking in.
I have to admit, I did call a friend last night and ask if they had any pharmaceuticals. I was really desperate after what I experienced on Thursday night and Friday night (really un-fun manic episodes.) We talked about it, and I decided it wasn't worth the trouble or risk and just tried to relax instead.
Unfortunately, this is all happening at the worst time ever, a huge work deadline. And I haven't even begun on the project for the next deadline in 2 weeks after this. I did apply for another job yesterday. It's a long shot, and I don't know if it's the best idea, but I did it just to get myself going on the job search. I can't maintain this kind of stress level if I want to stop ruining my life.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
More about the bf - I guess this is my journal now?
So after that last post, you see what kinds of behavior I exhibit when I'm on a rampage. I'm still not entirely comfortable with saying I'm in a manic state. I don't never if it's healthier or better to externalize the behavior - blame it on the disease, basically -- or whether it's better to just say 'I was a bitch, and I can never do that again." I still haven't decided if I actually accept my bipolar II diagnosis.
Thursday night wasn't nearly as bad as the night I described in one way. It was very different. We got into a discussion about marriage or something. His feelings seem to be that he doesn't want to do it for another 6 years (before we turn 30.) He's expressed concern that he won't be able to "travel the world" as he wants to because he's with me. I'm not exactly clear on this, because I've made it entirely clear to him that I want him to do exactly as he wishes as far as traveling or moving. I think that we could handle a long-distance relationship, and I'm willing to do that as long as there's a plan of action for when we will be getting together again.
He also has reservations about me, I think mostly because of my mental health issues. I am kind of feeling now like the bipolar II diagnosis has scared him. He's been to therapy with me twice, has been supportive of the recent steps I've taken to get treatment, but this week when I was acting like a horrid, mean, person, I think he had finally had enough. He doesn't think I'm ready to marry (I never said I was ready at the moment) and doesn't want to be with me if it's a constant cycle of happy-crazymean-depressed and then again. I can't blame him.
On the other hand, I have some reservations about him. He doesn't have a job and doesn't seem to have any intention of seeking a regular source of income any time soon. My constant work stress probably hasn't helped his view of full-time employment. I know that he's JUST finished his undergraduate, but his current plan is to spend the next 6-8 months studying and applying to the one grad school he wants to go to. I don't know if he understand how difficult it will be to get in, and I don't know if he understand that going 6-8 months without any kind of income at all is a little...irresponsible? annoying to me?
Also, he smokes about half a pack a day, sometimes more, and dips chewing tobacco 2-3 times a day. I've made it clear to him from the first few months of our relationship that I wouldn't marry him if he smoked. I thought that I was being fair and clear, but apparently that has just pissed him off from the beginning.
So add those issues to the predictable issues like "what and where will our jobs be? where will we live? when and why should we get married, if we even should?" and we had a very emotional discussion that left me feeling rejected, inadequate, and frankly, used. I am afraid of waking up one day, realizing that I've spent 10 years with someone who has no intention of marrying me, even though I'm not entirely sure why I want to get married or if I 100% do. J.'s argument is "why do we have to decide the rest of our lives right now..." and he's right. But I get psycho and it's also the fear of wasting time...this shouldn't be an issue. Time is not wasted if it's enjoyable. And I guess that's another issue. I'm not fun to be around when I'm wacky. I get mad when J. doesn't help as much as I want him to, and he gets annoyed with me when I'm being super Type A and want to plan and discuss everything in our lives 100 times.
When I woke up on Friday morning, I was still emotional and upset. I felt anger pulsing through me, a rage, I wasn't really sure why. I had exhausted my already exhausted self crying and crying the night before. I was super rude to him as I was getting ready for work...he was in bed, usually he says a few things to me. My answers were short or I just ignored him. I slammed a door a little bit. I felt used and abused. I couldn't focus at work. I instead composed a hugely long email, detailing how we need to "take a step back" and starting "acting like boyfriend and girlfriend instaed of acting like we're about to get married" and how we shouldn't depend on each other for different things. I guess I just felt like things were too seriously intertwined for all the rest of the doubts that we had. I didn't send the email, but it sure didn't help me calm down or focus on my work.
J. tried to send me a text about something random, as we like to do (I ignored it) and then called to check in at work, a sweet thing that he does. I was still on my angry high horse (about 12 hours straight of pure manic rage by now) and I don't know what I said to him, but it wasn't good communication. I think I sort of spat out a few thins in the email, without all the explanations and context. I guess he basically thought I was breaking up with him or going completely off the deep end, because he then sprang into action. I guess he took all his stuff from my house. He didn't want to talk to me, said he needed some space. I thought we might talk later.
I went bananas, running around my house, ripping things apart, shaking my fists. I felt out of control and I wasn't about to get any kind of release. I was able to restrain myself from calling him, and even deleted his number from my phone since he had asked for space (of course I have it memorized.) I just felt horrible. My bodily movements were jerky and I felt like I do when I'm just about to lose my mind. It's like I can feel around the edges of insanity, like I'm almost to the point where I'll starting drooling and yelling nonsensical things. I took a stack of magazines and ripped them apart, making a huge mess.
After a bit, I realized that I had promised my old roommate that I would meet her for dinner. SOMEHOW I pulled myself together, I cleaned the house I had just messed up, I put on clothes and makeup and a smile and although I didn't feel quite right, I went on out as if nothing was wrong. I don't know how I did it, and I still felt shaky. J. called me while I was out - he wanted to let me know that he dropped off my laundry. I later found the key in the mailbox. He didn't want to talk to me. "Not tonight," he said.
Saturday I didn't call, I was trying to give him space. I just did my thing and went to work (yes I know, of course I went to work on a Saturday.) Later he asked if he could come to my work to bring me some of my things - a book he had borrowed and a childhood coin bank I had left over there. I went out to his car, tried not to cry, tried to be mature. I didn't know what was happening, but it felt like a big deal. I tried to say that I wasn't trying to break up with him, tried to ask him what was going on, but he couldn't really form words, either. I of course ended up crying. He uninvited me to his graduation dinner, and I said I still wanted to go to the commencement the next day. He said that would be awkward, but I insisted that I wanted to go, and that I would go by myself instead of going with his family. I told him I had some grad. gifts, and he said he didn't want to take anything else from me. He motioned to his shirt, and his shorts 'all this is from you' he said. He said I wasn't ready to get married, that he would "probably always love me" and that he wanted to be my friend.
I'm realizing now as I relive this that he was basically breaking up with me. I'm not 100% sure what is going on. I didn't contact him at all that night, or Sunday. The only time I've talked to him is on Sunday after his graduation when he texted me "thank you for coming today." His dad just happened to be right outside the door as I was leaving and saw me. I was trying to avoid seeing his family - I don't know what he's telling them. I texted back my congratulations, and that's it.
I feel like it's just a waiting game for a while. I want to resolve things, but I realize that cooling off and space is probably good. Besides, I think that I am still pretty manic or whatever and rule #1 of being manic is not to have any discussions or make any major decisions. It feels like a little too late for that, though.
Thursday night wasn't nearly as bad as the night I described in one way. It was very different. We got into a discussion about marriage or something. His feelings seem to be that he doesn't want to do it for another 6 years (before we turn 30.) He's expressed concern that he won't be able to "travel the world" as he wants to because he's with me. I'm not exactly clear on this, because I've made it entirely clear to him that I want him to do exactly as he wishes as far as traveling or moving. I think that we could handle a long-distance relationship, and I'm willing to do that as long as there's a plan of action for when we will be getting together again.
He also has reservations about me, I think mostly because of my mental health issues. I am kind of feeling now like the bipolar II diagnosis has scared him. He's been to therapy with me twice, has been supportive of the recent steps I've taken to get treatment, but this week when I was acting like a horrid, mean, person, I think he had finally had enough. He doesn't think I'm ready to marry (I never said I was ready at the moment) and doesn't want to be with me if it's a constant cycle of happy-crazymean-depressed and then again. I can't blame him.
On the other hand, I have some reservations about him. He doesn't have a job and doesn't seem to have any intention of seeking a regular source of income any time soon. My constant work stress probably hasn't helped his view of full-time employment. I know that he's JUST finished his undergraduate, but his current plan is to spend the next 6-8 months studying and applying to the one grad school he wants to go to. I don't know if he understand how difficult it will be to get in, and I don't know if he understand that going 6-8 months without any kind of income at all is a little...irresponsible? annoying to me?
Also, he smokes about half a pack a day, sometimes more, and dips chewing tobacco 2-3 times a day. I've made it clear to him from the first few months of our relationship that I wouldn't marry him if he smoked. I thought that I was being fair and clear, but apparently that has just pissed him off from the beginning.
So add those issues to the predictable issues like "what and where will our jobs be? where will we live? when and why should we get married, if we even should?" and we had a very emotional discussion that left me feeling rejected, inadequate, and frankly, used. I am afraid of waking up one day, realizing that I've spent 10 years with someone who has no intention of marrying me, even though I'm not entirely sure why I want to get married or if I 100% do. J.'s argument is "why do we have to decide the rest of our lives right now..." and he's right. But I get psycho and it's also the fear of wasting time...this shouldn't be an issue. Time is not wasted if it's enjoyable. And I guess that's another issue. I'm not fun to be around when I'm wacky. I get mad when J. doesn't help as much as I want him to, and he gets annoyed with me when I'm being super Type A and want to plan and discuss everything in our lives 100 times.
When I woke up on Friday morning, I was still emotional and upset. I felt anger pulsing through me, a rage, I wasn't really sure why. I had exhausted my already exhausted self crying and crying the night before. I was super rude to him as I was getting ready for work...he was in bed, usually he says a few things to me. My answers were short or I just ignored him. I slammed a door a little bit. I felt used and abused. I couldn't focus at work. I instead composed a hugely long email, detailing how we need to "take a step back" and starting "acting like boyfriend and girlfriend instaed of acting like we're about to get married" and how we shouldn't depend on each other for different things. I guess I just felt like things were too seriously intertwined for all the rest of the doubts that we had. I didn't send the email, but it sure didn't help me calm down or focus on my work.
J. tried to send me a text about something random, as we like to do (I ignored it) and then called to check in at work, a sweet thing that he does. I was still on my angry high horse (about 12 hours straight of pure manic rage by now) and I don't know what I said to him, but it wasn't good communication. I think I sort of spat out a few thins in the email, without all the explanations and context. I guess he basically thought I was breaking up with him or going completely off the deep end, because he then sprang into action. I guess he took all his stuff from my house. He didn't want to talk to me, said he needed some space. I thought we might talk later.
I went bananas, running around my house, ripping things apart, shaking my fists. I felt out of control and I wasn't about to get any kind of release. I was able to restrain myself from calling him, and even deleted his number from my phone since he had asked for space (of course I have it memorized.) I just felt horrible. My bodily movements were jerky and I felt like I do when I'm just about to lose my mind. It's like I can feel around the edges of insanity, like I'm almost to the point where I'll starting drooling and yelling nonsensical things. I took a stack of magazines and ripped them apart, making a huge mess.
After a bit, I realized that I had promised my old roommate that I would meet her for dinner. SOMEHOW I pulled myself together, I cleaned the house I had just messed up, I put on clothes and makeup and a smile and although I didn't feel quite right, I went on out as if nothing was wrong. I don't know how I did it, and I still felt shaky. J. called me while I was out - he wanted to let me know that he dropped off my laundry. I later found the key in the mailbox. He didn't want to talk to me. "Not tonight," he said.
Saturday I didn't call, I was trying to give him space. I just did my thing and went to work (yes I know, of course I went to work on a Saturday.) Later he asked if he could come to my work to bring me some of my things - a book he had borrowed and a childhood coin bank I had left over there. I went out to his car, tried not to cry, tried to be mature. I didn't know what was happening, but it felt like a big deal. I tried to say that I wasn't trying to break up with him, tried to ask him what was going on, but he couldn't really form words, either. I of course ended up crying. He uninvited me to his graduation dinner, and I said I still wanted to go to the commencement the next day. He said that would be awkward, but I insisted that I wanted to go, and that I would go by myself instead of going with his family. I told him I had some grad. gifts, and he said he didn't want to take anything else from me. He motioned to his shirt, and his shorts 'all this is from you' he said. He said I wasn't ready to get married, that he would "probably always love me" and that he wanted to be my friend.
I'm realizing now as I relive this that he was basically breaking up with me. I'm not 100% sure what is going on. I didn't contact him at all that night, or Sunday. The only time I've talked to him is on Sunday after his graduation when he texted me "thank you for coming today." His dad just happened to be right outside the door as I was leaving and saw me. I was trying to avoid seeing his family - I don't know what he's telling them. I texted back my congratulations, and that's it.
I feel like it's just a waiting game for a while. I want to resolve things, but I realize that cooling off and space is probably good. Besides, I think that I am still pretty manic or whatever and rule #1 of being manic is not to have any discussions or make any major decisions. It feels like a little too late for that, though.
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