Category Archives: Life

I Don’t Speak Well

I don’t speak well…

I know the words I want to tell you. 

Words in my head that trip over my tongue.

I don’t speak well.

I know you need words. 

Words of comfort and peace.

Words that will make you feel at ease.

They are there in my heart and mind.

But the path to my mouth is polluted. 

My mind, it goes in a million different directions at one time.

The words get lost. 

I don’t speak well.

I write.

I’m a writer.

I’ve always been better at writing than speaking.

And I know that doesn’t help you right now.

Because you need to hear the right words from me. 

Words of peace and love and safety from my tongue.

But they are gone, they are lost.

Just to write this takes a while.

My mind drifts.

I don’t speak well.

I wish I could be the voice of reason for you.

I wish I could be the calm in your storm.

But I don’t speak well. 

And as I’m writing this, I know you need me to say words.

But I don’t speak well.

Pacing


I’ve started pacing again…

Around the house, around the yard, at work… On my days off it’s a lot worse. 

It’s like I can’t relax, I can’t rest. The longer I sit still, the more upset I get. I have to move. I have to do something. 

At work, it’s not so bad. There’s plenty to do, so I just stay busy. But when there’s a lull in how busy it should be, I’m moving. Because I can finally sit, for a minute. But the minute ticks by and I have to move. 

This weekend should have been fun and relaxing. We went to visit a friend. And I was anxious the whole way up there. When we got there I started pacing.  Sitting on the edge of the seat, fidgeting with my hands, pacing again. I finally took an Ativan, it helped a little. I’m having to take them a lot more. 

The same thing happened today. More pacing. Another pill, this time I went and took a nap because I just couldn’t handle it. 

I go to see the doctor Thursday. So I plan on telling her that I’m more anxious. That I’m having to take my emergency pills almost every day. That my sleeping patterns are still off and that I need some kind of help. Something needs to change. I can’t go around feeling like this all the time. 

In Sickness and Health

These are words spoken in wedding vows and they mean so much to me. 

When we got married, I figured that I would be the one with the bad days. Having Bipolar Disorder gives you some ups and downs in life, days where getting out of bed is a feat in itself. But I found someone who has grounded me in safety and security. And when I have a bad day, it’s not as bad as it used to be. 

Now, I take care of him. And some times, it’s not easy to do. Not because I don’t want to do it, I would do anything for him. I would change the world for him if I could. But some times, it’s difficult to watch.

I remember a test that we had to do, to see how his muscles responded to stimuli. No one prepared me, when we took vows, that in sickness and health meant watching a doctor basically torture your husband for a test. A test that he needed, but you could tell that it was painful. 

“In sickness and health”, we really think of the healthy times. I see families together being happy, you don’t want to think about what happens when someone gets sick. And some times people think that sickness means just a simple cold or something. But a medical mystery? That’s something entirely different. 

It’s been an adventure. With the good days and and the bad days, I can tell you that we have taken our vows seriously. We take care of each other. We take turns some times, and some days we take care of each other at the same time. 

They don’t tell you, when you take those vows that you’re going to worry. Or that you’re going to want to know more, that you’re going to try to research everything you can to try and figure this out. They don’t tell you that you’re going to call every doctor several times a week just to get an appointment, or a certain medication refilled, or an MRI scheduled. They don’t tell you all of this.

But they can’t tell you that it makes you stronger. That it makes your marriage better. Love and marriage, sickness and health, it takes work. You have to want to work on it – I’ve seen illness tear people apart. But, for us, I feel like this adventure has made us stronger and made us love each other better. 

I know in my heart that I love my husband more and more every day. I want to be with him and take care of him, no matter where this takes us. I want to grow our family together. This has brought us closer than I ever thought possible.

To my husband, I am so proud of you for being you. For waking up each day and fighting your battle. For loving me like you do. You are an amazing man with such strength, we can only keep going from here. Together, we will make it through this. You give me courage and strength when I need it. I will always be here for you. I’m proud of all of your accomplishments. I love you to the moon and back, Siempre por Siempre.

Closed Door

So, from the past two posts, you can tell that I tried opening the door to a relationship with my legal mother. As expected, it didn’t go well. 

For the first couple of weeks, it was great. We tried to catch up. But, like I said in my last post, it was awkward. Things with her felt forced. Well, I guess now I don’t have to worry about it.

I tried to take a break from it, to see what I wanted to do. I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of the relationship. Did I really want to drag myself down the rabbit hole again? Trying to please this woman is damn near impossible, or at least it was when I was growing up. It felt like nothing I did ever made her happy, you know? Straight a’s in school weren’t good enough, working full time in high school wasn’t good enough, doing extra cirriculars wasn’t good enough, the kitchen wasn’t cleaned good enough. It just felt like nothing I ever did was enough for her. And it’s sad really. I don’t think that I was a bad kid. I didn’t do the things that you see on the movies, where kids sneek out and go to parties, drink and do drugs, get pregnant. I was on the honor roll, National Honors Society, student counsil at one point. I mean, I did what I was supposed to do. 

So, when things went crazy, that’s when I started to veer off the path. When Donna tried to kill herself back in 2010 and had to be hospitalized, I started drinking. I started smoking cigarettes. And while she was there, that’s when I found out that she had legally adopted me. I had visited with her every day the first week she was there. I missed a week of school so I could be there. I missed all my classes (I was in college at that point) for a week, just so I could be with her, supporting her. But then, they moved her to the state hospital, and that’s a four hour drive from my dorm. And I had to get back to class. I didn’t visit, but I called every day, until they switched units and no one told me how to get ahold of her. I did go to see her one time, it was after I found out about the adoption. I remember her being mad that I found out, she was screaming. She told me to get out. 

No matter how many times I keep trying to tell her that things never had to change, she’s the one who keeps changing them. Maybe because she doesn’t like that I’m stronger willed than she anticipated. I don’t bow to anyone anymore. Certainly not her. When she got home from the hospital, she slammed the door in my face and threatened to call the cops on me. I’ve tried reaching out to her since then, but we always come back to this issue here. The adoption and the fact that I found out. 

The last time I reached out to her, we talked for a few days and it blew up in my face. I crumpled a little. This time, I’m not crumpling. I expected it. I anticipated the fall out, I knew it was coming before it happened. Now, well now I’m just mad. 

I’m mad that I put myself out there again. I knew that nothing was going to come of this, yet I got my hopes up that things would be different this time around. That enough time had passed and she had changed. But she’s really just the same. 

This time, she said that I have no respect for her. And to be quite honest. I don’t. I can’t respect someone who walked out on me like she did. I was trying to have a relationship with her, trying to love her again. I was willing to let go of everything and start over for us. But that’s not going to happen.

She lives in a world that she has created. She believes every lie she has ever told. She believes that I was told things about her, instead of what I have experienced with her. I guess she forgot that I grew up with her. She wants to control who I have in my life, and I’m not about to have that happen again. 

Things just got out of hand again. Did I say some mean things, yes. But it was the truth. And some times the truth can hurt. I know when I’ve been told the truth about me, my actions, some of those truths hurt. 

I just wanted to try to have a relationship. I opened a door so that, in the event that something bad happens to her, I would have the closure I needed. But it blew up in my face. And she has the audacity to say that she feels sorry for me! 

I’m not trying to get any sympathy or anything, just simply venting at this point. I told her at the beginning, this was the last time I would try to have a relationship with her. Because there’s no point. If she closes the door again, I’m not wasting anymore of my time. And she closed the door. She runs away from problems, like I used to do. 

In all honesty, I hope that she gets help, because she needs therapy. I had hoped that we could get a relationship off the ground, a genuine relationship. But I’m not going to be told what I can and can’t do, who I can and can’t love. I’m an adult, not some small child that you can bully into doing what you want with guilt (her favorite trick). 

I wish it wasn’t going to be this way. But I feel like, I tried, it failed. My message was delievered. Whether she accepts that message is up to her.

Sorry, readers for the long bitchy post.