This “I’ll work on me, you work on you babe” while taking a break instead of just breaking up seems beneficial to our relationship. We are actually talking to each other now and, in some ways, we are in a better place then we had been there for awhile. It is nice to remember what we like about each other, what attracted us to each other in the first place, and how much we actually do love each other.
I’ve been sharing my little epiphanies… from “I am here, I’m still me” to the “I don’t really know you” with a list of stupid questions like, “Do you own a cast iron skillet?” Yeah, there are a LOT of little things that I do not know about this man.
He got the point: I need him to be a little more open and honest with me and he needs me to stop hiding aspects of myself that, for reasons real or imagined, I felt like he might not be able to handle it.
Where do we go from here? Who knows? Right now, it is just one day at a time.
LATER: I was thinking about how to tell the new student doc assigned to me at the family clinic that when I ask for an antidepressant, I want a low dose SSRI, preferably Lexapro, NOT 300mg of Wellbutrin (way too much, that’s enough to send me over the edge so I’m NOT taking it) and suddenly, I got hit with Epiphany #5.
How do I tell him? He thinks I lost my me… oh my gosh!
That “strong vibrant woman” he met and fell in love with ye 3 to 4 years ago (I didn’t jot notes on a calendar or keep a diary) was riding a prolonged cusp on the edge of mania, self-medicating with 100 proof peppermint schnapps straight up (hey, alcohol is a depressant) plus Jacks & Coke and a few other things when we first got together.
I ended up back in therapy, bailed out and eventually crashed, series of harsh things took me down into depression… that’s easier to hide. I have a lot more experience going down. I blogged about some of it, from Wired in August 2015 on up past the new year, mixed in with other stuff.
So, basically, he has seen me up and seen me down, both ends of my mental health spectrum, but might not have realized it… stable is the middle ground. So he thinks I lost part of my me… that my stable me is missing something?
Epiphany #5 just opened a frikkin can of mental worms.
Stable me is NOT so vibrant. Stable me doesn’t drink, mainly because I know alcohol is a depressant and I tend to cycle down a lot more than I cycle up. Stable me is a responsible human being. Stable me doesn’t make as much art, doesn’t read poetry on street corners, doesn’t do wacky things.
Humm… I’m going to have to think about this for awhile before I venture to bring it up in conversation.
Thanks for reading!
B.D. Fiant is an ultra ego created while working under duress in 2006. It was not a good year. The last six months were hell. My stress level was so jacked that I felt like I was shaking uncontrollably when sliding my card to enter the door, but a glance at my steady hands told me that I was only shaking on the inside.
The delusional ropes in poem Ropes were in that place.
The art attributed to B.D. Fiant are computer generated modifications of my own photographs and paintings. They speak of a world spinning out of control, of being caught in the bull, with life as I knew it going down the drain, and my utter inability to stop it. I pulled the meme and photos off my old laptop. There are more, but I’m only sharing my favorites.
It has taken years to recover. In some ways, I am permanently scathed, to use an Old English word. I’ve been heat treated, hardened… the dear sweet little girl raised to be a gentle lady has a core of defiance, an inability to put up with much of anything. I am B.D. Fiant.
Thanks for reading!