The Stress.

I have been SUPER good at dealing with stress the last couple of months. When my [ex]fiance kicked me out of the house unexpectedly while I was in the hospital at the beginning of May, I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with things. I didn't know if I'd remain calm, cry it out, or completely lose control of my mental stability all together. I surprised myself by doing relatively well under the circumstances of being told I could not come back to the home I'd known for 2 years and 8 months, to the EXACT day. When someone that is supposed to love you for better or for worse tells you that they "cannot handle your bipolar disorder" and had been trying to figure out a way to get you out of the house, and seized the perfect opportunity of you going into the hospital to do so because you'd "be safe there" (until when?), it kind of cracks you a little on the inside. Especially when you are struggling to heal physically from some literal heart damage. What part of kicking someone out of their home while they are in the hospital is okay, regardless of the reason? He said he has to concentrate on making himself healthier, which I totally agree with. Even though he would promptly deny it, he is a recovering alcoholic. Or was recovering, anyway. He started drinking again, and I will readily admit that I feel partially responsible since I honestly thought it had been long enough to where a beer would be okay. I will never make that very incorrect assumption for ANYONE ever again. EVER. What starts out as 1 beer, quickly becomes 2. Then it becomes 4. Then it becomes daily. Then it becomes frequent 6 packs. Then it becomes someone screaming in your face for just under an hour, telling you how absolutely disgusting you are and reminding you of every single mistake you have EVER made, to you having to clean up their vomit the next morning because you know it won't get cleaned up otherwise. Couple that with anger management issues, and you have quite the cluster-crap. That isn't even the clencher, though. The real slap is the fact that not only does he deny that alcohol and anger are his problems, but instead tells everyone, including me, that I was his problem. Subsequently, "now that you are gone, I have no problems."

I have a few questions.

If I was the problem, why did his breath reek of alcohol a couple of weeks ago when a mutual friend stopped by there?  If I was the problem, why does one of my friends, who eventually became his acquaintance, report that he has engaged in certain activities that he would say he has stopped?  If I was the problem, why was there a newly punched hole in a door that was not there before I was kicked out?

The answer is simple: I wasn't, nor am I, the problem.

So many things have become clear.  So many blinders removed.  Yet, I'm saddened by it, because I realize all the lies.

Real eyes realize real lies.

All the blaming, I almost took it. But it isn't my fault. Thank God I can see that now.  My bipolar disorder was getting worse, yes. That part is totally and completely true; but I can see WHY it was getting worse, and it was all circumstantial. A violent merry-go-round. Being kept unhealthy by an unhealthy person who wouldn't let me in. Who wouldn't get worse in that situation? Gawd.. I think about it, and honestly I'm amazed I didn't succeed in killing myself. That is really, really sad. Sadder still... I love him.  He can blame me if he wants, but I won't claim it. His malfunctions are his own and he needs to deal with his own demons. He will understand one day that what he did was wrong, no matter why he thought he needed to do it. Ironically, as I've grown, become more independent, and have taken steps to build my life, he tries to take credit for it, saying that his kicking me out is what catapulted me into finally taking responsibility for myself. Truth is, I've always been responsible for myself. I just lost my way when I started letting him dictate how I was going to feel and live. I'm taking my life back now, thank you.

Silly me. I thought I could help on the farm, without my own outside source of income, help with his business, and we could grow together. Not so, young, naive grasshopper. You are a fool. You can't help someone who won't let you past the front gate. Every time I thought I broke down an emotional barrier, he would just put another one up. I never stood a chance, and the whole time I was trying, I was really drowning. Being suffocated by the codependency of someone else, why dealing with the codependency inside myself. You cannot help someone who is insistent that they have no problems but you.

Thank you for setting me free, even though you did it in a horribly, horribly wrong way. Thank you for shattering the facade you put up that I would be "safe forever."  Thank you for reminding me that I can never get too comfortable in one place for too long and will always have to worry that one day I could be homeless again, because nothing lasts forever. Thank you for proving that I should have trusted my instincts in the very beginning and kept my belongings separate from yours so I wouldn't have to go through everything later and figure out what was mine. I don't have to worry about what you are doing anymore or try and figure out ways I can help you. I don't have to worry anymore about whether you are going to keep your promises and we'll start getting healthy again tonight.  I don't have to worry anymore about all the stupid little lies that you say you HAD to tell. YOU NEVER HAVE TO LIE, THAT'S A LIE IN ITSELF. And if you really believe that.... I feel so sorry for you.

I'm feeling it now. The weight. The stress. The impending fear, no matter how irrational it is right now. Chalk it up to past experiences, for I know that is where it comes from. I'm thankful for my little twin mattress on the floor in the front hallway of my best friend's house, nestled right by the front door. I'm thankful that I'm out of the elements and have food to eat, water to drink. I'm thankful that within a couple of weeks I found a good job, that while it started off very slowly, has the potential of being a nice life-sustaining income, that may only allow me to live paycheck to paycheck, will still allow me to live, once I'm on my own.

On my own. It's getting to that point that is hard. It's getting to that point that is really bringing on the stress. It seems like the money goes out just as fast as it comes in, and I wonder how I'm supposed to ever save anything.  Whether it's paying my best friend back for the computer she so graciously bought me so that I can work from home as a medical language specialist, using the college degree that I so diligently put myself through school for while I was raising my four children back in the early 2000s. Whether it's doctor appointments and prescriptions, both of which are necessary. Whether it's helping out here and there. Whether it's having to spend money on this or that, that was a basic necessity or something I needed, or a document that needed to be filed, or something I'd procrastinated on paying for. It's always something.

Now, I have a vacation coming up. Yes, vacation, in the midst of all this. Why in the hell would I be taking a vacation right now, you ask? Because when this vacation was planned and almost entirely paid for, I was not in this position. Plans were made, tickets were bought, decisions were practically forged into stone; and come hell or high water I am going on my damn vacation. Also, for the first time in too many years to even count, 2 of my children are coming on a trip with me, and if you had any idea what I've been through in the last decade, you'd understand why I absolutely, positively canNOT give that up! WILL NOT GIVE THAT UP! We are leaving Florida on August 4th, traveling to New England, and are not coming back until August 13th; and that's that!  Judge all you like, it won't change anything.

I will exhaust myself to near death between now and then, sitting here, transcribing, getting paid by production, just so I can make sure they have the best vacation I can give them. I will sacrifice everything I have to have this opportunity with my children that may never come back around, that I have been DYING for, for years now. I will sleep all the way to Maine in the passenger seat of a car if that is the only sleep I will get, if it means we will be a happy family spending extraordinary moments together on the side of a beautiful mountain. Just call us the Von Trapp family!

....and if when we return, I have nothing, I will start over.... again. I pray diligently every day that my time will not run out, physically or otherwise. I have learned through many, many things in my life, that nothing is ever guaranteed. 

So, stressed I am, and stressed I will be. I keep hoping that the right people will hear my story or see my family's need, make no assumptions or form uneducated opinions, and decide to help in some small way, to get me back on my feet... to get us back together. Just give me a freaking chance to start my entire life over, as I've been given no other choice.  To see that I'm doing the best I can with what I have.  To know that I don't pity myself, I'm just tired.

To relieve just a small ounce of stress... help me begin, I'll take it from there.

I hate asking for help, yet I'm forcing myself to do it anyway. CLICK HERE for more information.