Remember When?

Lately I find myself feeling very nostalgic.  I think it's mostly related to this time of year, because it was right around 4 years ago that I went on my first date with my ex.  

I remember him asking me to hang out via Facebook, and I remember almost ignoring the message and pretending I'd never seen it, and then saying yes at the last minute because I knew he needed to talk to someone and I felt bad blowing him off.  I remember him calling for directions to my apartment, because I live on the weirdest street in Flagstaff (it's a boulevard that is literally a block long) and no one can find it unless they've been there before.  I remember just driving all over town and listening to him talk about whatever.  I remember finally stopping at Lake Mary, and walking down to the water and having to grab his hand a few times to keep from falling, and him holding on longer than was necessary every time.  I remember him asking to hold me and sitting on a rock at the side of the lake with his arms around me.  I remember going to WalMart to buy an inflatable raft and leaving disappointed because they didn't have any.  I remember him taking the longest route possible to take me home, and him saying it was just because of the road work on the highway, and I remember having a feeling that he really just didn't want to drop me off.  I remember coming home and telling Jerbs about him and her making a comment that when I talked about him, I smiled like she hadn't seen me smile in a long time.

And all that wasn't even our first date.  Our first date was the next night, when he showed up at my apartment with a stuffed duck, a get well card, and a raft.

I really do miss him.  And it seems to get worse instead of better--I feel like I miss him more now than I ever have, when we're 2 years out from the break up and I'm fairly settled into this life without him.  It's something I just can't seem to get over, regardless of what I do.  I think I talk a big game about being over him, about not caring, and it's bullshit.  I am happy with my life, yes, and I'm doing well on my own, but I'm not over him.  I also think I put a lot of pressure on myself to be over it, telling myself that it's stupid to hang on and that I'm an idiot for still being in love with him and that after 2 years, I should have moved on.

I'm done with that.  I'm done beating myself up for the way I feel about him.  Honestly, it was a serious, real relationship, we were very committed to each other, and I'm not ashamed of the fact that those feelings are still there.  I'm allowed to feel the way I feel.  Obviously I'm not going to let it rule my life or anything like that, but still.

I want to be with him.  I know that, at this point, the odds of anything happening, of him feeling the same way, of him not having found someone else, are utterly astronomical, but I'm choosing to remain hopeful.  Because I still feel like he's who I'm supposed to end up with.  There's just something about him, about the way we were together, that makes me believe that.  I'm sure I sound like a total idiot to anyone reading this, but whatever.  I'm OK with that.

2 Years of Evolution

So I was actually going to write this post back at the end of the May (around the 2 year break up anniversary), but then . . . I just got busy and it got pushed to the back burner and I ended up not getting around to it then.

But the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that today—the first of July—is actually a more appropriate anniversary for this journey I've been on. Because, even though it was on May 25^th that Ex-Fiance told me he didn't think we should get married, that relationship didn't truly end—and I didn't truly start to focus on myself and getting better—until I moved back up to Flagstaff. And that happened two years ago today.

Honestly, it's hard to even know where to begin when I talk about this. I've changed so drastically since that day two years ago that I barely know how to put it into words. I've talked about it a lot on here, in bits and pieces, but summing it all up is a challenge.

The day that Ex-Fiance drove me to Flagstaff felt like the worst of my life. To say I was miserable would be a pretty major understatement. I remember the anxiety and numbness coming in waves: my stomach knotting up, palms sweating, heart racing, and then a sudden detachment, a sense of almost nothingness, like I was outside of my body and all around not a part of what was going on. I didn't want to be in Flagstaff; I kept thinking that there was no way I was ever going to get better in the place where my life had completely fallen apart. I kept thinking about my nephew and and saying goodbye to him and how awful that had been, and how bitter I was at being forced out of my hometown and away from my family. At the time I had a crappy job and really didn't know how I was going to survive financially. I knew I needed a full time job, but I also knew that I wasn't mentally well enough to hold down a full time job . . . and I wasn't going to be able to afford treatment without a full time job. (How's that for a vicious cycle?). I didn't have a car and I was dreading having to depend on the bus system. And on top of that I had just gotten dumped; I was with the man I loved, the man I had fully intended to spend the rest of my life with, the man I was supposed to have married just the day before, and I knew that at the end of the day he was going to leave. I remember that he stuck around for a few hours, and that I felt like I was going to throw up when he finally said he needed to get going. He kissed me and told me he loved me before he left; I stood on my porch and watched him drive away and wished that I was dead.

On that day my life just didn't make sense. I looked at it from all the angles I could, and it sucked from every single one. I don't think I'd ever felt more defeated than I did that day. My future—to me, at least—looked bleak. Very, very bleak.

Today, two years later, I am happier than I've ever been. And it was just a normal, busy day; I got up, went to work (at both jobs), and came home to Jerbs and my dogs. That's probably the best part about being mentally healthy—that the normal, uneventful, everyday kind of days are happy ones. When I was sick I hated being alive, hated having to live through every day, but now I'm truly engaged in my life and myself. It's such a good feeling.

I've come so far in two years. I got an amazing full time job, and I've been excelling at it for almost 18 months now. I feel like a lot of my personal growth has come from my job at MHC, for a lot of reasons. The financial stability has been great, and has led to a lot less anxiety about money. I've also been able to start getting my credit on track. Aside from that, I feel like I've become a lot more confident about myself since I started at MHC. I've taken on more responsibility there than I ever imagined I would; some of the things that have been added to my work load are things that, when I first started, I didn't think I could do or would want to do. But now, I'm pretty sure I could do anything that was asked of me at work; I'm very confident in my abilities. And the confidence that's come from everything I do at MHC is what let me to be sure I could handle a second job. And let me tell you that having two jobs makes me feel absolutely amazing.

It's also been a great experience to work with people who don't know me as being sick. My co-workers like me, and just think of me as me. And it's been nice to be looked at like a normal person, to have been able to make friends and just . . . I don't know, show people who I really am. When you think about it, my MHC co-workers are the first group of people who have ever met me without knowing anything about my mental health history. And I'm definitely not saying that I feel like other people in my life have been judgmental; I'm just saying that it's kind of nice to have people in my life who never saw me like that. They make me feel normal.

I've stopped overreacting to things. I feel like in the past, things that were pretty small and insignificant would make me freak out. Like changes in schedules or the store being out of something I needed or whatever. Those little things would just make me go ballistic and ruin my whole day. Now, those things just don't bother me. And even bigger things that happen don't bother me as much. Like the flat tire on my way to work last month. Old me would have lost my shit. I'd probably have cried and screamed and kicked my car. I wouldn't have had the money to pay for a tow or new tire and I'd have made Jerbs wake up and meet me so she could take care of it. I probably would have been so upset that I'd have called in to work because I wouldn't have been able to focus after freaking out. And then I'd have come home and thrown myself a huge pity party and thought about all the reasons my life sucked. But instead, I rolled my eyes, grumbled a little bit (because no one WANTS to get a flat tire on their way to work on a Monday morning), and took care of it. I joked with the tow truck driver, passed the time at the tire shop playing Angry Birds on my phone, and then went to work. And that was just that. It didn't even remotely ruin my day.

I've stopped focusing on other people's lives and letting them effect me. Before I dreaded reading Facebook statuses because every little thing just . . . I don't know, made me get all over analytical about my own life. Any time a friend would get engaged or get married or move or get a job or really succeed in any way, I'd have an anxiety attack about the fact that I wasn't succeeding. I felt like a failure and everyone else's successes just reinforced that over and over again. It got to points where I wouldn't be able to focus on anything else and would get far too wrapped up in other people's lives for my own good. Now when I hear about good things happening to other people on Facebook, I'm just happy for them. I'm doing well enough in my own life, at this point, that I can come back to it easily. And even more than that, I want to come back to it. No matter how well anyone I know is doing, I like my own life better. I used to dread the future but now I'm excited about it. I see so much potential in myself and I know I'm going to accomplish great things.

I've stopped feeling like I need to define myself and become more OK with all of the parts of my personality co-existing. Before I felt like I had to pick who I was and whenever I did anything I wondered about how that fit into this over arching definition of me. For example, I remember once I got to thinking that I hadn't done a sewing project in a while. So I decided I wanted to sew something. And what should have been as easy as picking a pattern, grabbing some fabric, and setting up my machine turned into a massive anxiety attack because I just didn't know if I was the type of person who sewed. Does that make sense? My head made it a far bigger thing than it was, I guess. I just didn't know how to reconcile all the things I enjoyed into one personality. It seems so ridiculous now but it was a very serious issue at the time. And now I really get that I can be all the things I like and it's all just part of who I am. I sew, I write, I read, I hike, I work out . . . and it's all fine. I can do all those things without worrying about what they mean.

In general, my mind just feels more mine than it used to. I feel like I didn't used to have a lot of control over where my thoughts would go and what they would do; it was to the point that I couldn't really read books or watch TV or movies because I never knew how they'd effect my thought process. It sounds crazy but it's true. I was so afraid of the anxiety or depression or mania or whatever might come up that I just avoided anything I hadn't read or seen before. And it's silly but I missed those things, and having them back is a small victory but a victory nonetheless.

One thing that I haven't talked much about on here is that I've found my faith since I started this journey two years ago. I used to be a staunch atheist. And while I don't think there's anything wrong with that at all, my views in that area have definitely shifted. I don't know that I'd call myself a Christian, and I haven't read the Bible, and I don't go to church, but I do believe in God. I feel like my faith is something I want to experience on my own terms; I pursue a personal relationship with a higher power and that's that. I will say that I pray a lot, and that I feel very blessed. I see God at work every day in my own life. Like I said, I don't talk about it much, because it's very private.

Right now, I really do love my life. It's not perfect but it's wonderful, and I'm happy. I love where I live, I love what I do, and I love who I am. I am aware, every single day, of how fortunate I am to have gotten where I am from where I was. And I am thankful, every single day, for everything that got me there: for God, for my family, for Jerbs, for my ex, and for my own determination.

It hasn't been an easy journey, but it has been a beautiful one. As much pain and struggle as there's been, I don't think I'd change a thing.

3 Years Ago And Some Thoughts On Regret

Three years ago I was falling in love.  Being swept off my feet by a guy I never would have expected to end up with.  It was all so beautifully unexpected because neither one of us was looking for anything resembling a relationship when we met but things just clicked too much for either of us to stop.  I'll never forget the first few months of that relationship--staying up all night eating cold pizza and drinking root beer and talking about everything, flipping my TV back and forth between football and Dancing With the Stars on Monday nights, him playing our song and dancing at his apartment . . . it was wonderful.  I don't think I could have imagined a better start to anything; it was exactly what I wanted, even if I didn't know I wanted it, even if before I'd never really imagined myself spending the rest of my life with anyone.  I fell for him on our first date, lying in his arms in a raft under the stars in the middle of a lake.

But three years ago, I was sick, too.

The thing is, when I look back over the past year, over the time that he and I have been apart and the time I've spent getting better, I feel nearly nothing but pride.  Because I know--I know--that I have accomplished something tremendous.  I've talked about it time and time again, and I'm sure I'll talk about it more in the future, because it's true.  I know exactly how far I've come and exactly how much better I am.  I'm aware of it every single day.  And I am grateful for it every single day, even on less than awesome days.

I've worked hard to get to where I am now, and I like my life.  And I really want to be able to look back and say that if all I got out of that relationship was this, then that's fine.  That's enough.  That whatever happens after that is just icing on the cake.

But I just can't think like that.  Not now, anyway.

Because sometimes when I think about what I've accomplished, it just doesn't feel as good as it should.  I'll never, ever think that it was pointless, because it wasn't.  I wouldn't trade being mentally healthy for anything.  I needed to get better, regardless of what was going on in my life otherwise.  That wasn't a maybe, that was a for sure.

But at the end of the day, no amount of being better can change the fact that I spent a pretty big chunk of time treating an amazing person who loved me and was trying to help me like absolute dirt, and that guilt and regret still overwhelms me sometimes.  Sometimes I honestly can't believe how awful I was, and it makes me feel terrible.  So getting better wasn't pointless by any means, but there are moments when it seems like it was too little, too late, at least in this one respect.  Because, aside from my own health, the biggest and most significant thing the bipolar crap cost me was that relationship.

I feel like I've fixed almost everything else.  My relationship with my family is fine (aside from normal family stuff, of course), my relationship with Jerbs is good, and I've reconnected with people from college who I cut out of my life when I was sick.  My financial situation is improving and I am slowly but surely learning how to manage my money correctly.  I'm taking baby steps towards physical health (and I'm fine with that . . . better small steps than no steps, right?).

I would just love to be forgiven.  I would love for him to see that I really am better and that the issues I used to have were genuinely not me; I would love for him to know how absolutely horrible I feel for every terrible thing I did and said.  I would love--really, really love-- for him to know this me.  I would love a second chance and a clean slate.  And I'm better enough now that I could have a second chance and make it work.

But, I can't change the past.  I wish I could.  So for now, I am just going to hope that this person eventually finds his way to forgiveness and that he still has feelings for me.

These are the thoughts that I'm putting out into the universe tonight.  And hopefully whatever powers are out there--God or stars or vortices or whatever--see fit to return them to me in a good way.

Three Hundred and Sixty Five

I'm really not sure what to say about the one year anniversary but I feel like I need to say something.

It was a quiet, uneventful day.  My co-worker brought her kids over to visit Max (they're the ones I adopted him from) and they and Max had so much fun.  We took Max on a long walk together and when they left, he tried to leave with them; afterward he just sat at the front door and cried.  I took him to PetSmart and ran a few errands, then spent my evening watching LOST on Netflix and cleaning/organizing things around here.

So all in all, not a whole lot to talk about.  I expected it to feel . . . I don't know, more significant, but I didn't actually think about it much.  I mean, in the back of my mind, I was aware, all day, of the one year thing but overall, it wasn't too big a deal.  I thought about calling him more than once but every time I dialed his number I hung up before I even pressed talk.

It's hard to believe it's been a year.  Past that, I don't know what to say, really.  On the one hand this feels like a deadline: if it's been a whole year then it's definitely time to give up and stop hoping and just move on with my life regardless of how strongly I feel I'm not quite ready to do that.  On the other hand this has somehow made me feel more hopeful, in the sense of maybe now it's been long enough.  Maybe now enough time has passed that we can sit down and talk things out and go from there.

Sometimes I look at the past year and I feel like a failure.  I feel like there's so much more I could have accomplished if I'd worked a little bit harder or devoted myself a little bit more.  This is really pretty limited to my weight and physical health--sometimes I look in the mirror and I think to myself, Do you know how much you could have accomplished in a year if you'd just eaten better and worked out more?  And yeah, it disappoints me.

At the same time, though, I know that I have accomplished tons in the past year.  Reading blog entries and FB statuses from this time last year is proof that I'm really a completely different person now than I was then.

First and foremost, my mental health has improved by leaps and bounds.  I'm healthier now than I ever have been as an adult.  I feel like I'm in control of my own mind, I'm not as angry or as bitter, my sense of self gets stronger every day.  And even more than that I'v been able to commit to my treatment.  I take my medicine every day, I go to my doctor's appointments, I get my lab work done when I'm supposed to.  All great things that I definitely wasn't doing as much or as well before.  I don't have anxiety attacks anymore and I can sleep without sleeping pills.  I feel capable.  I do still have bad days but now when I do, they're normal bad days in the sense that whatever made them bad is a legitimate thing to be upset about.  Does that make sense?  Mostly I don't blow things out of proportion anymore, and one little aggravation doesn't ruin my day.

I'm also just . . . I don't know.  At this time last year I was mentally a mess, I didn't own a car, and I was making $8 an hour working in retail.  Now, I'm mentally healthy, was just able to buy a car on my own, and I'm making almost double what I used to be plus working actual full time hours.  It amazes me, because a year ago, I wouldn't have been able to have a full time job given my mental state.

So really, the best thing to say is that I've done well.  I've done as well as I could despite the fact that I got my heart broken and that I'm still heart broken right this very second.

At the end of the day, I still miss Ex-Fiance.  And I still love him.  And I would still really, really like the opportunity for a second chance.

I want him to know me like this.  I want him to see who I really am.  That girl that made him miserable . . . that wasn't me.  That's *not* me.  And I know that I'm at a point where I could be in a relationship and do it successfully, and I want it to be with him.  I still feel, very strongly, that I could be happy spending the rest of my life with him.

So that's that.  Either way--with Ex-Fiance or without Ex-Fiance--I feel like I have a bright future and I'm glad to be alive and healthy.

I remember, just after the break up happened, I was in the back room at the Kingman Hastings with one of my co-workers.  We were talking, and I said something about how scared I was that things might not work out with Ex-Fiance in the end.  And my co-worker said, "So if that happens, then worst case scenario is you survive and come out of this knowing you can handle anything."  I honestly think it was the most useful thing anyone said to me at that point and I've carried it with me and repeated it to myself and now it feels more true than ever.

I'm looking forward to summer.  To my life.  To all the things I have yet to accomplish.

Lately

Like I said I haven't been much in a blogging mood lately but here's a general update.

Good Stuff:
--The car.  I love it.  It's awesome.  I need to post the whole story of how I ended up with it and some pictures soon.  It still doesn't have a name, though.
--I got insurance through work.  It's not super great insurance and has a high deductible but still, it's something.  And the thing about a deductible is that you get charged the insurance's allowed rates instead of the cash pay rate, so paying in full for my psych appointment last week meant paying half of what I usually pay.  So I'm not complaining.  (Although my name was misspelled on my insurance card, jerks).
--Physically I've been feeling a little better lately.  Still some days of low energy but overall better than before.
--Work is still going well.  I have my first evaluation tomorrow (my 90 day a little late) and that's nerve wracking but it also potentially means a raise, which would be nice.  Hopefully it goes well.
--Nice weather lately.  Not too warm but not cold (although my office is always freezing at work) and a nice breeze most of the time, plus some days of cloud cover.
--Max is doing really well.  He's gained a whole pound since we got him and he's almost 100% potty trained.  He's also just super cute and he gets protective of Benji.  It's adorable.
--I wrote an organizational plan for the apartment.  The lease is up at the end of July and I suggested we move to a 2 bedroom but Jerbs nixed that idea.  I told her that if we couldn't move, I wanted to do some deep cleaning/organizing here just to make it a little less cluttered and stuff.  I'm looking forward to doing that, even if Jerbs isn't.

Not Good Stuff
--I haven't been to the gym in like 3 weeks now.  I don't know why but I just . . . don't feel like it.  I can't even explain it, really, but it's frustrating.  I know the trick is to suck it up and just GO but for some reason I can't seem to do that.  I need to get back on track.  I'm hoping that having a car will help with that (ie knowing I'm not going to have to walk two miles in the process of getting home might make the idea of spending a half hour on the treadmill at lunch a little more appealing).  Plus with a car I can go to the gym on weekends, something I couldn't do before.
--Saturday it will have been one year to the day since Corey told me he didn't want to marry me, and I won't lie, I'm kind of a mess about that, for so many reasons.  I'm terrified of it, really, because this is the anniversary I've been dreading.  I honestly never believed we'd get to this point, yet here we are, and it's going to come and go and there's nothing I can do about it.  And Jerbs is out of town this weekend (doing PCC with the Flicks) so I'm all by myself and that doesn't really help.
--My boss announced that she'll more than likely be leaving in July and that's depressing, because I really like her.
--In general I have just felt kind of blah lately.  Like . . . I don't know.  Just really unmotivated, gym and otherwise.  I think I'm having trouble engaging right now, if that makes sense (which I'm pretty sure it doesn't but still).  I guess life right now feels really transitional; a lot of changes have happened since the beginning of the year and I feel like, in a way, I'm struggling to catch up.  Like the changes are happening faster than my mind can process them.  And even though they're good changes (for the most part), they're still scary.  And I definitely have a tendency to detach a little when I'm uncomfortable with changes.  But I'm working on it and I'm not worried.

That's about all I can think of for now.

5 Little Pills and Bitter, Bitter Regret

Did you know that I take 5 pills a day?

Four of them are Lithium, 300mg apiece; I take two in the morning when I get to work and two at night before I go to bed.  The fifth is Paxil, 10mg, and I take it in the morning with my first Lithium dose.  The Lithium pills are a little bigger than a 200mg ibuprofen tablet, and the Paxil is tiny.  None of them are hard to swallow.  None of them taste bad.  None of them make me sick or sleepy or anything like that.

Taking them is easy.

Five little pills.  That's all it takes for me to be normal.  To be well.  To be healthy.  To be functional.  Just five little pills.

It is amazing to think that's all that was standing between me and mental health.  Well, that and a little willpower on my part, but the medicine took the edge off the sickness enough that I was able to find that willpower, if that makes sense.  At any rate, I feel like medication has been the foundation of my treatment.

I am glad to know that.  I am.  I am happy to know that I do need this for treatment, and that it really does work when I do what I'm supposed to.  I am happy to know that getting better was possible.

But at the same time knowing that fills me with a bitter, bitter regret, because if I'd done it sooner, things probably would have worked out between Ex-Fiance and me.  And I feel so incredibly stupid for not being able to get my shit together then.  I look at it now and I think, five little pills to save a relationship with a wonderful man I love (and yes, the present tense is intentional), five little pills for someone to come home to every night and wake up to every morning, for a marriage and a happily ever after.  Taking five pills a day seems like an absurdly small sacrifice in comparison to what I gave up.  It kills me to know that if I'd just done this from the beginning, if I'd just done something this simple when I first had the opportunity, I might be somewhere completely different now.  It just kills me.

There are no words for how badly I want a second chance.  No words for how incredibly sorry I am for throwing away what I had.  I would give anything for the opportunity to see what love feels like now because there is no doubt in my mind that it would work the way we wanted it to in the beginning.

Some Sundays

I think of him.

I haven't cried about the break up in months but for some reason, today, I couldn't help it and I curled up in my bed and just sobbed.

2012 in Review

Three hours left until the new year, and I kind of can't believe it.  Normally I don't like new year, because it's and ending, and that's always made me sad.  But this year, I find myself looking forward to the new year more than I ever have, and even though today is an ending, it's also a beginning.

I think the truest thing I can say about 2012 is that it was absolutely nothing what I expected.  I started the year engaged and kissed my fiance at midnight; I'm ending the year single and I'm a lot more OK with that than I ever thought I would be.  I began 2012 in a mental health rash, and I'm finishing it the most mentally healthy I've been in years.  At the beginning of 2012 I expected I'd be married by the end of it, still living in Kingman, building a life with a husband.  I never imagined that this year would bring me back to Flagstaff, but at the same time, in retrospect, I can't see it going any other way.

My year was exactly split between Flagstaff and Kingman.  From January 1st until June 30th, I lived in Ktown; from July 1st until now, I've been in Flagstaff.  Sometimes I feel like I've forgotten the first half of the year and the second half is all that this year was, but that's not true.

The first half of the year is defined by Ex-Fiance, and our relationship, and the end of our relationship.  As devastated as I was when I got dumped, I've realized that I probably knew all along it wasn't going to work out as was.  I think about how I felt then and there's no question that marriage in that state of mind would have been a huge, huge mistake.  But still, I know that my love for Ex-Fiance was genuine, and we had some truly beautiful moments this year.  And I know that he really loved me too.

Besides him, the first half of the year had lots of time with my family, orchestra and bells, and an OK job with a lot of really awesome co-workers.  I am so grateful that I got to get back into music in Kingman, and especially glad that I got to ring again.  It's true that those memories are a little marred by the fact that Ex-Fiance was so involved in them, but still.  And I'm glad that I got to work at the Kingman Hastings, because it showed me that I could get back on my feet and get out of my shell a little, if that makes sense.  Plus I made some amazing friends in my co-workers, and I miss them!

I also joined a gym in the first half of the year, which is something I NEVER thought I'd do.  Even though I didn't stick to a diet or lose much weight, I'm proud of how much I worked out, because it was definitely a step in the right direction.

Then came the big move back to Flagstaff.  I remember honestly thinking I would rather die than deal with what I was going through then--Ex-Fiance leaving me, having to say goodbye to my family, having to move back to a place I truly thought was hell, this horrible sense of my life being ripped out from under me and having to find a new path on my own.  I thought the stress and the sadness would kill me.

But it didn't.  I came to Flagstaff and I got stronger.  I got better, and sometimes I am still amazed at that.  I've definitely had my downs here--all of the work drama and now going on almost two months unemployed, but that's far better than I thought I would do.  The time I've spent up here, away from Ex-Fiance, focusing on myself, has been a blessing, for lack of a better term.  I've found this tremendous strength in me that I didn't know existed, and I've discovered that I can actually survive whatever life throws at me.  I may not always do it gracefully or beautifully, but I'll get through it.

I've learned to survive without a car.  To sleep on the floor and just be grateful that I've got somewhere to sleep at all.  To not be bitter when good things happen to the people around me.  To relax and take my life day by day and be patient with myself.  To believe that I am going somewhere and that my life is worth something.  To not take people I love for granted because they do have a breaking point.

I've learned that treatment for bipolar is something that I have to take seriously, and that when I do, I get better.  A lot better.  I only wish that had clicked sooner, because there aren't words for what I'd give to experience my relationship with Ex-Fiance from a mentally healthy perspective.  I believe, still, that there is a lot of love and genuine chemistry and potential between us, and I would love to see what it feels like to be together mentally healthy.

Even though there were some hellishly painful moments, I think 2012 went the way it was supposed to.  I think that where I am now is where I need to be.  Am I sad that I'm not doing anything for new year's eve?  A little.  Do I wish I was somewhere with Ex-Fiance, getting ready to kick of 2013 with a big romantic kiss?  Absolutely.  But if I had that, I might not be looking at life through these new, healthy eyes, and really, recovery has been worth all the trouble.

As for me and Ex-Fiance, I'm starting the new year in the middle of the road, with no expectations.  I'm focusing on myself and continuing my self improvement.  I still hope that eventually he and I can have a conversation and see what it feels like to be us again, but it's not something I'm focusing on.  I have a lot of other things I want to do, but if the opportunity to see him comes up, I know that I'll take it.  But I'm not dwelling on him anymore.

As for 2013, I'm starting the year off with a lot of stress--mostly work and money related, because I am still not working and I really need to be.  But even with that in mind, I feel like I'm going into the year with a clean slate.  I'm going into it not 100% mentally healthy, but closer to true mental health than I have been in a long, long, long time.  This is the first new year in years that I've not been miserable in some way, and I actually feel like 2013 is full of potential for me.  I am just looking forward to living my life.  I feel like this could actually be my year to accomplish something great.  I'm starting the year liking myself more than I ever have, and I'm happy to have that.

So here's to 2013, whatever it may bring.

Green Eyed Monster

A friend of mine (hi Heather!) referred to 2012 as the year of love on her old blog, and I have to say, that's a completely apt description.

I can name at least ten people I know (mostly college friends) who got married or engaged this year, and a few more that I know of but don't know well who did too.  Two girls I went to college with got married within the last week alone.  Honestly, no one who got married/engaged this year was anyone I'm super super close to, but still.

Let me say this: I am sincerely, from the bottom of my heart happy for every single one of my friends who got married or engaged this year.  I really am.  I wish them all nothing but the best.

But I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting a little.  Or a lot.  A lot is more accurate.

The thing is, even though I'm not in close contact with most of these people, we have a lot of mutual friends, and thanks to Facebook, I end up seeing pictures and hearing about the weddings and whatnot without even trying.  And again, that's not really a bad thing, because hey, it's Facebook, and I would never ever ever expect anyone to not share their happiness just so that I wouldn't be sad, if that makes sense.  But still, seeing all these beautiful wedding pictures of people so in love with one another . . . hurts.  A lot.  Mostly because . . . oh, it's hard to explain.

I never thought about marriage much before Corey.  It wasn't something that particularly interested in me; I was indifferent to the idea.  But then I met Corey and I fell in love with him and I realized how much I wanted that, and I thought I'd found it.  I expected my name to be on the year of love list along with all the others, and then . . . well, you know the rest.

So it hurts, to see something that I got close to and then lost.  One of the things that hurts the most is seeing my friends with people who genuinely love them.  That probably doesn't make sense, but bear with me.  I felt like that was what was missing from my relationship with Corey--I felt like I was madly in love with him and I was so excited to marry him, but I didn't feel like he felt the same towards me.  And I WANT someone who loves me too.  I want someone who is excited to marry me, who thinks he's lucky to be with me, who's nervous to propose to me, who wants to celebrate our engagement instead of just being indifferent to it, who is proud and honored to call himself my fiance--and I honestly never got that from Corey.  Maybe at the very beginning but not much after.  I realize that back then I probably wasn't really someone anyone would be proud to be with, but I damn sure am now.  And maybe Corey did feel all those things and my perception was just off because of the mental illness . . . I don't know.  The thing is, I see that kind of love in all of my friends' wedding pictures, and I think, THAT'S what I want.  And I know now--and maybe I knew before the  breakup ever happened--that that wasn't what I had.  I think it may have had the potential to be that, but it wasn't quite there.

And it's not just the love that I'm jealous of.  I'm jealous of how big a deal everyone else's engagements and wedding seem to be.  I felt like no one really cared when Corey and I got engaged.  No one threw us any engagement parties, no one even really congratulated us.  And maybe it was because neither of us was really celebrating it, because things were going so poorly between us and all that, y'know?  I don't know, all of this is such a jumble in my head that I probably shouldn't even be sharing it.  But I'm jealous of having so many people to share it with, and that sucks.

I always imagined I'd come out of college with a decent sized social circle and a lot of friends I wanted to keep in touch with, and that we'd . . . sort of grow up together.  I think that's a big thing that's missing from my life, because I really don't have a lot of friends.  And I see these girls being in each other's weddings and just being friends, double dating with their husbands an whatnot . . . and that's probably what makes me the most jealous.  I want that.  The thing is, once I graduated college was when the bipolar really started to kick in and get bad so I pretty much dropped out socially.  And then the rest of the bridges were burnt when I got with Corey, and now looking at it from a mentally healthy perspective, I regret a lot of things.  (So if you're reading this and you're a college friend or sister, please know that chances are I still really like you, and I would love to reconnect in the new year).

Not to mention my 28th birthday is right around the corner.  I feel like I should be waaaay ahead of where I am.  I feel like I have nothing to show for my 28 years and my education and all that.

So it's just a little difficult.  Like I said, I'm happy for everyone, but it kicks up all these thoughts in my head.  And I remember how Corey never even wanted to plan our wedding and I start to wonder if I ever mattered to him at all; I remember how he didn't tell anyone about our engagement and how I felt like such a small part of his life when I should have been the most important.  It's frustrating beyond belief--I can't even really put all of it into words.  It's such a dichotomy in my head--I feel like I knew all along that things wouldn't work out the way they were, but at the same time, I still love Corey and still think there is the potential for things to work out now.  I kind of wonder how it can be both.

I tell myself that I am where I should be.  That being married the way things were would have been a gigantic mistake.  That I have a legitimate reason for the setbacks, that I have a real illness that I am only just starting to overcome.  That there is no shame in being almost 28 years old and in a sort of rebuilding phase.  That my life is my life and whatever anybody else is doing doesn't matter.  That the deadlines are only in my head, and if I don't get married until I'm 35, so be it.  That a new year is about to begin and that it and I am full of potential.

But still, that green eyed monster can be a pain.

Strange Thoughts

When Ex-Fiance and I first broke up, and I was telling people, almost everyone said that they were sorry and were sure we'd work it out.

Except Jeff.  Jeff, the books manager at the Kingman Hastings, said to me: "It's all right.  One day you'll wake up and he won't matter anymore and you'll stop thinking about him."

I remember thinking, at the time, that that was BS.

But now I'm not so sure.

I feel like I've changed almost overnight.  I don't know how to put it in words but I don't really feel like I used to . . . but at the same time I still don't feel ready to actually let go.

I'm tired.  I'll elaborate later.

Confessions & Some Self Shaming

For the past week or so, I have felt compelled to think about, in great detail, some of my worst behavior during my relationship with Ex-Fiance.  Some of the meanest and most ridiculous things I said and did to him that ultimately contributed to our relationship ending.

I honestly believe that recognizing these things and seeing them from a more mentally healthy perspective is something that I was meant to do during this time of self improvement.  I needed to realize that I was truly horrible, and not just here and there, but over and over and over again.  And I think I finally have.  I mean, objectively, I've always known that I wasn't the best girlfriend/fiance but I feel like for the first time, I've seen it through something closer to his eyes.  And it's not pleasant.  Not in the least.  I feel so ashamed and disgusted with myself.

Since I finally feel like I get it, I thought a way to make peace with it, in some way, would be to put it out there.  To get it off my chest.  Let people know that I'm horrible.  I think it's a really concrete way of acknowledging how wrong I was and admitting to my mistakes.  The worst things are tied to very private matters so I won't share those out loud . . . but these are some of the worst of the shareable ones.
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If I wanted to have sex and he didn't, I freaked out and gave him the silent treatment.  He told me at one point that he was afraid to say no.  (This got better once we lived together but still).

Once in Kingman, Gatsby, one of our cats, peed in my bathroom sink.  And instead of calmly cleaning it out I completely melted down, and screamed and cried and caused a huge fight.

Moving to Kingman and being in a new place was hard on me, and I would often stay up crying, go out driving when we had no gas in the car, etc.

I routinely made plans to leave him in my head.  When we came back to Flag a few weeks after we moved to help Jerbs move I told her beforehand that I was staying with her.  Then in November I did the same thing, and planned to leave.

When I wasn't planning to leave I'd threaten to move into the NERD room (our spare bedroom).  Once I started throwing my clothes in there while bawling . . . don't even remember why.

Once when we were first in Kingman we went to see a movie at the theatre in Laughlin.  All was good and fine and we were having a nice time until Ex-Fiance didn't offer to buy/ask me if I wanted a drink or popcorn or anything.  I didn't speak to him during the movie and I spent the whole time thinking about how inconsiderate and horrible he was.  I was a total bitch as we were leaving too.

When he lived in Chinle and I lived in Flagstaff, I routinely insinuated that I didn't know if a long distance thing was worth it.  I also would frequently--and really for no reason--stop speaking to him.  Just ignore his calls and texts altogether.  There really was never a reason for it.

I'd say nasty things online about him.  Specifically on Twitter.  I'd tweet about being disappointed in him and stuff and he'd always end up seeing it--it was so hurtful and awful of me.

The summer he lived with Jerbs and me and worked at Office Max, I'd always be in a bad mood when he came home.  And I never understood why because all day I'd miss him and look forward to him coming home, then he'd get there and I'd totally shut down, and either lash out at him or completely ignore him.

There's a lot more, but some of it's private and also, I'm just kind of making myself sick writing these down.  Suffice it to say I was pretty damn awful.
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Yep.  That was me.  That was what Ex-Fiance put up with almost every single day.  I'm not saying we didn't have some genuinely good times, because we definitely did.  We definitely definitely did.  But still, I was never very good.

There really is no excuse for all of that behavior.  I think my mind was just such a mess over being in a relationship and things changing that it completely rebelled and the mental illness constantly tried to sabotage the thing that could have made me better.  Not that that is in any way a defense.

What I can say now is that I look back on those things, and I truly feel like I do not recognize that person.  I do not know the girl who did those things, who acted that way.  I remember, though, how that girl's head felt, and I shudder at the thought of what a freaking mess I was.

And I can say, too, that I'm better now.  That I am profoundly different from who I was then.  Mentally I am functioning in a completely different, much better way.  My thought processes are not remotely the same.  Sure, I still have my bad days, but my worst now hasn't been as bad as I was then.  With consistent treatment (Lithium/Paxil) and some breathing room, I have truly gotten better.  I know that people (Jerbs and my family) can see a positive difference in me, but I can't even begin to describe the complete change within my mind.  It's amazing.

I know that the now me would never, ever do those things within a relationship.  I really do.  And I know that if I were to get a second chance, I would be so grateful.

Either way, I will use this as a learning experience.  What I've learned is how not to act in a relationship you expect to succeed, and how very important it is to stick to my treatment, because it does really help.  I've learned not to take love for granted.

And should I decide I don't want to be single forever, I know that I'll be able to be mentally healthy for my next partner, and that I'll be able to be a kind, comforting, stable partner for them.

And even if I do stay single, I am now mentally healthy for myself.  And I know now how much better I can be when I'm healthy.  That's the most important thing, I think.  Before I've always used others as the inspiration to get better (my family, Austin, Jerbs, and of course, Ex-Fiance) but now I want to get better and stay better for myself.

Six Months & An Evaluation

Today it's been six months since Ex-Fiance told me he didn't think we should get married.
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I remember that moment very well.  What was said, how it sounded, what he looked like as he was saying it.  It's hard to put into words what I felt when that happened.  I was shocked because even though I knew things weren't good, I really wasn't expecting it.  As time passed and I decided to go back to Flagstaff and I packed my things and quit my job and I realized that all of those things were really happening, I don't think it's an understatement to say that I felt like my life had done a complete 180 overnight.  I was beyond devastated and completely heartbroken.  I spent a lot of time crying--randomly bursting into tears at work, crying any time I saw or spoke to Austin, crying whenever I looked at Ex-Fiance.  I felt so lost and so . . . out of place.  The last two and a half weeks that I was in Kingman Ex-Fiance and I started to reconnect a little, and that was a blessing.  I left at least knowing that he didn't hate me and that he did still have some feelings for me.  I dreaded coming back to Flagstaff in a way that I had never dreaded anything before.  Flagstaff was, in my mind, a place of intense negativity, where a whoooole lot of bad things had happened to me, and I thought, I will never, ever, ever get better there.  The day we left for Flagstaff was impossibly difficult for me, because I honestly felt like I was losing my whole life--Ex-Fiance, my parents, my sisters, Austin, my job/co-workers, my car, my gym, a house that I loved, my pets, bell choir, orchestra . . . everything.
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Now it's been six months.  Six months since the break up and almost five months since I got back to Flagstaff.

There's a part of me that can't believe it's been this long.  For half of a year, I've been single.  It's so odd to think that because I really thought, when I got engaged, that I'd never be single again.  I also can't believe I came back to Flagstaff, because after I struggled so hard to leave this place behind, I didn't think life would ever, ever bring me back here.

So six months in, how am I doing?

Surprisingly well.  I'm honestly shocked at how well I've done since I got to Flagstaff.  I thought I'd be a complete mess.  I thought I'd get here and be completely unable to function.

But that hasn't been the case.

I've adjusted to taking the bus very well, and instead of thinking all the time about how much I want a car, taking the bus is just second nature.  I've started eating a little better and drinking more water and I've lost a few pounds.  I've held down a job as well as I could for as long as I could and am actively looking for another.  I've worked out.  I've written two short stories.  I've watched TV and slept and played video games and hung out with Jerbs and . . . well, I've lived my life.  And I have taken my medication nearly every.single.day. and I have seen the improvement that comes with it.  I've made peace with Jerbs and all the things that happened between us.

I feel like I'm doing much, much better right now than I was six months ago.  Mentally, I'm night and day.  I am so much healthier now.  SO much healthier.  I really can't even express the difference in my thought processes and the things I can deal with now.  I'm just so much more at home in my own mind.  I finally feel like myself, for the first time in years.  It's amazing.  And honestly, if I had to go through all that heartbreak to finally get to a place of real mental health, then . . . then I'm OK with that.  Because what I have needed all along was just to get better.  I feel like I've accomplished that since I got here.  Do I still have a ways to go? Absolutely.  But I'm a hell of a lot closer to my end goals than I've ever been.

Since the move I've found my own inner strength, and I am amazed by it.  I never thought I'd be this person. Back in 2009/2010 at the height of my disorder I never thought I'd get better.  I started to believe that I was just supposed to be sick, that I wasn't meant for a real, normal life like other people.  And now I know how untrue that is, and I am so happy with myself.  I really am.

The thing is, I know I still have a lot to work on and a lot to do to get where I want to be.  But the thing is, I'm OK with that now.  I feel like that's DOABLE.  I feel like I can work towards those goals and . . . y'know, meet them, I suppose.  Before, if I'd been where I am now, I'd be panicking about it.  Panicking and worrying about everything I wanted to do and struggling to figure out how to do it.  But now I feel OK with the journey, and that's a beautiful change in myself.
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So how do I feel about Ex-Fiance after six months?

In short, I still love him.  I still feel like my heart is his, and I still believe that at some point, we need to have a conversation about us.

I still want a second chance and I still think that we could make things work between us if we tried.  I still hope for that.  I think that eventually it's going to happen, and I am trying to just be patient until it does.  And I'm at a point where I feel really ready to talk things out; I feel like I'd be able to have that conversation now without freaking out or anything like that.
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At any rate, I think that from here I'm only going to keep getting better, and that makes me happy.

Looking Back

Recently, mostly out of boredom, I've gone through my Twitter account, reading tweets from the past two years--basically since I met Corey.  That inspired me to do the same thing on Facebook, and what started out as just something to do because I was bored ended up being pretty eye opening.

First of all, I remember how detached and disengaged I felt when I wrote a good chunk of those statuses, and it's an odd thing to remember.  I remember a lot of the statuses but I also remember only being half there when I wrote them.  It's strange, because that sense of detachment is something that has gotten a lot better in the past . . . oh, 5 monthsish.  And remembering it was almost terrifying, because in a way, I can't believe I ever lived like that.  I can't believe that was ever just my normal.  Now . . . well, I feel so much better in that regard, and it's kind of nice to see proof of improvement.  As far as the detachment goes, I wonder about how the whole break up thing might have helped with that, and in a way, I think I needed a big, traumatic event to pull me back into my life, if that makes sense.  (Although why a big happy event like finding the man of my dreams didn't do that I'll never understand . . . but too late to worry about that now).

Second of all, I was so negative.  Every other tweet or FB status that I posted was about being angry or sad or sick . . . I found very few positive things over the years.  And that's really just kind of depressing.  I mean, I knew I wasn't a happy person because I was sick, but I don't think I ever realized just how negative I was. I feel like I've definitely improved in that area as well, and if you look at my tweets or statuses since the break up, there's a lot more positivity.  I still have some bad days and it's not all sunshine but I feel like the bad things now are just normal things to be upset about.  Like posting that I'm ticked about not getting the job, or being frustrated over things at work--normal.  It's not like it used to be where every little thing that happened to me was negative or pissed me off or whatever.

Third of all--and most significantly, I think--I see the dichotomies in my personality; I see the kind of ups and downs and bipolar-ness of it.  Like there'll be statuses about how much I disliked Corey and how I wasn't sure if I wanted to be with him, but then within a day there'll be something about how much I love Corey and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him.  It's . . . weird.  And it kind of makes me go, no wonder there was such tension between us.  No wonder I was so uneasy in the relationship--I couldn't figure things out.

I wonder why I was so up and down with Corey.  I think, it's just because I was sick.  And then I think, could it really be that simple?  Is it really just that easily explained?

I think it is.  I think it was all the mental illness.  I know that for Corey, it got to a point where he decided that we just weren't compatible, and that was what led to the end of our relationship.  But I honestly believe that if I were completely mentally healthy and he and I tried again, we would succeed.  And this sort of past reading has made me certain that I never would have gotten better while I was with Corey, no matter how much I wanted to.

What I can say is this: I have definitely changed for the better since our break up.  Which is not to say that I don't want to get back together with Corey or anything, because I definitely do.  I am just so much healthier mentally than I was at that point in time.  I read those old tweets and FB statuses and I know that they're mine, I know that those words came from me, but I feel like I'm a different person now than I was then.

I like me a lot better now.

The Good Stuff Journal

About two years ago now, when I was really struggling mental health wise, I journaled all the time.  I mean, constantly.  And Ex-Fiance usually read it so he'd know what I was going through.  Obviously I journaled nothing but negativity--all of the symptoms, all of the bad thoughts, etc.

One night when we were at Barnes & Noble, I bought a little black journal.  Nothing fancy, just a hard covered, wire bound journal with very narrow lines (I like narrow lines).  My goal was for it to be a journal of positivity, where I could record all of the happiest moments between Ex-Fiance and me.  It was meant to be a journal specifically about Ex-Fiance and me.

Well, with everything else going on in my life I never got around to it.  I've always meant to and about 7 months ago, I decided that I'd write it and just go month by month, recording our relationship.  And by the time the break up happened I still hadn't done it.

I still have the journal, though, and even though Ex-Fiance and I are not together anymore, I'm determined to finish it, to chronicle the happy parts of our relationship.  I don't really know why, I just feel very strongly that it's something I need to do, and I've been working on it.

The thing is, even though we're not together now, and even though the relationship was probably doomed from the beginning, that doesn't mean there weren't some genuinely good, happy, beautiful times, and it doesn't mean that the connection between Ex-Fiance and I wasn't strong and real.  And I don't want to lose those things.  They're just as much a part of us as the bad times.

So I'll finish it.  And if Ex-Fiance and I get back together, then the good times are there, written down, to be remembered for years to come.  And if we don't, then maybe getting all of it down on paper and consolidating it will help me to put it behind me and move on.  Win/win.

It's not easy.  I mean, thanks to Twitter and Facebook and my own weirdly good memory I can remember things chronologically and know what happened when.  But delving back through the good things when it's all so bad right now is disheartening.  It just makes me kick myself even harder for throwing it away.  It just makes me miss him even more.  And it's not easy to go back and see how many negative Facebook statuses there are too, mixed in with the good; it's heartbreaking to see this hard, clear evidence that I was not a good partner and that I was in no shape to be in a relationship.

Still.  Parts of the past should be celebrated, and my journal, even if it's totally pathetic, will be my way of doing that.

Crushed

So I went to Kingman for a couple of reasons.  Obviously I wanted to see my family and hang out with Saucy, and I planned to pick up some boxes at my old house--like my winter clothes because it's getting pretty cold up here and all that.  

And I wanted to see Ex-Fiance.  I've just been missing him so much lately and I've been wanting to see him.  So on Thursday I texted him and asked if he wanted to have dinner on Friday.

And wouldn't you know it . . . I chose the one weekend he was going out of town to Chinle.  And it just depressed me, because I don't know when I'll make it to Kingman again.

But things were OK until I had to go to the house and get my stuff.  I'd been dreading it and the butterflies in my stomach as we (Austin and I) pulled up to the house were intense.  My mom met me there and in the end I couldn't even go in the house--I gave her my keys and told her to just open the garage.

She did, and seeing all of my stuff piled there--including the bookcase and desk I'd told Ex-Fiance he could keep using--just made me sick.  Like, it made me physically ill.  I just wanted to be done with it and I tore through there, grabbed the boxes I needed and got the hell out.  It was awful.

I hadn't expected it to be easy.  I knew it was going to be a difficult experience, and  that's one reason I was so disappointed that Ex-Fiance wasn't there--I'd thought it would be a little easier to do if there was a sense of friendliness between us, if that makes sense.  Seeing all of my boxes piled up like that brought back how it felt to be packing them and dreading moving and all the other bad things from when we first broke up--and those are the feelings I've been working very, very hard to get past.

It was a horrible experience and I just wanted to get out of Kingman at that point.  I'd planned to stay until Sunday afternoon, but on Friday night, I got to thinking I might leave Saturday night, and the whole getting my stuff thing cemented it.  (And then that made me feel guilty for leaving early because I felt like I was abandoning my family, and then I felt some of the anger towards Ex-Fiance come back).  

Plus I think my PMDD cycle has started so that did not help things at all.

I just felt crushed afterwards.  I felt completely emotionally destroyed.  I felt like I had made no progress whatsoever and I was right back at square one, right where I'd been when I left.  I felt defeated.

I'd been expecting something different.  I'd thought Ex-Fiance and I would have dinner on Friday night and that things would feel friendly between us, and that alone was something I was looking forward to.  I was looking forward to the silence being broken.  And if that had happened it wouldn't have felt quite so awful to go over there on Saturday and get my things.  

I'd also been hoping, in the very back of my mind, that seeing each other face to face after a couple months might spark a conversation about us.  And losing that made me feel a bit panicky, I guess--the longer we go without discussing anything the more worried I am about it.  But I'll elaborate on that later.

But there IS a silver lining.  As crushed and sad and all that as I felt, I didn't have an actual breakdown.  Those negative emotions were intense but not breakdown intense--just normal woman dealing with a breakup and still being in love with an ex emotions.  So that, at least, is good.

The Thing Is

Ex-Fiance has been on my mind a lot lately.  I think about him and I think about us, and I think about what went wrong between us and how we'd go about fixing it if we decided to.  I remember things and I think about just what it was like to be with him.  The memories feel weird now--like it's been so long since I saw him or touched him or kissed him that they've faded and almost don't seem real.  Sometimes it feels like it was a dream, other times I just feel amazed in this, wow, how could that have been my life kinda way.  Sometimes I wonder what it would/will feel like if/when we saw/see each other in person again.  I haven't seen him since July 15th so it's been quite awhile.

I miss him.  I really do.  And there are days when that is very overpowering, when I feel it in my entire body. When it's more a state of being then a feeling.  And I don't anticipate that going away anytime soon.  I still hope very much that Ex-Fiance's thinking of me too and that we will eventually be able to discuss us and be together.

The thing is, though, that this separation and my being here was absolutely the right thing to do.  I've read some of my entries from before I left Kingman and when I was first here and I remember how miserable I was, but now . . . now I can't imagine having stayed.  Our relationship really had suffered and I really wasn't doing well, and I see that now.  So even though I think Ex-Fiance handled it poorly . . . this was right.  Hopefully not right forever, but definitely right for right now.

Right now, I feel more mentally healthy than I have in a long time.  I'm not panicky, I'm not constantly angry, my moods don't change quite so quickly.  I'm not perfect by any means, and I know that I've got a long way to go, but I'm much closer to where I want to be now than I was before.  I'm doing really well taking my medicine--again, not perfect, because I really am forgetful--but it's much better.  I feel very open to counseling and I'm looking forward to starting that.  I think that's the big thing now--I feel more ready to just kick this crap and be done with it and live my life.  I've wasted enough time already--NO MORE.  Definitely a good thing.

I feel less anxious about where my life is going.  I used to wonder almost 24/7 what I was doing with my life and what I should be doing and stuff like that, and I was always anxious as hell about it.  I always felt like I was behind and like I'd done something wrong and I constantly compared myself to everyone else.  These feelings aren't totally gone and there are times when hearing from or about my engaged or married friends when I feel a pang of anxiety but overall, I feel much more comfortable living MY life and being on MY path now.

I've decided to go back to school and get my Masters in English, and then from there pursue my PhD.  I think deep down that's what I've always wanted to do, but I felt like it would be a waste of time to spend so much of my life in school.  I think there are a lot of reasons I felt that way but now, I think more along the lines of if it's really what I want to do with my life then I should do it.

I'm also writing again, which is fantastic.  And I'm losing weight and I'm not eating fast food.  Generally, I'm doing well.

My moods aren't perfect.  I still have my bad moments.  But now most of those bad moments feel like they're just because I'm human, not because I'm bipolar.

Now, one question that pops up in my mind for me is, why was I never able to do this stuff with Ex-Fiance around?  Why couldn't I be in a relationship with him and make this kind of progress?  And I think it's because my mental illnesses attacked Ex-Fiance so much that he, essentially, became part of them.  He became a toxin, in a way, and I needed to be away from him to actually get better.  Plus I was always so focused on him that I couldn't focus on myself.  And I think there was a part of me that thought that any change on my part, even if it was changing to get better and was positive, would make me different, and then I wouldn't be the woman he wanted.  I know that's irrational but still.

Ultimately, though, Ex-Fiance wasn't holding me back.  My mental illness was and it reflected on him. Ex-Fiance was never really a bad partner (I mean, he wasn't perfect and he had his moments but he was never awful).  It was just my mind's perception of him that screwed things up.  And that's why I take so much of the responsibility for what happened--because I did have a good man who loved me, but I wasn't healthy enough to have that.

Sometimes I wonder if my mind will ever be strong enough for me to combine my life with someone else's.

I do know that I'm going to keep working at myself.  And I'm going to keep getting better.  And my life is going to go where I want it and I am going to be happy.

More Ramblings

I think there are 2 big reasons I had trouble settling into life with Ex-Fiance.

1.  I think in some way I never felt like I had a right to him.  I don't want to get into detail because I don't like remembering all the details, but my and Ex-Fiance's getting together was a bit . . . scandalous.  Maybe that's not the right word, but something like that.  Ex-Fiance was (very) recently single when we met--like, he'd been single a few hours when we bumped into each other.  We started dating a week later and it made quite a few people very angry.  And one person spread a lot of rumors and I lost a lot of friends, and it was a stupid petty nightmare.  And Ex-Fiance reassured me throughout that he was happy with me and loved me no matter what anyone said but I think on some small level I internalized all that shit and as a result I was never able to feel like he was really, truly mine.  And I still feel that difference; other women get to introduce their new man to friends and have girls who could be bridesmaids and . . . I didn't have any of that.  So I felt like I was doing it wrong somehow.  (I realize now how dumb that is, and even though I don't know how to get over it yet, being away from Ex-Fiance has made me realize how silly it was--I don't care how we do it as long as we do it).

2.  I didn't feel like I was good enough for him.  When we met I had no job, I was drastically out of shape, I was mentally unstable, I was sharing a cell phone with my roommate (who was also my ex girlfriend).  So . . . yeah.  Meanwhile Ex-Fiance kind of seemed like everything I wanted and I think I was jealous and a little resentful.  So.  Yeah.  I'll elaborate later.

Ex-Fiance was in an unhappy relationship before me and I wanted to make him happy.  And it turns out I was actually worse for him and that makes me feel like shit.

I remember thinking that if he got over her so fast and could be with me already then he must have never loved her.  And now he's gotten over me just as quickly and completely and I feel like nothing.

I don't understand how things just end.  It's bizarre to me that I lived with him.  That I was engaged to him.  That I thought I'd be with him for the rest of my life.  That I woke up with him on Christmas morning in Chinle, that we cooked Thanksgiving dinner together, that we shared a car, that I helped him decorate his classroom . . . I just . . . I guess I just kind of feel like, how can that not be my life?  How can that not be it?

People now seem to get engaged left and right and break up left and right too.  I know a lot of people who have been engaged and broken up like it was nothing, and I just . . . I don't get it.  I can't do that.  I don't give my heart away lightly.  And when Ex-Fiance asked me to marry him and I said yes, I saw it as a commitment.  I wasn't just saying yes to wearing a ring and being called a fiance, I was committing to him for the rest of my life.  To the engagement and the wedding and everything that came after in the marriage.

I don't know if I ever felt like Ex-Fiance was that committed to me.  But I think the doubt was just the mental illness.

I wish I could just turn my mind off for a day or two.  These thoughts are exhausting.

Ramblings

I have so much on my mind lately.  I'm kind of in that phase of my head is just constantly moving.  It's not really in an anxious way just . . . crowded, I guess.  Like instead of being linear and focused my thoughts are kind of spiraling out in all directions and they're random.

Most of it is Ex-Fiance related, of course.  I think about him a lot lately.  I miss him so much.  September 20th would be our second anniversary and I'm dreading that day because . . . well, obviously.

I don't even know where to begin.  I have no idea how to begin to sort or categorize these thoughts, if that makes sense.

I just . . . I miss him.  It was this time 2 years ago that I was falling in love with him, and it was the most amazing, wonderful thing I'd ever felt.  I can't describe it, and I'd never felt that way before.  I loved him, and I loved how I felt when I was with him, and I loved who I was when I was with him.  I felt whole and healthy.  He made me want to get better.  He made me feel like getting healthy was worth it.  I think one of the reasons I'd never really tried to get mentally healthy before was because I never felt like there was anything worth getting better for.  I never felt like getting better would improve anything--it wouldn't make my debts go away or get me a job or make me lose weight.  But then I  found Ex-Fiance and I felt like there was something worth getting better for.

It wasn't just him.  I mean, I wasn't just thinking, I need to get better for Ex-Fiance.  He made me feel like I could do anything.  He was supportive and encouraging of my writing and always told me that he'd support whatever decision I made about grad school/careers/etc.  He just made me feel like I could live my life, like I wasn't a total failure.  He made me feel like the life I wanted was possible, and that was priceless.  I have said before, and will say again, that whatever happens between him and me in the end, I'll always be grateful to him for that.  Before I met him, I was hiding and sort of shutting myself off from the world and I hated that.    It is strange to think about that beautiful beginning and how it led to nothing.

I loved the life I thought I would have with him.  I loved the thought of being a bride and having a beautiful wedding and taking his last name.  I loved the thought of living together and hearing about his day when he came home and cooking dinner together and just . . . all that silly domestic stuff sounded so good.  I loved the thought of growing old together, and I really did imagine those things.  I never realized that was something I wanted out of life.  I never thought I wanted to get married or anything that went with it but . . . Ex-Fiance changed my mind.  Before the mental illness got bad, I was still unhappy, and I remember this weird sense of feeling like I was longing for something but I had no idea what.  I think it was that life--I think that was the answer.

But that was the beginning, and nothing turned out like I thought it would.  I just . . . couldn't get past the mental illness.  And I'm so mad at myself for that.  So so so mad.  That life was right there, waiting for me.  It was sleeping next to me every night and kissing me goodbye every morning and coming home to me every afternoon.  And I . . . couldn't.  I just couldn't live it.  And I don't know why.  I wanted it more than anything and I loved him so much and . . . I don't even know.  I feel like I had all of the ingredients for the best meal ever sitting out on the counter, but I had no clue how to put them together and I didn't have a recipe.

The thing is, though, that when I hear from or about people who ARE living that life--girls I knew in high school or college who I keep up with online and bloggers I follow--it's like, something about it just seems like it's not supposed to be mine.  Like I will never actually be a woman who can live that life.  And I try not to let my head go there and I tell myself that I can and will live that life, but that I have to get better first.  I tell myself that it is possible.  But there are days when I can't stop myself from feeling like Ex-Fiance and I could have stayed together for years and I never would have been good for him the way I wanted to be.

That's what I really hate myself for.  The fact that I couldn't be the partner he needed.  The fact that I failed when I so wanted to succeed.  That when he needed me I couldn't be there for him.  And that I lost him because of it.

But in the end I think Ex-Fiance had changed too.  When we first met he was this sweet, idealistic, romantic guy and by the end he seemed hardened somehow.  Which is probably because of a few things--being out of school and in the real world, moving, financial strain, the stress of his job.  But I'm certain I had something to do with it.  I shut him down.  I ruined him, and oh my God . . . that is the most awful thought to me.  That I took this really sweet wonderful guy and made him cynical and angry and . . . good Lord I hate myself for that.  I can't stand the thought that I'm the reason someone needs therapy or antidepressants or something like that.  Even if he wasn't perfect in our relationship either he never deserved that.  The worst thought is that there will be someone after me who undoes that and who does all the things I wanted to do for him.

I don't understand myself.

I am still hopeful.  I hope with enough time and enough help (for us both) that we'll be able to talk things out and put the past behind us and start fresh together.  I know that's unlikely but I just . . . I can't give up yet, I guess.  I still believe in it too much.

Sometimes . . .

I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.

I don't know.  Today was a shitty day.

Work was terrible and exemplified all the reasons I hate this store.  I was feeling iffy about the potential new job (like iffy as far as whether I'd take it or not if it was offered to me) but I think today's shift was a sign that if I do get it, I should take it and run.

Then the bus ride home with Jerbs was stressful because we got stuck on our first bus (thank you downtown Flag) and missed our bus leaving the transfer station, which meant waiting for a half hour at the bus station.  Plus our first bus was full of college students and went through campus, both of which stress me out and depress me.

We got home and I took a nap, and it was when I woke up that the wanting to curl up in a ball and cry started.

I just felt so discouraged.  I can't even really put into words why, I just suddenly felt so down.

A lot of it is Ex-Fiance.  I miss him so, so much.  It's just kinda hit me the past few days and I wish I could see him and talk to him.  We haven't spoken in about two weeks and tomorrow will be three months since the actual breakup.  It's weird, and I don't get what's going on between us, and I just . . . am lost.

Anticipating Heartbreak

School starts for Ex-Fiance this Thursday, the 9th, and I'm very anxious about it.  I'm anxious because I feel like his life is really actually moving on without me now.  I'm anxious that he'll meet some pretty new teacher who's kind and sweet and not crazy and fall in love with her.  I'm anxious that I won't get to wake up with him that morning and watch him get dressed and kiss him goodbye.  (It's weird, but one of my favorite parts of living with him was watching him get dressed and ready for work in the morning).

Anyway.  I guess ever since I got to Flagstaff I've kind of held out this hope that he'd call me on his first day of school to tell me about it.  Just because I think we still have a connection and . . . well, I kind of hope he'd want to tell me about it.

But I know that's not going to happen.  He's not going to call me or text me on Thursday, because he just never does.

And I know my heart's going to break.  But at least I can anticipate these things now.

I have more to write about, like how I'm now totally unmedicated, how I can hardly focus long enough to shower, how I'm sick of no one calling me for a damn job, how Hastings is only giving me 9 hours of work next week, how badly I want to work on some creative writing projects and how frustrating it is that my head won't let me, and how I just hope like hell that once my labs are done the results get to my doctor fast and I have med refills by the end of the week--but I'm too tired to go into any detail right now.