I woke up at 4 am thinking.

No, Not really "YaY!", but we're looking on the bright side. At least my day started early. Now I have lots of time to do what I want to do...which is rest. LoL!

Last night my daughter and I attended a graduation party for a friend of mine. She graduated with honors for a teaching degree at forty+ years old. I'm very proud of her. She's not only figured out what she wants to do when she grows up, but she's worked hard to do it, and can do successfully say she's earned her right to go out into the world and do it. Last night was wonderful. The light in her eyes was wonderful to see. I'm glad she shared that with me.

I still haven't figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I wanted to be a mother, but that isn't turning out so well for me. My husband has kinda stripped that from me, and instead I get to spend all my time working, literally, to support the family while he gets to spend his time mothering our child. I feel cheated and resentful but he doesn't care. He's happy. Oh the wonderful deterioration of my dreams. He's also cheated me out of the ability and years to have another child. So yay for him.

I'm depressed.

*sigh*

"You Didn't Post One of Yourself"

I uploaded pictures of my husband and my daughter on Facebook. When showing my husband the ones I had posted he mentioned that I hadn't posted any of the pictures we had taken of myself.

"I'm fat and ugly," I reply, irritated at the thought of putting my fugly face on any social media.

"Look at mine," was his retort.

"There's nothing wrong with yours. Mine, on the other hand, are awful."

He moved away with a sigh while I continued to look at Facebook.

There are so many more things that have me down. The dirty house, The realization of how ugly I am. The lack of affection in my relationship.

I realize that the worse my relationship with him gets, the worse my depression gets.

The worse my depression gets, the worse our relationship gets.

My triggers are a dirty house, a bad relationship, and arguments.

All three of which he isn't helping with.

He refuses to help me clean the house. I'm in constant pain, and he takes my pain pills. He irritates me constantly and refuses to change any of the habits that annoy me. It's no wonder I'm depressed.

Those Changes I Mentioned....

So yeah - about those changes. I had planned to write about those changes that following weekend when things weren't quite so raw within me. It's funny how life gets busy sometimes and I feel like I can't quite keep up.

Then I realized today - or last night, really, that it's been that way for me for the last few years. It's been getting worse each year but the process began a few years ago. I'm not really sure why or even how it began or what made it begin but when my back started getting worse, my ... wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Looking back is harder sometimes than looking forward. Especially when writing. I write for myself. I write so that my daughter can see these words someday and realize how much I love her. How I live each day for her. She's the reason I work so hard each day and why I put so many pictures of her on Facebook. But sometimes I lose that vision. Sometimes I try to write this but in looking back things seem jumbled - not quite as emotional and I don't know why I felt the way that I did.

So I'll just write the events as factual as I can and maybe, somehow, I can throw how I felt into the middle of it all.

We, the people at where I work, my coworkers and the higher-ups, have seen the writing on the wall for awhile now. The only question was when. Awhile ago they laid off 5 part time people in the hopes that would help us financially. Being a logical person I knew it wouldn't. I think a lot of us were. I kept hoping it would help, though. I kept working, going through my day-to-day routine as if nothing was wrong. We all did. In the back of our mind, though, we all knew.

Shortly before my last post they laid off about half of the people in our small 25 man work crew. It was hard. For some it was harder than others. I feel guilty that it wasn't as hard on me this time as it was last time, though God knows I spent tons of tears on it.

I love where I work. I believe in the mission of what they do, even if they're having a hard time right now. I know the decision to lay off those workers was hard for the management staff - we're a small team. We know everyone by name. It's not like management doesn't rub elbows with the low man on the totem pole where I work. The CFO knows my name. The President of the company comes by my desk and says hi. The decision to lay off people was hard on everyone.

That didn't make me any less angry at them for not giving our people some warning to look for another job. *sigh*

I'm over my anger, though. Life moved on, I still have my job - thank God. Oh God - thank God. Without my job we would be in so much trouble. We would lose our house so fast. I don't know my mental health could handle not living in a house again...but that's another story, for another time.

Back to the last year. Time gets harder and harder for me. For the last few years it's getting harder and harder for me to move around. I'm a big girl, sure but it's not my energy level that's declining. It's my pain free ability. I simply can't get around without pain.

I know - lose weight and it's all good, right? It's not that simple. A long time ago I was in an accident. In November I have a pain management appointment and I can start figuring out what's really going on.

I guess I just didn't realize how little I can do. The arthritis in my back limits me. The pinched nerves, the pain - I hadn't realized it had gotten me to the point that I can't garden. I had so many plans for roses and some other things when the spring started out this year. None of it got done. I was lucky to keep the 2 rose bushes I have alive.

When I go into pain management for the first time I'm taking my husband. I'm gonna let them know how little I can really do. Hopefully they'll see past my weight to the real problems and help me.

Shaving?

So I thought I'd do this new thing (to me, anyway) and try reviewing things for companies. It's turning out well, so far. I got this Gillette Venus Embrace sensitive razor. Now, before I got it I had to sign up with a company and answer some questions like "do I have sensitive skin?", "do I have razor bumps after I shave?", stuff like that. If I fit what the company is looking for they'll send me a free whatever and I get to use it.

I figured, why not blog about it since that's what they're asking for. LoL. The razor itself is pretty. All that is just frosting, though. Does it work?

The proof is in the pudding.

I went without my usual amazing shave gel and went with regular soap to shave with. I also went without my usual after-shave routine and just slathered on lotion. The result of using the Gillette Venus Embrace sensitive razor is: (drum roll please)


No razor bumps!!

No skin irritation!!

No problems!!

It was a brand new razor, and they are probably going to be expensive - but they work. So #ItsNotMe

More later - Lots of changes on the job front and in life, and I'll be writing more soon.

Inspiration and Pain

My little girl is growing too fast. School finds her no longer crying when she walks in. She's writing her name and counting to 10. 

I have my ups and downs. 

Hubby is...hubby. He is trying to help me with the house, but not the way I had hoped. He did dishes one day last week. I had hoped for more, but one day is a start. He hurts, which I can understand. I hurt as well. 

God, how I hurt. My feet. My back. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how much worse it can get, until it gets worse. Then I wonder where my energy goes, and I'm left realizing it went to dealing with my pain. 

Most women have "Aunt Flo" that makes their back cramp and gives them bitchy attitudes once a month. I have daily back pain that is about 7 times what a normal back cramp is from my shoulder blades to my hips and pain in my feet with every step. It makes me bitchy. It makes me want to rant at the world. It makes me want to cry and scream and give up. It makes me hate having to work every day.

My daughter is my inspiration. She's the reason I get up and work, though I'm in pain. She's the reason I pay the bills. 

My brain goes around and around. Circles and circles. My pain. My inspiration. My pain. My inspiration.

Mixed States - Crazy Things

So many things have happened that I'm not sure where to begin. Just within the last two and a half weeks my father-in-law had been diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer and was told he had a heart attack with 3 blocked arteries in his heart. One artery was 100% blocked, one 98%, one 75%. Because of the heart damage they couldn't do chemo - it wouldn't do much anyway because the cancer had already metastasized to his liver and other places.

They could elongate his life by putting in a stint in one artery - the one that was 98% blocked. He would then die of cancer rather than of his heart. He chose not to do that, however. He would rather die quickly than slowly and painfully.

Sadly he did die of pain. Last night my father-in-law took his last breaths with his chest burning like fire. He knew they were his last. He knew death was coming. He kept saying "this is it, this is it." At one point he said "what a day, huh?" and looked at his wife and said he loved her. Then he took his last breath. He died with his son(my husband) and his wife holding his hand.

It's easy for me to write this without emotion mostly because I think I'm cried out at the moment. Alain was at peace with death. He had lived a good life and had accomplished everything he felt he had set out to accomplish. He was saddened by his relationship with his eldest daughter because she had cut him out of her life but it was her choice - not his. I'm at peace with his peace. I'm sad that he's gone, but I believe that death is a part of life. Grief is for the living and though I grieve for the loss of him our lives will go on. Our lives were enriched by his life, forever changed, and hopefully we will carry on the lessons he taught us and change others for the better because of them.

With all the stress and all the emotion flowing through the family members my bipolar hasn't been doing too well. I've been in a poorly controlled mixed state. My pdoc has decided to change up my meds a bit which is a good thing and since then I've gotten a little better but I'm still not 100%. I still cry easily, and I still anger quickly. But it's only been maybe two weeks since my meds have changed so hopefully I will continue for the better.

Really that's all I can say for now. There has been more I'm sure but since I've said this nothing else seems important. I suppose sometimes the death of someone in your family - no matter who it is - takes precedence over all other things on your mind regardless of the manner of their death.

Alain - thank you so much for enriching my life and teaching me the things you've taught me. I hope I do your memory justice. May you rest in peace and meet your friends on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, and your family members in Heaven.

Is This Me, Or Is This Being Bipolar?

Sometimes my life is so frustrating. It's hard not to cry. To yell at my husband and scream obscenities and curse and tell him to go - just leave and never come back. It's not that I don't love him. He's my best friend - I love him dearly and am in love with him.

It's that he constantly undermines my authority with my daughter, constantly  makes me out to be the bad guy, continuously dashes my dreams of being the mother I'd had my heart set on being from the time I was able to have dreams of being anything.

That's all I ever wanted. Remember back in the day when you're five years old and your teacher at school asks you what you want to be when you grow up? I wanted to be a stay at home mom. The teacher told me to choose a career so I chose a veterinarian because I love animals. In my heart of hearts though I've always wanted to just stay at home and raise children. I love kids, babies most of all. I love holding them, the way they smell. Even listening to them cry doesn't bother me.

I never suffered like most new mothers do. The early days of motherhood when your baby wakes every couple of hours were wonderful for me. I held my daughter close, treasuring those times with her. I gently cleaned her for her diaper changes and fed her and rocked her to sleep and cried deep gut wrenching tears because I couldn't breast feed her like I wanted to.

The men in my life have all chosen not to work. I work. Day in and day out I support the family. I don't mind it so much, really, except for the fact that it kills me a little sometimes. It killed my dream of being a stay at home mother to my only daughter. I'll never have that back.

Never.

I didn't get to see her take her first step. Or hear her first word. When she hurts she runs to Daddy. When she's sick she cuddles next to Daddy on the couch. She's growing up so fast and at times I'm afraid I'm going to miss it. And it breaks my heart.

Now, when I'm at work Daddy lets her ride her scooter in the house. Mommy doesn't let her ride her outside toys in the house. And now Daddy's the fun parent and Mommy's the mean one. At 5 years old and starting school in August she's decided that Mommy's mean.

She has no idea how this makes me cry at night or breaks my heart. She has no idea how her innocent words completely tear my world apart and break pieces inside me that will probably never heal.

She also doesn't know how much I treasure each hug. Each happy moment spent with her is a moment imprinted in my memory and on my heart.

I will never have the chance to have another child. She's all the more special to me because the man I'm with will never allow me the gift of another blessing. She is my blessing. She is my miracle.

Thing is, whenever I mention how I feel about this whole situation to my husband he just says I need to take my happy pills - or my bipolar medicine must not be working because I'm getting depressed.

I wonder if the husband knows how much he screws up my dreams for me. I wonder if he cares?

I wonder how much of my feelings he attributes to my just "being bipolar"? It's a shame, really. Because I don't know how much of what I feel is valid - or is just me being bipolar anymore.

Where does my illness end and I begin?