Til 120?

Well, today’s my birthday… 32 feels a lot younger than 30 did. So that’s a good thing.

I got lots of nice birthday messages from friends and this morning my husband smiled at me and said “Happy birthday babe. I love you.” It was really nice. I know that he meant exactly what he said, but it meant even more to me.

I heard the subtext. I heard, “I’m really proud of you for working really hard to stay alive to see this birthday.

My birthday feels like a good time to reflect on the fact that I’m much more committed to being alive than I was a year ago.

But every day I still have to be so careful. It’s tiring to always be on alert. Get enough sleep, eat healthy food, take your meds, censor your actions, double check your thoughts, say that, you shouldn’t have said that, keep your job, brush their teeth, don’t let the crazy do the talking, take a shower, don’t walk there, put down the knife, smile, keep on pushing. Day after day. And then there’s the actual stress that most people have, take out the garbage, fix the sink, do the laundry,clean the kitchen…

I’m getting tired. My psychiatrist said I need to take some psychological space for myself. I googled it. I don’t remember what it said. But I’m stepping back a bit.

I don’t think that life will ever be any less exhausting for me. I guess that’s okay. I am actually enjoying this little life so I’m feeling pretty lucky for the people who are still with me on this ride.

There’s a Jewish birthday wish that says, “May you live until 120!”. That seems like a really really long time. I’m not so sure I’m up for that.

Let me work to get to 40 and then we’ll see. No promises.

maybe we can't be okay, but maybe we're tough and we'll try anyway.

Erasing the past… it’s not working

I thought it would be easy to kill her.

I thought that I could just cut the cord, redirect my domain, create a new email address, and she would disappear. It would be like she was never even there. Like she was never vital to me. But we are too closely linked. and I miss her.

As much as I want to forget it, she was there. I was there. I will always have been there. I need to close a chapter in my life but I’m not sure how. I wish I could just burn the book.

I wouldn’t be where I am today if my yesterdays had been different. I’m not sure if this makes it worth it or not. But I deeply want to be done with this struggle. I want to push away from identifying myself with this crazy. I feel more stable than I have in years. I don’t want to be the “crazy” anymore. I don’t want to need “crazy” friends to validate and inspire me.

In my darkest times, postpartum moms that I met online were a lifeline for me. I’m still in touch with most of them through facebook and blogs. Several of them, like me, found that the postpartum depression was a gift that just kept giving. And now this gift of chaos has a shiny new name, Bipolar II.

But now our ‘postpartum babies’ are getting older. (My kids are both in full day kindergarten.) Shouldn’t I be over this already? I’m clearly no longer a mom struggling with postpartum depression. But everytime I look at my facebook feed, I can’t escape it.

Today, my brain isn’t constantly reminding me that it’s broken, so I don’t really want my facebook to remind me either. Because it’s scary. And it’s sad. And now that I can (usually) feel some emotions, I don’t like to read things that make me feel scared and sad.

My doctor told me that the most dangerous part of bipolar is that once you feel stable (with the help of medications and hard work), you start to question whether or not you are cured. You question if you ever really even were sick and you stop taking your meds. Then you crash…

I just want a break from over-thinking everything. A break from having to force myself to bed early without exception. A break from having to always remember that these demons are sewn into my skin. I can try to forget but that doesn’t make them go away.

The past still haunts me (though less intensely today) and when I think about Lyla, I remember that despite my best efforts, my future is a frightening question mark. It would just be too easy for me to destroy the life that I have built, to hurt everyone that I love. It is always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting til my guard is down.

Tell me it’s not true. Say I only dreamed it. Say it’s just a scene from an old movie of years ago. (Blood Brothers)

Can I please just pretend that the suffering of the last five years was not real? Can I pretend that the suffering of the last 30 was fabricated?

No?

Box of tea called "Erase your past"