I thought my Psychiatrist was supposed to be my therapist? You know: Psychotherapist. But with all this P-doc/T-doc shit my eyes are opening. I wondered why my sessions only lasted around 20 min. and focused mostly around my meds. So when my wife came in the bathroom while I was bath-reading, and she talked about maybe me seeking some counseling with a therapist, I said yes. I think I will do it out of town though. I live in a small town and I would hate to start getting paranoid when people look my way.
She was despondent and steadfast, like she had decided something difficult. She sat down and waited for me to put down my novel. She said that she had done up the bills and figured out that she had so much that she could allot me each month after all of our bills were paid. She said that she wanted me to go way for a while and live somewhere else. That she wanted me to take that money and go find myself: to make myself happy again. I told her no way, that I’m not going anywhere, that I loved her and the kids. She said that I could go anywhere, anytime, anymore. She said that I was free to do whatever and that she wouldn’t stop me anymore. I said that I wanted to stay home and be with the family. She said that I wasn’t at home with the family and hadn’t been there in awhile. That I sleep all the time to escape reality and when I was awake I was in the tub reading away from the family or on the computer. She said that I am cold and distant. I haven’t even been eating with them in the past few weeks. That I sleep until dark and then get up or sleep until work and have to take my supper with me.
She is right I have been distant. I am getting worse. I have created my own little world that I live in and I don’t let anyone in my little territorial bubble. I fucking suck. I have been getting worse. I don’t even barely associate with my own family anymore, even with them right in the same room. Fuck. I’m not really observant sometimes. I am emotionally neglecting my family. I must stop this. I am getting deeper every day. I don’t even talk to my wife. She is pissed that I can write all the shit for anyone to read, but I can’t tell her these things. It hurts her so. She deserves so much better than me. She says that workers, relatives and friends call me when they need counseling from someone that is compassionate caring, but also tell them the way I see it. Why can’t I be that shoulder for her? I don’t have an answer.
I think part of the reason I have faded away is my mood swings and the anger that I feel at times. To save them from my demons.To save them from my mental abuse. Sometimes their voices pierce my skull. The laughter screeches across my mind like nail on a chalkboard. Some days the TV is a horrid droning that threatens to tear me apart. When I’m like this I am very short with everyone. I am quick to scream. Hell, the other day I just woke-up after the sleep of the dead. I hadn’t seen anyone all day. I walked down the hallway and my 9 year old daughter was singing. She was just holding one note and bellowing it out. She’d take a breath and commence to do it again. I said hey stop that in a calm voice even though it was killing my brain. She stopped, took a breath, and started again. I screamed didn’t you just hear me. There was deep-throated bass in that scream. Pure evil. I felt the fire in my eyes the flush on my face. My daughter cringed and then they all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare in shock and the me. I just turn around and went back into the bed room and stared at the ceiling as I grabbed the sides of my head and quietly berated worthless self aloud. I have done this their hole lives. I am horrible ashamed of it. I will get help. I have been tons better than before the meds, but my demons are still there and they are sneaky. They want out. Sometimes I can’t control it. I will get help. My meds aren’t cutting it. I hate myself. I don’t mean to be a bad father. I love them so. I am crying as I write this. I am such a pussy. I think meds might not be the culprit. Maybe I’m just a delusional fucking piece of shit. I need help. I have treated everyone I know like shit at one time. Everyone walks on egg-shells around me. What kind of mood is he in today. I’ve noticed that my workers actually come in to my door at the beginning of every shift and ask how I’m feeling. They’re testing the waters – is he CRAZY today? Do we have to hide from him or is he the nice, funny, congenial, sympathetic, rational, Ash.
It is time for the kids to get up for school. I need to get off and wipe my pussy eyes before the kids see me. They would know what to do if they ever saw me cry. I’m going to give them both a giant hug this morning. My wife is a great person. I love her and I’m so sorry that I’m such a dipshit. I will get treatment. I thought I was. I need more. A different kind. I can’t keep going on. I was going to was going to wait to go to my p-doc and get him to recommend someone, but after this I have to open the phone and get so help. For my family’s sake as well as for me.
My wife said that there are 2 me’s: the fun, happy, caring, sympathetic Me; and the hateful, rageful, discontented, evil Me. And that she wants the fun me back. That I’m slipping away, farther and farther between visits.
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7 comments:
Psychiatrits are there to diagnose you and give you meds, check on your meds, and that is it.
Counselors/Therapists - are there to listen and talk...
I go to my shrink for med checks and then to my counselor 2 a month to talk and vent.
My shrink appointment is only 30 minutes and I don't see him every month.
Hope you are feeling better soon :)Thanks for stopping at my blog.
Hi there,
Thanks for dropping by earlier. Man I so get where you are coming from. I've been there in those periods where I avoid all family interaction. I'm okay I tell myself fail to really notice until afterwards that little things like the TV or eating with them seem too much and I just hide in my room like a sulky teenager.
My husband does his best when I get like this but I know it's hard on him.
I'm waiting on a thing called CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) now that my moods are more stable my doctor has referred me for this. I've read that it might help me to kind of answer back the voice in my head (I don't mean like a real voice in my head, just my thoughts you know?) Like I'll be able to be more rational and hopefully get better at taking part in normal family stuff again.
I've had moments lately when I have been able to "be there" but in some ways thats tough too because it lets me really see what I've been shunning when I get down.
Hope things work out.
Your wife must love yu to be wanting you to get the help you need. It sounds like she is just finding it tough.
hey ash,
does your wife read your blog?
Thanks guys or gals I should say.
Anonymous Mom - Yes she does. And she was pissed about the last post. She said that I portrayed her to be the bad guy. Sometimes I wish I would have kept it private, but we try to keep no secrets.
Thanks everyone again.
she does not at all look like the bad guy... it's a struggle for both of you.
i wondered about her reading, because you appear to be better at written expression than oral expression...
dude ive been there.... a therapist will help you get this out, not only in your blog but in words, and help you start to deal with some of it. it is a process, but it will make things better with the wife. Im the same way, i cant say things, im totally incompetant at communicating verbally, but when it comes to speaking my mind i lock up and sit silently. You have to let it out.
I didn't see your wife looking like the bad guy. I felt her reactions were out of frustration and feeling powerless over the present situation. I imagine many family members of people with bipolar feel these things. I saw it in my mom, and in my dad, manifested in different ways. My dad told me to get help or leave because my depressive seclusion was too much for him. He was cold and hard about it too. He didn't calmy urge me to go. He all but disowned me. My poor mom sat next to me and cried and told me she just didn't know what to do anymore. So I did a LOT of research, learned about bipolar, therapy, medications, and have been pulling things together on my own. There's hope. Therapy has helped. Meds have helped.
You mentioned going off of Zoloft in another post. Do you think this may be contributing to your distancing yourself and decrease in patience? Those can be symptoms of depression....
Take Care
~j~
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