Someone just wrote that one of the lines in a post ought to be her mantra for dealing with the stuff that is going on in her life and it occurred to me that we all go through periods when a little saying or truism that sticks in our minds would really be useful.
If you haven't learned them already, try out some of these lines from a bipolar significant other support list.
I didn't cause it; I can't control it; and I can't cure it.
The truth about mental illness is that it just happens. When you take responsibility for something that you have no power over, you end up feeling guilty and frustrated because you are trying to fix something when it isn't even possible.
Have a great life anyways!
Part of life is the circumstances we live in, but the greater part is in our response to those circumstances. This is the equivalent to the New Testament exhortation to "Rejoice evermore."
I'm not losing my mind, I'm having a perfectly normal response to a totally abnormal situation.
Ok, sometimes you just catch yourself saying or doing something that seems totally off the wall. You've been pushed to your limits and you're pushing back in ways that make you cringe. When dealing with mental illness, you often find yourself in situations that seem a bit surreal: arguments that go in circles, checking up on someone you should be able to trust, struggling to help someone who doesn't seem to want help. Instead of thinking about how ridiculous your behavior has become, consider the cause and you may come to the conclusion that your ridiculous behavior is perfectly normal in that context.
Put on your own oxygen mask before you try to help anyone else.
When you get on an airplane, this line is part of the safety speech before take-off. The natural thing for a parent to do when the oxygen masks come down is to make sure their children are wearing theirs first, but if the parent passes out from lack of oxygen, both parent and child can be lost. Even if the child does pass out while the parent is struggling with the equipment, he will often be resuscitated as soon as the oxygen gets into his lungs. This concept extends to the rest of life when caring for other people. If you allow yourself to get so run down that you can't function, if you don't put your own health and safety first, you may not have the strength to help others.
It's not about you!
When someone tells you that life would be perfect if only you would ______ (fill in the blank), it is easy to fall into the pattern of thinking that all of the trouble in your life is your own fault. While we all want to believe that we have the power to control what happens to us, we have to accept that our power is limited. You may have some self-defeating behaviors, but much of life just isn't about you. There are other factors and other people at work in the world, and in your life, and you may have little or no power to change the situation. If you can see that doing something differently might help, go for it. But if what you are being told to do doesn't make sense or if you really are doing the best you can already--cut yourself some slack. It's not about you.
Backyard Feeder
photo taken through porch screen
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Final Edits Never End
Love Has Its Ups And Downs is finally finished--but I've had trouble with pages printing properly--the page numbers start on the wrong side of the page--so I've had to look through to make sure there aren't any blank pages that don't belong. Simple process, no?
Every time I page through I find something that doesn't seem clear enough, a rough transition, a word that doesn't feel right.
After losing a few blank pages, the book has become two pages longer than it was. When I write articles, they get shorter in editing, but this book has taken on a life of its own.
I do get a lot done while I'm editing. It's not like writing, when I write I get locked in and write for hours on end: I take lots of breaks when I edit. I finished all of the dishes, including pots and pans that have been soaking; I cleaned up the construction zone in the bathroom and marked tiles so my husband can get motivated to finish the floor; I took photos in the backyard to post on my facebook page; I took my son to get his Social Security Card so he can get his drivers license; I will do anything to avoid editing when I'm editing.
Today I am taking the whole day off. I am not going to work on the book at all. I am going to work on press releases and networking for selling the book when it is available. I'm self-publishing with print on demand, so I won't have advance notice that the book will be available on a set date--it will be available when I get a proof copy that I can approve. I can't send out any announcements until I am sure of that date, but I can write them and address them.
I am reviewing a book that was obviously self-published and it has a lot of punctuation errors in it. That makes the English major side of me cringe every time. I am so grateful to have found an editor who helped me straighten out my commas and dashes and colons. I hope I haven't let too many errors creap back in since I started fixing the page problems. I ought to know better, but I write like I talk and nobody talks with good punctuation and grammar all of the time without sounding like they are reading their lines. I do not want this book to scream "vanity press" when educated people read it.
Time to go out and forget about writing books for a while.
Bonnie
Every time I page through I find something that doesn't seem clear enough, a rough transition, a word that doesn't feel right.
After losing a few blank pages, the book has become two pages longer than it was. When I write articles, they get shorter in editing, but this book has taken on a life of its own.
I do get a lot done while I'm editing. It's not like writing, when I write I get locked in and write for hours on end: I take lots of breaks when I edit. I finished all of the dishes, including pots and pans that have been soaking; I cleaned up the construction zone in the bathroom and marked tiles so my husband can get motivated to finish the floor; I took photos in the backyard to post on my facebook page; I took my son to get his Social Security Card so he can get his drivers license; I will do anything to avoid editing when I'm editing.
Today I am taking the whole day off. I am not going to work on the book at all. I am going to work on press releases and networking for selling the book when it is available. I'm self-publishing with print on demand, so I won't have advance notice that the book will be available on a set date--it will be available when I get a proof copy that I can approve. I can't send out any announcements until I am sure of that date, but I can write them and address them.
I am reviewing a book that was obviously self-published and it has a lot of punctuation errors in it. That makes the English major side of me cringe every time. I am so grateful to have found an editor who helped me straighten out my commas and dashes and colons. I hope I haven't let too many errors creap back in since I started fixing the page problems. I ought to know better, but I write like I talk and nobody talks with good punctuation and grammar all of the time without sounding like they are reading their lines. I do not want this book to scream "vanity press" when educated people read it.
Time to go out and forget about writing books for a while.
Bonnie
Friday, June 05, 2009
Mania is looking pretty good now..
It gets "better" or worse or something. Yesterday I spent the whole afternoon-from about 11:30 to almost 6 sitting in the hospital waiting for them to admit Troy because his suicidal thoughts are bothering him.
When he finally gets to the part where he signs the paperwork, he tries to back out. They told him that he would have to convince the doctor that he was alright or he would be involuntarily admitted. So he went along peacefully.
I had signed up for a class at the library at 6:00 (medicinal herbs) and Troy told me that I should go ahead and go, that I could miss the 6-7pm visiting hours since we had spent my whole day off at the hospital and I needed the break. He did want me to get some clothes together (he didn't think about that before he went in?) and bring them to him-nothing with strings or anything dangerous-but clean socks and underwear, some jeans and T-shirts.
I'd already washed some things and put in another load before leaving for the class. Told the kids I'd be out for an hour or two and to start dinner without me if they got hungry.
I went to the class on my scooter (I think I am now known as the crazy scooter lady because I drive the thing in all weather unless it's pouring rain when I leave for work-can't work in wet clothes).
The speaker has a bit of laryngitis, so she's talking in whispers and about quarter to seven my phone rings-I run out of the room to answer it-it'sChris wondering if I need a ride home. I'm going to be here at least a while longer, so I'll call if the weather is bad when I want to come home. I'm fine.
I get back to my seat and they are passing around samples of herbs, dried herbs, tinctures, teas, etc. to show how herbs are preserved and used.
She's talking about the things you can do to stay healthy: like limiting stress-doI laugh or cry at this point?-and some recipes for "tonics" to clean out your digestive system and some antioxidants to boost immunity.
Another half hour and I get another phone call-rush out of the room-a cellphone is really loud when the class is being held at a whisper, even with the microphone.
It's Troy wondering when we will be bringing his clothes.He's spent the afternoon in hospital clothes and wants real clothes. I explain that I'm in the class I was planning to go to and that I'd have his clothes in the morning.
I'm really interested in the class, but it's hard to focus. Good thing there are take-home notes. I'm sure the instructor thinks I'm crazy or rude or something, but I just had my husband admitted to the mental ward-it's not exactly a normal day.
By the time the class ends, I am noticing that the rain is slowing down and I'm hoping that I can get home on my scooter before it starts pouring again. I go through some frantic searching for the keys-last time I lost the keys, the scooter disappeared. Deep breaths. Found the keys, got home, the washer didn't do quite the spin cycle it is supposed to do and Troy's jeans are dripping, but I wring them a bit in myhands and toss them into the dryer.
Josh, 16, has found a "salamander" at the park and wants to go to the pet store for food. It's after 8 and the pet store might be closing, besides we have no idea what this thing eats. Pack it up, take it along, see if the pet store people can guess. The only person at the pet store is a kid Josh's age-I'm sure there's a manager somewhere, but nowhere in sight. We buy a bag of tiny crickets and cross our fingers.
The "salamander" turns out to be a skink-after considerable internetresearch-whole different category, from amphibian to reptile, but the same diet-there are a few positive things in my life still. He refuses to eat anything in front of us, but he should survive. Josh discovers that the bottom of our old tank is totaled, so he takes the thing to the neighbor'shouse where they have a big empty tank he can live in for now.I'm tired so I start getting ready for bed.
Realize that it's 11pm and Josh needs to get to bed-not an easy person to wake in the morning for school. He doesn't answer his phone and Dawn offers to go get him from the neighbor'shouse. He comes home in a huff-why do I have to be in bed so early (excuse me?Early? It's almost midnight!) and he slams the door.
A few minutes later Chris goes into his room to ask how the skink is doing and discovers. noJosh. Now Chris is mad and screaming. Runs over to the neighbor's house.Josh reappears in his other brother's downstairs bedroom with even moreattitude than before. I'm too tired to deal with this-could everyone pleasejust get to bed?The alarm rings, I swear, the minute my head hits the pillow.
Time to getJosh up. He seems to be moving, but I have to keep at him or he'll fall back into bed. Never mind-there went the bus.
I drive Josh to school and when I'm just two blocks from home the car stalls at the corner. The gas gage is on empty. I knew that. Why didn't I just stopfor gas? Mind not in gear. Call home. No one answers. A man in a work van pulls up behind me and offers to push me off the road so I can go get help.See, another good thing.
I get home and TJ is just getting up. He has a Jeep with a broken gas gage,so he has a 5 gallon gas can he can take and get gas for the car. Off to thegas station. $10 worth of gas and the thing starts right up. Yep, life is good.
Get home in time to realize that Troy's jeans still aren't quite dry and Ihave to get to work. Set the dryer heavy and ask TJ if he will drop the stuff off when the jeans get dry. I'm pretty sure they are worried that mom will crash and burn at any minute, so he agreed to get the stuff to his dad as soon as possible.
It's pouring rain, so I take the car to work for the first time in months-at least I know it has gas.
Work was pretty quiet-an oasis-until a police officer shows up in mydepartment and asks to talk to me about my son. What son? What did he do now? Is this a conspiracy?
Josh is somehow involved with a cell phone being stolen at school. He didn't steal it and he only knows who did it based on the rumors at the school, but they need to talk to him and he refuses to talk without a parent.
OK, you can talk to him-but do not make him crazy.We've had a hard week.An hour or so later I get a call from TJ-Josh has called the police and told the whole story, including naming the person he believes took the phone.Josh is out of trouble with the police.
Sigh.
I've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Do you think there's room in Australia?
When he finally gets to the part where he signs the paperwork, he tries to back out. They told him that he would have to convince the doctor that he was alright or he would be involuntarily admitted. So he went along peacefully.
I had signed up for a class at the library at 6:00 (medicinal herbs) and Troy told me that I should go ahead and go, that I could miss the 6-7pm visiting hours since we had spent my whole day off at the hospital and I needed the break. He did want me to get some clothes together (he didn't think about that before he went in?) and bring them to him-nothing with strings or anything dangerous-but clean socks and underwear, some jeans and T-shirts.
I'd already washed some things and put in another load before leaving for the class. Told the kids I'd be out for an hour or two and to start dinner without me if they got hungry.
I went to the class on my scooter (I think I am now known as the crazy scooter lady because I drive the thing in all weather unless it's pouring rain when I leave for work-can't work in wet clothes).
The speaker has a bit of laryngitis, so she's talking in whispers and about quarter to seven my phone rings-I run out of the room to answer it-it'sChris wondering if I need a ride home. I'm going to be here at least a while longer, so I'll call if the weather is bad when I want to come home. I'm fine.
I get back to my seat and they are passing around samples of herbs, dried herbs, tinctures, teas, etc. to show how herbs are preserved and used.
She's talking about the things you can do to stay healthy: like limiting stress-doI laugh or cry at this point?-and some recipes for "tonics" to clean out your digestive system and some antioxidants to boost immunity.
Another half hour and I get another phone call-rush out of the room-a cellphone is really loud when the class is being held at a whisper, even with the microphone.
It's Troy wondering when we will be bringing his clothes.He's spent the afternoon in hospital clothes and wants real clothes. I explain that I'm in the class I was planning to go to and that I'd have his clothes in the morning.
I'm really interested in the class, but it's hard to focus. Good thing there are take-home notes. I'm sure the instructor thinks I'm crazy or rude or something, but I just had my husband admitted to the mental ward-it's not exactly a normal day.
By the time the class ends, I am noticing that the rain is slowing down and I'm hoping that I can get home on my scooter before it starts pouring again. I go through some frantic searching for the keys-last time I lost the keys, the scooter disappeared. Deep breaths. Found the keys, got home, the washer didn't do quite the spin cycle it is supposed to do and Troy's jeans are dripping, but I wring them a bit in myhands and toss them into the dryer.
Josh, 16, has found a "salamander" at the park and wants to go to the pet store for food. It's after 8 and the pet store might be closing, besides we have no idea what this thing eats. Pack it up, take it along, see if the pet store people can guess. The only person at the pet store is a kid Josh's age-I'm sure there's a manager somewhere, but nowhere in sight. We buy a bag of tiny crickets and cross our fingers.
The "salamander" turns out to be a skink-after considerable internetresearch-whole different category, from amphibian to reptile, but the same diet-there are a few positive things in my life still. He refuses to eat anything in front of us, but he should survive. Josh discovers that the bottom of our old tank is totaled, so he takes the thing to the neighbor'shouse where they have a big empty tank he can live in for now.I'm tired so I start getting ready for bed.
Realize that it's 11pm and Josh needs to get to bed-not an easy person to wake in the morning for school. He doesn't answer his phone and Dawn offers to go get him from the neighbor'shouse. He comes home in a huff-why do I have to be in bed so early (excuse me?Early? It's almost midnight!) and he slams the door.
A few minutes later Chris goes into his room to ask how the skink is doing and discovers. noJosh. Now Chris is mad and screaming. Runs over to the neighbor's house.Josh reappears in his other brother's downstairs bedroom with even moreattitude than before. I'm too tired to deal with this-could everyone pleasejust get to bed?The alarm rings, I swear, the minute my head hits the pillow.
Time to getJosh up. He seems to be moving, but I have to keep at him or he'll fall back into bed. Never mind-there went the bus.
I drive Josh to school and when I'm just two blocks from home the car stalls at the corner. The gas gage is on empty. I knew that. Why didn't I just stopfor gas? Mind not in gear. Call home. No one answers. A man in a work van pulls up behind me and offers to push me off the road so I can go get help.See, another good thing.
I get home and TJ is just getting up. He has a Jeep with a broken gas gage,so he has a 5 gallon gas can he can take and get gas for the car. Off to thegas station. $10 worth of gas and the thing starts right up. Yep, life is good.
Get home in time to realize that Troy's jeans still aren't quite dry and Ihave to get to work. Set the dryer heavy and ask TJ if he will drop the stuff off when the jeans get dry. I'm pretty sure they are worried that mom will crash and burn at any minute, so he agreed to get the stuff to his dad as soon as possible.
It's pouring rain, so I take the car to work for the first time in months-at least I know it has gas.
Work was pretty quiet-an oasis-until a police officer shows up in mydepartment and asks to talk to me about my son. What son? What did he do now? Is this a conspiracy?
Josh is somehow involved with a cell phone being stolen at school. He didn't steal it and he only knows who did it based on the rumors at the school, but they need to talk to him and he refuses to talk without a parent.
OK, you can talk to him-but do not make him crazy.We've had a hard week.An hour or so later I get a call from TJ-Josh has called the police and told the whole story, including naming the person he believes took the phone.Josh is out of trouble with the police.
Sigh.
I've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Do you think there's room in Australia?
Just another day in paradise...
I don't know if this is funny or sad or what, but I have to share my day. I knew it would be an interesting day because Troy (bipolar husband) had beencomplaining about suicidal thoughts and was contemplating the hospital.
Iasked him to make me a dental appointment, because I had a toothache and with 10 hour days and no phone that dials out, it is easier for him-so I knew he would call and let me know when the appointment is.
My 18 year old son mentioned that his younger brother had been texting him that he didn'tfeel well and asking him to pick him up from school-he gets there about an hour before I leave for work and already he's complaining before I leave.Yeah, just your average day.
So I start getting phone calls about an hour after I get to work-Troy,telling me that he's going to leave the phone at home if he goes to theemergency room and will take the truck if he finds the keys so I can have the car if they keep him. He's still not sure he wants to go.
Maybe twenty minutes later-Josh (youngest son, diagnosed as ADHD, but doing an excellent imitation of depressive episode these days) whining that his stomach is turning and he's getting a headache and he can't concentrate anyways.
I talk to the school nurse and she tells me that he already has too many absences and he will need a doctor's excuse to miss another day of school. Since I know that depression is not exactly contagious and that what he is describing is exactly what he's had in the past, I suggest that he tryto tough it out, rest in the nurse's office and at least get his homework for his classes and do what he can.
He's not exactly happy, but he'll try.About an hour after that--TJ (older son) calls to ask if he needs to go pick up his brother. I tell him that he's trying to get through the rest of the day and will text him if he needs to come home.
It occurs to me that "home"is not exactly the best place to be since there is already one depressed person there, but....
Troy calls just before lunch-he couldn't get an appointment on one of mydays off, but I have one at 7:30 in the morning on the one weekday next weekthat I work the full ten hours. Not exactly what I was hoping, but you don't turn down a dental appointment when you have a tooth ache. Fine.
Shortly after lunch-Josh calls back, he's not getting better and he really wants to go home. I talk to the nurse and tell her that if he can't beproductive at school, he may as well have his brother pick him up.By the time I get home at 7:30pm, Josh is helping Chris (his 21 year old brother)polish Chris' car. I ask what he's going to do about missing school. Hetells me that it was almost the end of the day anyways, so he didn't call for a ride. Fine.
I come inside, half expecting to see the phone in Troy's chair, but there he is. He tells me that he did get up and out today-took Josh to mow a lawn fora lady from church, took Josh to softball practice-busy kid for being so sick.
Troy still feels depressed and miserable, but doesn't want to go tothe hospital because he doesn't think there is much they can do for him. Suicidal thoughts DO worry me, but his thoughts are not well-formed and he is the one who suggested the hospital, so I know he doesn't want to follow through on them, so he can spend another day in his chair. I don't think dynamite would move him.
I didn't do much of anything today besides working my usual ten hour shiftas a cosmetics clerk at Walgreen Drug, but I feel tired. Can't imagine why.
Bonnie Rice http://getolife.com/bipolar.aspx Wife of Troy,BP1 and on Lithium, Depakote, Seroquel and VytorinMother to Josh, 16, ADHD and on Melatonin and Concerta for nowMother to TJ, 19, left college because there was no work in MI (it's true)Mother to Chris, 21, considering the ArmyMother to Michael, 22, married and in WI with his wife and grandmother.Try http://neighborrow.com/signup.php?ref=4770
Iasked him to make me a dental appointment, because I had a toothache and with 10 hour days and no phone that dials out, it is easier for him-so I knew he would call and let me know when the appointment is.
My 18 year old son mentioned that his younger brother had been texting him that he didn'tfeel well and asking him to pick him up from school-he gets there about an hour before I leave for work and already he's complaining before I leave.Yeah, just your average day.
So I start getting phone calls about an hour after I get to work-Troy,telling me that he's going to leave the phone at home if he goes to theemergency room and will take the truck if he finds the keys so I can have the car if they keep him. He's still not sure he wants to go.
Maybe twenty minutes later-Josh (youngest son, diagnosed as ADHD, but doing an excellent imitation of depressive episode these days) whining that his stomach is turning and he's getting a headache and he can't concentrate anyways.
I talk to the school nurse and she tells me that he already has too many absences and he will need a doctor's excuse to miss another day of school. Since I know that depression is not exactly contagious and that what he is describing is exactly what he's had in the past, I suggest that he tryto tough it out, rest in the nurse's office and at least get his homework for his classes and do what he can.
He's not exactly happy, but he'll try.About an hour after that--TJ (older son) calls to ask if he needs to go pick up his brother. I tell him that he's trying to get through the rest of the day and will text him if he needs to come home.
It occurs to me that "home"is not exactly the best place to be since there is already one depressed person there, but....
Troy calls just before lunch-he couldn't get an appointment on one of mydays off, but I have one at 7:30 in the morning on the one weekday next weekthat I work the full ten hours. Not exactly what I was hoping, but you don't turn down a dental appointment when you have a tooth ache. Fine.
Shortly after lunch-Josh calls back, he's not getting better and he really wants to go home. I talk to the nurse and tell her that if he can't beproductive at school, he may as well have his brother pick him up.By the time I get home at 7:30pm, Josh is helping Chris (his 21 year old brother)polish Chris' car. I ask what he's going to do about missing school. Hetells me that it was almost the end of the day anyways, so he didn't call for a ride. Fine.
I come inside, half expecting to see the phone in Troy's chair, but there he is. He tells me that he did get up and out today-took Josh to mow a lawn fora lady from church, took Josh to softball practice-busy kid for being so sick.
Troy still feels depressed and miserable, but doesn't want to go tothe hospital because he doesn't think there is much they can do for him. Suicidal thoughts DO worry me, but his thoughts are not well-formed and he is the one who suggested the hospital, so I know he doesn't want to follow through on them, so he can spend another day in his chair. I don't think dynamite would move him.
I didn't do much of anything today besides working my usual ten hour shiftas a cosmetics clerk at Walgreen Drug, but I feel tired. Can't imagine why.
Bonnie Rice http://getolife.com/bipolar.aspx Wife of Troy,BP1 and on Lithium, Depakote, Seroquel and VytorinMother to Josh, 16, ADHD and on Melatonin and Concerta for nowMother to TJ, 19, left college because there was no work in MI (it's true)Mother to Chris, 21, considering the ArmyMother to Michael, 22, married and in WI with his wife and grandmother.Try http://neighborrow.com/signup.php?ref=4770
Monday, November 13, 2006
Faith
I was shopping for books and heard a familiar voice. "Stop reading and start writing" it said. I hear this a lot lately and I'm getting sick and tired of it. Since I can't think of another way to stop that voice, I'm writing. I was supposed to write a book, but I can always use the things I post to this site as chapters in a book when there are enough of them.
Sometimes I feel like I'm running as fast as I can in the dark. I don't expect to know how things are going to turn out or what the future holds, but I feel like I am being guided but am not sure where I'm going. If I were running my own life, I would have an end in mind and a plan to reach it. Without that, it just doesn't feel comfortable.
I know God led the people of Isreal for 40 years in the desert before taking them to the promised land, and that it was everything they had dreamed of when they got there, but I am not an Old Testament Jew, I'm a 21st century American. We value our freedom because it gives us control. It's very hard for me.
I come from a very ordinary family. My parents are still together. I had a very Mayberry childhood. I grew up expecting to have a working husband, a home of my own, and the freedom to take care of my family and home full-time. I have no problem with working a bit to help out, but I want to be available for my children.
I married a guy who had a different childhood, but many of the same ideas and values. I was going to be a stay-home mom and he would earn enough to support us all.
But he started going through jobs like there is no tomorrow. After the first few years, he could not keep a job through Christmas for anything. It made for some really bad holidays.
He was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That explains some of the domestic violence issues we had early in the marriage and also the work problems. He has a mental health disability that makes it impossible for him to be the sole or primary bread-winner.
Our whole life went upside down and worse. Not only could he never totally support the family again, but he can't do the at-home job either. If I don't do it, chances are good it won't get done. I don't like that. It leaves me with a lot of work and not much to show for it. I expected to be living well by now, but we are in worse shape financially and housekeepingwise than we were when the boys were toddlers. He is afraid of crowds--so he can't go to most school functions. He refuses to attend teacher conferences. Those things were always my responsibility.
The problem is that I am doing his job and mine, too. That's too much for one person. So I do it all with God's help because otherwise I couldn't do it at all. I have faith that God will bring us through this and that eventually I will have a home and some security. I have faith, but I don't have a home and I don't have much security.
I'm waiting.
I'm waiting.
"Write a book and sell it for the money to buy a house. "
"Who are we kidding here--houses are expensive, books are cheap"
"Just do it"
"Who? Me?"
"OK"
Sometimes I feel like I'm running as fast as I can in the dark. I don't expect to know how things are going to turn out or what the future holds, but I feel like I am being guided but am not sure where I'm going. If I were running my own life, I would have an end in mind and a plan to reach it. Without that, it just doesn't feel comfortable.
I know God led the people of Isreal for 40 years in the desert before taking them to the promised land, and that it was everything they had dreamed of when they got there, but I am not an Old Testament Jew, I'm a 21st century American. We value our freedom because it gives us control. It's very hard for me.
I come from a very ordinary family. My parents are still together. I had a very Mayberry childhood. I grew up expecting to have a working husband, a home of my own, and the freedom to take care of my family and home full-time. I have no problem with working a bit to help out, but I want to be available for my children.
I married a guy who had a different childhood, but many of the same ideas and values. I was going to be a stay-home mom and he would earn enough to support us all.
But he started going through jobs like there is no tomorrow. After the first few years, he could not keep a job through Christmas for anything. It made for some really bad holidays.
He was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That explains some of the domestic violence issues we had early in the marriage and also the work problems. He has a mental health disability that makes it impossible for him to be the sole or primary bread-winner.
Our whole life went upside down and worse. Not only could he never totally support the family again, but he can't do the at-home job either. If I don't do it, chances are good it won't get done. I don't like that. It leaves me with a lot of work and not much to show for it. I expected to be living well by now, but we are in worse shape financially and housekeepingwise than we were when the boys were toddlers. He is afraid of crowds--so he can't go to most school functions. He refuses to attend teacher conferences. Those things were always my responsibility.
The problem is that I am doing his job and mine, too. That's too much for one person. So I do it all with God's help because otherwise I couldn't do it at all. I have faith that God will bring us through this and that eventually I will have a home and some security. I have faith, but I don't have a home and I don't have much security.
I'm waiting.
I'm waiting.
"Write a book and sell it for the money to buy a house. "
"Who are we kidding here--houses are expensive, books are cheap"
"Just do it"
"Who? Me?"
"OK"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)