I am really tired of being understanding of everyone else's flippin' issues. I am constantly the go between. Between dh and his mom. Dh and our dd. DS1 and Ds2. Dh and his sis. I mediate. I console. I explain what the other doesn't want to or won't hear.
Every time I unload something OFF of my plate, something else happens and VOILA, the plate is overflowing. I am shoveling through the BS, pulling out the facts, arranging them so that EVERYONE ELSE can see clearly what the problem (whatever the daily issue is) is and what the choices are to resolve it. I don't have 2 sons and a step-daughter. I have 6 additional overgrown GROWN children in my life.
And when I try to explain what is wrong with me or how I am feeling? I get told my perceptions are wrong. I am taking things the wrong way. Everything, and I mean everything, dx wise is acting up on me. Bipolar has me sunk into a lovely little hole that I am doing my best to climb out of, but not doing so hot. And yet I am not sleeping and am full of energy. Can we say mixed episode? The BPD has me shoving dh away as fast and as hard as I can because I am mad, just stinkin' mad at him because of his attitude. I'm dealing with domestic violence issues with the step-daughter which nobody feels she's been through when there's multiple counts of it sitting on public file, if only they'd look. That's setting off my PTSD issues big time. Let's toss in working and not being able to commit the time I need to commit to it because I'm every one's garbage dump and can we say ANXIETY because I'm not performing?
I KNOW I am not doing as well as I can or should be. I know I am flying off the handle at dumb things, especially with dh. But frankly I feel like a pat of butter trying to be spread over a whole loaf of bread. It's practically impossible. I have a whole list of stuff I need to talk to my pdoc about. I'm steadily gaining weight. I need off the Seroquel. I'm not able to get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning even with a cocktail of trileptal, seroquel, klonapin and ambien. I'm in a mixed episode. Depressed with manic behaviors. And the longer I am this way, the bigger my fear is that things are going to go bad and fast if something isn't done. Pdoc appt for this month had to be rescheduled because of Hurrican Isaac, so I am having to wait 2 more weeks to see my pdoc to talk about all of this.
Oh, and lets add in the wrist issues on my dominant hand. From the feel of things, I'm going to end up needing surgery. And then there's the recovery. I feel like someone's taken off my right arm from my elbow down. The brace is hot.
It's no wonder I am cranky. I'm tired from not sleeping. I hurt. But most of all I am upset that no one understands. Not even the person who SHOULD. I just told dh I wasn't going to do Avon anymore. I don't have the time, the money, or the ability with everything going on right now to keep up with it, to generate the customer base I need to be successful. And know what he told me? NO. You are not.
ARRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all. ~Emily Dickinson