Here's to Happy, Sane and Blissful

Still trying to figure out what combination of medication is best for me. It's been a very trying few months and these last few weeks have been the worst. Everyone has stress and everyone has problems, that's just life, but there's something in me that doesn't or isn't allowing me to cope well enough. Not the way I used to. It certainly doesn't help that Rigid opposes me at every turn. When he's with me he's with me, but when he's against me...Lord help me. (By the way, not religious...I've tried.)So I've gone through many different types of conditions knowing full well that Bipolar Disorder runs rampant in my family. I've had symptoms that exactly mimic Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). I've taken Prozac, a widely prescribed antidepressant. It worked. It was nice. Rigid would say, "(insert name here) is stupid because (insert a dumb ass unprovoked reason that makes no sense)" and I would say, "Wow, sorry you feel that way." or "You know what, your upsetting me. Leave me alone." and I could easily walk away. Most times I would feel this insane pressure... this horrible need to correct him. And I would, I'd correct him until my teeth started to bleed and his eyeballs would just glaze and he'd give up. I have more stamina for fighting and arguing my point.

I'm better at debates even when I'm wrong...I'll probably win. There are times of course when that doesn't work because Rigid is, of course, SO FUCKING STUBBORN it's like talking to a mule. But it didn't matter. I was on Prozac. We had a few fights during that month, but I did much better behavior wise so I was quite pleased. Unfortunately it had a few sideffects. I wasn't able to focus, concentrate or pay attention almost at all. My house was a pigsty and I didn't care AT ALL. It didn't bother me in the least. It became such a problem that Rigid even saw fit to tell his mother what was going on. He's lucky I was on Prozac because If I had been feeling then what I'm feeling now, I'm pretty sure that tile I threw at his head the other day would have hit him square in the face. In other words, I wouldn't have a husband anymore.

I mentioned all these things to my Drug Pusher (my P-sychiatrist) and he thought I might have ADHD. There was more to the discussion of course and well... I know he's not wrong. My little sister and I were both diagnosed with something when we were younger and were both positive that it was ADHD and Bipolar disorder. At least on her behalf because I was still a little better behaved and had a bit more control. Actually... I simply had more shame. Point is we started treating me for ADHD. He mentioned the Adderall (an amphetamine) would make me "...a little grumpy." I told him a little grumpy could mean the difference between snapping at my husband and snapping his neck so... probably not the greatest idea for me, but we went for it anyway. I was a little grumpy and a little anxious... and a little manic. Just a little so we tried to include Strattera. No dice, the Antidepressant ADHD medication just wasn't doing the trick so we upped it. I stayed at 10mb of Adderall and upped the Strattera to 25mg. That was close to two weeks ago. Last week was probably among one of the worst weeks emotionally speaking, but I handled it well. I mean I was teary and all of that, but I felt good. My house has been really clean for weeks now and last week I was in better spirits. Of course, I was in between cycles. My one true week of peace. I hoped it would last. I hoped that the combination of medications would give me the edge I need to finally succeed in life. I wanted it so badly but it was happening again. Can't focus, can't pay attention, can't concentrate. I hit me pretty hard this weekend.

Sunday I started feeling a little feverish. Just all around not well. Monday I felt like I had a fever at work. Just a slight temperature of maybe 1 degree. Don't ask me how I can feel that.(I'm a woman and I want to get pregnant, that's how.) I still didn't put two and two together. Sometime during the day I felt pain in my ovary. 'Today's the day. Good Lord I'm ovulating. Be careful.' I thought to myself. 'Whatever he does, just take it with a grain of salt. Don't obsess and you'll be fine.' Plus I figured I had the Straterra on my side with a higher dosage so I should be able to handle it. Can you tell where this is going? I did well all day long. I eventually got home early. I was going to go straight to sleep, even though I'd just taken Adderall I was exhausted, but I also wanted to game for a couple of hours. Maximise my time by doing a little of what I like to do and then do what I HAVE to do which is study. I did well. I gamed, I cleaned, I started dinner and I opened up my book. an hour passed and I had gotten no where. Literally no where. I got up to check my dinner, paced around the house a little, picked this up, put that away, back to my book, check my messages, turn on my Itunes (maybe that'll sooth me and help me concentrate.) back to my book, check my groups, back to my book, look up a word, check some sites out, back to my book....I couldn't stop. I closed down all my windows and promised not to check the Internet anymore, not even to look up a word, but it was too late. By the time I realized it another hour had gone by. In total I read less than a page and a half in 2 hrs. I didn't notice until Rigid came home. I was absolutely astonished that he was home so soon. It was something like 6pm. I couldn't believe it. I didn't do anything. That's the absolute worst I've ever been.

He tried to make me feel better. Told me that I wasn't feeling well and that I was probably coming down with something. To take my time and do it at my own pace. 'That was nice.' I thought. The lamb I had in the oven was done though and it was time for dinner. I don't know how it came out so good. I haven't been able to buy anything that I need for the kitchen in the last few weeks. No onions, garlic, garlic salt or any other seasonings other that salt and pepper. I found a lemon and thew in a can of cream of mushroom and KERPLOW kick ass lamb and mashed potatoes. Yum yum. Once I was done with dinner my little sister called me. She's moving and mom will finally be finding a place of her own even if she has to share a room with someone. (I know this is long, but the good part is coming.) She's discussed the possibility of moving in with me, IF I need the money of course, but we don't and I've made it quite clear that Rigid and I need to be alone right now. Things are far too tense already. So I talked to my sister and she let me know that she found a place for $1500.00/month over looking Hollywood, but that there were a lot of stairs. She wanted my opinion as to how in the world she would get all her things up all those stairs and into her house, if in fact she gets it. I gave her a few suggestions. I would have offered to help, she knows that, but right now isn't a good time for me or for Rigid. His back is still injured and he already moves things at work sometimes which makes him hurt more and well, I can't be any help there either.

She took my suggestions and said she felt better and wouldn't worry about it then. Her boyfriend has friends that might help and if worse comes to worse they could go to Home Depot and find some workers who will take 10/hr. Besides, the heavy stuff is the guys responsibility even if her guys leg is injured because he has diabetes. He'll find a way. I have faith in him. So I got off the phone and right away Rigid begins to grill me as to what the conversation was about. Thing is that when he does that, and he does it a lot, he's not asking just out of curiosity. He's gathering information for a malicious attack. He doesn't attack me directly but his words are piercing and painful. He begins to call her stupid and an idiot for trying to find a place with so many stairs. Begins to call my brother in law an idiot for going a long with it. I tried to deflect him by letting him know that he was being hurtful for no reason and that he needed to stop. I tried to get him to stop by making him acknowledge his wrongdoings and make him apologize to me for his behavior. Thing is that when he's not ready to apologize he makes things worse. He makes condescending remarks and sarcastic apologies. I tell him he's starting to go too far, that he's pushing me, but he keeps on going on and on mercilessly.

SNAP I begin to cry uncontrollably and yell at him to leave me alone. Probably called him a few names too. That's when he fucked up. "Fine Michelle, I don't know why you always have to get like that. Maybe I am doing this to you. I'm not helping. Maybe we should break up." BIG FUCKING MISTAKE. The next thing you know two very heavy clay tiles that I brought home from Ensenada, Mex to use as coasters went ROCKETING past his head. BAM! One passed inches away from his face as he turned back around to face me and slammed straight through the living room window. SMASH I sent the other tile up higher than the last so I'd definitely miss his head and not break the other window. How can I do something like that, but be so calculated in my actions at the same time? The reason I threw that one high up was because I REALLY wanted to smash it over his face and if I really wanted to hit him I would have. Right between the eyes. I have an uncanny ability to aim where I want to. As he turned to face the window I smashed he started to mutter and call me an idiot under his breath. I turned and went to my room closing the door behind me unable to lock it due to our last escapade when he smashed through the door afraid that I'd do something to hurt myself again after pushing me in much the same way. I stood behind the door and held it down with my weight, but I knew that wouldn't stop him so I didn't push back when he tried to come through the door. I would have slammed up against the wall a lot harder if I had. I just hugged the wall and cried hysterically. I remember telling him he was sick. There's something wrong with him. That I know what's wrong with me and he's sick. He started telling me things that I completely blocked out. Tried touching me and eventually tried to comfort me but I couldn't stand his touch.

It seemed so fake to me. It was too late, I was completely off the deep end. He started to grumble that he's just leave me alone then. Something like..."...for all I care." I can't remember. I stood there and cried hysterically for a bit longer and something happened in my brain. I think I heard him saying that he would just leave because he wasn't doing me any good. That he really was making me worse. I felt so devastated. So out of control. SO FUCKING ANGRY that I can't fix myself and I BASHED my head into the wall... twice...hard. I cried some more wondering why I did that and how could I let him do this to me AND IT'S NOT ALL MY FAULT!!! Not all of it, so I held my head and smooshed myself into the corner so I could resist the urge to bash my brain into pulp. The whole experience was very visual too. I could see myself pound my head into a bloody stump. Of course Ridgid heard the bangs and came straight in. He tried checking my hand to make sure I didn't break it. Normally the worst I would do would be to punch something really hard. I've never broken my knuckles luckily enough, but I've done enough damage so that gaming is nearly impossible on most days. I begged him not to touch me and he just stood there not knowing what I did to myself. I think he figured it out when I started mumbling, "Don't don't don't don't don't. Don't hit your head." over and over again.

He tried talking to me, and then he tried soothing me. He was scared now. I think I head him say,"Shit!" exasperatedly and tried to come near me. I started screaming like my skin was on fire and I almost lost my grip on my head and smashed my head into the way. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???? I held myself tight and smooshed into the corner again. He sat down, not knowing what do to and I eventually started to calm down. I tried to regulate my breathing, think something other than blood,flesh, skull and brain matter or death. I remembered my Dr who told myself to try my best to remain calm and not to let my husband get to me. Through my gasps and dribbling drool I managed to calm myself a bit and then, "Maybe you really are right. I'm just making you worse Michelle. I can't do this to you anymore. It's not fair to you. We shouldn't be together." I crumbled to the floor like a rag doll all the while continuing to hold my head in my hands. I was broken. He shut up after a while realizing that now was probably not the best time and let me calm myself down. The anger finally completely overcame the despair and I let him have it. I didn't even get the chance to get into it with him though because my little sister called me.

My little savior. I let it all out. I told her what I was going through and she guided me through the fear and anxiety. We discussed my medication and she chided me for not being honest with my Dr. and for not telling him that we should concentrate on my Bipolar Disorder. That ADHD, if in fact I had it at all, should take a back burner until I stabilize my mood. That I should put down my book and concentrate on myself and my marriage for now and live a little. I calmed down, I love my sister so much for that. If I didn't have my ex-husband and my little sister I would be completely lost... No, I would be dead. I was eventually able to go back to Rigid when he called me. I knew he would have been searching the Internet high and low for something to help me feel better. He found a Psychotherapist to go to and told me that he likes him already because he too shares a military background and perhaps he'll be able to help him find an answer to his problem. I said that was fine, but why send an email? Why not just call tomorrow when their open? I guess that was the best he could do at the moment.

He wrote something to the Dr. and said something to the effect that he was having problems with his marriage. That he said and did things to me knowing that he would hurt me and that I wouldn't be able to handle it because I was Bipolar and he didn't know why or what to do anymore. I have to be honest. I didn't really care. Sometimes you actually can be too late. I won't be doing this anymore. EVER. It's been three days and my head STIL hurts. How fucking stupid is that of me? I'm going to see my Drug Pusher, request a therapy specifically for Bipolar Disorder and wait for Rigid to get the therapy that best works for him. Even if it means no drugs. Just something that gives him the tools he needs to implement them into our arguments and helps him not to pick fights for the sole purpose of pissing me off. He has absolutely no fear that I'll harm myself or possibly kill myself. No fear whatsoever. I can't be with someone like that. I won't. So my next step will hopefully be Depakote or Zyprexia (Hopefully I'll never have to take Lithium) and something to help me for concentration and .... well, who fucking cares. Just so long as I can stave off the manic and hypomanic episodes and finally for once have a happy, sane and blissful marriage and uneventul periods.

Footnote:

I've been doing a lot of research in the hopes that I'll get through to Rigid. I haven't told him that he HAS to seek help just that this would be the last time this happens to me (like the millions of times before.) and that If I didn't see improvement I would be making a decision within three months. That's the only thing that's changed. My time frames are getting shorter and he's starting to realize that. SO I'm trying to give him some tools to learn a little more about himself and aid him on his road to recovery from... whatever the hell he's trying to recover from. Yes, he could have PTSD, but here's a little something I found the other day that fits the bill EXACTLY.

PAPD Anger:
PAPD anger may be expressed directly or indirectly. Whether these individuals communicate their anger by omission or commission, they justify their rage with a lofty motive -- making a perfect cover for malicious intent (Kantor, 1992, p. 178).
Indirect expression of anger can take the form of chronic, seething hostility or sadistic carping criticism (Kantor, 1992, p. 179). Irritating, oppositional, and resentful behavior can be demonstrative of a pervasive pattern of passive resistance (Sperry & Carlson, 1993, p. 335). If there is a PAPD pattern of chronic hostility and resistance, no situational provocation may be needed for these individuals to engage in preaching behavior; excusing self by accusing others; bumbling behaviors when competence is actually possible; and using a positive gesture as a vehicle for a negative message, e.g. including relationship grievances in a Christmas card (Kantor, 1992, p. 177).
Other individuals with PAPD will express their rage overtly and directly. Aggressive PAPD behavior is intended to inflict discomfort, hurt, harm, injury, or destruction. These individuals have a disposition toward anger and aggression -- referred to irritability (Lish, et.al., Costello, ed., 1996, p. 32). They may have temper tantrums that release pent-up aggression; if their victim is aggressive in response -- so much the better. That response is then used to vindicate the initial attack. Anger expressed by commission is usually justified by laudable motives, e.g. concern for the well-being of the victim. The expression of the anger is dictated by the desire to wound while concealing the intention to wound -- even the existence of the anger. This is not to spare the feelings of the victim but to wound them more effectively. The intent is to provoke counteranger with such subtlety that the victim blames himself and believes his anger is not justified. That way, people with PAPD can assume the role of innocent victim (Kantor, 1992, pp. 178-180). They may make directly hostile statements because they fail to perceive their own motivating attitude, perceive their hostility too late, or believe that their attitude can be concealed. They may remain unaware of the implications of their behavior or words (Kantor, 1992, p. 178). PAPD avoidance of taking responsibility for the provocative consequences of anger produces paranoid overtones. These individuals are often surprised at the response they provoke; they typically deny having given cause for the angry responses they receive or they accuse others of overreacting. Many of these individuals will endure growing isolation rather than alter or give up what they believe to be their right to free expression (Kantor, 1992, p. 182).