LJ Idol -- Week 3, It's A Trap!
It should be obvious who I wrote this for. At the risk of being mushy, this one is for you, B.
It's All His Fault
It’s all his fault.
If I’m smart, that’s when I get a nice cup of hot tea and take a lavender bath with candles, because that’s when the jaws of the trap are starting to yawn wide open.
It’s all his fault.
A tough day at work. No dinner in the crockpot. My youngest comes home from school in a mood. My oldest has disappeared to his job without doing the chores. The kitchen is a mess, the house is a mess, my head is a big, big mess. And I’m looking to take someone down for it.
It’s all his fault.
My favorite person in the world is my husband. The funniest, the most interesting, the most caring, the most supportive. He got me through my last episode without killing me or divorcing me, which in all seriousness must have taken darned near super-human strength. As a result, I sometimes find myself royally pissed off at him, because I’m unhappy and he isn’t fixing it.
It’s all his fault.
One of the things I’ve had to do, in the process of learning to deal with bipolar disorder, is figure out how to identify real emotions, as opposed to emotions being generated by screwed up brain chemistry. If the emotions are chemical, I have learned to defuse them, to take my emergency med if I need it, and to remove myself if necessary. If the emotions are real ...
It’s all his fault.
... then I have to deal with them functionally. If I deal with them dysfunctionally, the stress will trigger off a chemical response, and then I’m dealing with real emotions that are being magnified and complicated by mis-firing neurons in my brain. Translation: I become an emotional mess, and when that happens, everybody else needs to keep their heads well down.
It’s all his fault.
I ask myself questions. How do you actually feel? Is there something real setting it off? What can you do about it? I also ask myself, Are you sure someone else has to fix this?Can you deal with it yourself? I remind myself to watch my step. The family has suffered enough. If there really is a problem, take a mental time-out to make sure you’re calm and rational. Don’t hurt anybody.
It’s all his fault.
When it’s chemical, I sometimes warn everybody that I’m feeling bad, and would they please either keep their distance or walk softly around me? I sometimes say, “I am about to start yelling. Can we please stop this whole thing until I’ve pulled it together?”
It’s all his fault.
I remind myself that my husband is not an emotional Mr. Fixit. If something is upsetting me, it’s not his job to pet me until I settle down. He’s not a punching bag, either. If I am feeling the need to take it out on somebody, I need to clear out. Even if I have a real reason to be angry with him, I have to keep a lid on it. I can tell him, “I am really angry with you!” but I can’t scream, “Why can’t you do anything right, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?” Even if it feels like he really can’t do anything right. Even if it feels like he really is a stupid son-of-a-bitch. Watch out. Those feelings are a trap.
It’s all his fault.
Recovering from my last episode of bipolar disorder has been different, because for the first time I am aware of what’s going on. As I stabilized, I started to realize how many of my feelings were irrational, or enlarged and twisted. For the first time in my life, I came up hard against the fact that I was going to have to take active responsibility for what I did in response to emotions, because my “natural” response, my unthinking response, was bound to be as twisted as the emotions.
It’s not his fault.
It isn’t my “fault,” either -- trust me, I did not ask to have bipolar disorder -- but it is my responsibility. Bad day at work? Agitated response to a negative comment? Depression showing up for yet another round? Figure it out. Learn to deal with it. Ask for help, but remember, while other people can hand me the hammer, I have to bang in the nail myself. I can ask someone to help lift the lumber, but it’s my house. I have to be the one to build it.
Looking at the last few years, I realize that I have not only been recovering. I have been maturing. I have been taking responsibility not only for my emotions and actions, but for other things, as well. I have to admit, it’s a lot of work and a lot of stress to be an adult, but it beats the heck out of having my head stuck in the trap.
My husband agrees with me. I think he appreciates knowing that, while I appreciate his help, I no longer think it’s all his fault.
It's All His Fault
It’s all his fault.
If I’m smart, that’s when I get a nice cup of hot tea and take a lavender bath with candles, because that’s when the jaws of the trap are starting to yawn wide open.
It’s all his fault.
A tough day at work. No dinner in the crockpot. My youngest comes home from school in a mood. My oldest has disappeared to his job without doing the chores. The kitchen is a mess, the house is a mess, my head is a big, big mess. And I’m looking to take someone down for it.
It’s all his fault.
My favorite person in the world is my husband. The funniest, the most interesting, the most caring, the most supportive. He got me through my last episode without killing me or divorcing me, which in all seriousness must have taken darned near super-human strength. As a result, I sometimes find myself royally pissed off at him, because I’m unhappy and he isn’t fixing it.
It’s all his fault.
One of the things I’ve had to do, in the process of learning to deal with bipolar disorder, is figure out how to identify real emotions, as opposed to emotions being generated by screwed up brain chemistry. If the emotions are chemical, I have learned to defuse them, to take my emergency med if I need it, and to remove myself if necessary. If the emotions are real ...
It’s all his fault.
... then I have to deal with them functionally. If I deal with them dysfunctionally, the stress will trigger off a chemical response, and then I’m dealing with real emotions that are being magnified and complicated by mis-firing neurons in my brain. Translation: I become an emotional mess, and when that happens, everybody else needs to keep their heads well down.
It’s all his fault.
I ask myself questions. How do you actually feel? Is there something real setting it off? What can you do about it? I also ask myself, Are you sure someone else has to fix this?Can you deal with it yourself? I remind myself to watch my step. The family has suffered enough. If there really is a problem, take a mental time-out to make sure you’re calm and rational. Don’t hurt anybody.
It’s all his fault.
When it’s chemical, I sometimes warn everybody that I’m feeling bad, and would they please either keep their distance or walk softly around me? I sometimes say, “I am about to start yelling. Can we please stop this whole thing until I’ve pulled it together?”
It’s all his fault.
I remind myself that my husband is not an emotional Mr. Fixit. If something is upsetting me, it’s not his job to pet me until I settle down. He’s not a punching bag, either. If I am feeling the need to take it out on somebody, I need to clear out. Even if I have a real reason to be angry with him, I have to keep a lid on it. I can tell him, “I am really angry with you!” but I can’t scream, “Why can’t you do anything right, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?” Even if it feels like he really can’t do anything right. Even if it feels like he really is a stupid son-of-a-bitch. Watch out. Those feelings are a trap.
It’s all his fault.
Recovering from my last episode of bipolar disorder has been different, because for the first time I am aware of what’s going on. As I stabilized, I started to realize how many of my feelings were irrational, or enlarged and twisted. For the first time in my life, I came up hard against the fact that I was going to have to take active responsibility for what I did in response to emotions, because my “natural” response, my unthinking response, was bound to be as twisted as the emotions.
It’s not his fault.
It isn’t my “fault,” either -- trust me, I did not ask to have bipolar disorder -- but it is my responsibility. Bad day at work? Agitated response to a negative comment? Depression showing up for yet another round? Figure it out. Learn to deal with it. Ask for help, but remember, while other people can hand me the hammer, I have to bang in the nail myself. I can ask someone to help lift the lumber, but it’s my house. I have to be the one to build it.
Looking at the last few years, I realize that I have not only been recovering. I have been maturing. I have been taking responsibility not only for my emotions and actions, but for other things, as well. I have to admit, it’s a lot of work and a lot of stress to be an adult, but it beats the heck out of having my head stuck in the trap.
My husband agrees with me. I think he appreciates knowing that, while I appreciate his help, I no longer think it’s all his fault.