Breathing Lessons.

I absolutely adore Anne Tyler.  She is my favorite author ever and if I could only read 1 author for the rest of my life, it would be her. 

For some reason, 1 of her books really resounds with me and as I listened to the audio this last week over vacation (for the umpteenth time) I started making notes on my phone as I walked to it.  I realized that so much of what I was hearing was 'me'; that it expressed things I maybe didn't see, or couldn't put into words. 

In "Breathing Lessons" a man and his wife, Ira and Maggie, take a day trip to go to a funeral.  As the day progresses, you get a glimpse into their lives and histories, and meet others along the way.  The entire book takes place in a 10 hour period, and the insights that are revealed about this couples' lives are so impactful.

Maggie reminds me of myself.  Awkward.  Wanting to always please.  Wanting to hold onto things that may need to be let go of.  Worried about her looks.  Not always confident in her worth. 

One of the biggest struggles Maggie has is saying goodbye to her daughter who will be leaving for college the next day (her son already lives on his own), and wanting to reconnect with her 7 year old granddaughter who she hasn't seen for years.  She wants to start over; be needed by a child again.  Have the family she reveled in.  Not hear the silence when she walks in her door.  I feel for her.  I know how difficult it can be to want to take steps backwards and not forwards.  To be back in that time when Ollie was young and I was the most important thing on the earth to him.  I remember subbing in his Kindergarten classroom, and he couldn't stop holding my hand throughout the afternoon and calling me "MOM" in a voice that told every other kid in there, that I was HIS mom and only their sub!  There was another time when he went to a sleep-away church camp (at which I cussed when I found out he forgot his Bible, then cussed again after I cussed...it was obvious the leaders felt Ollie really needed them, growing up with a mom like me!) to spend 4 nights.  This seemed like forever to me but like every mom, decided that having those days to myself would be heaven.  I got a call the morning after his first night...it was Ollie telling me he threw up and I needed to get him.  I raced to the camp with a bucket in tow, and he was really quiet during our drive home.  I plopped him in bed and told him I'd fix some Jello and check on him while he was napping.  About an hour later, he came into the kitchen, with tears streaming down his face.  He said "Mom...I LIED TO YOU!!!  I wasn't sick!!!  I just wanted to be with you!!!"  I laughed and said he never had to lie about wanting to be home!  And we went to the pool and had a great day!

Ollie lives with me now after being on his own for 6 years, and we have fun together, but he's not my boy anymore.  He's his own person with so many centers in his world now.  And that's the way it should be!  Of course!  But like Maggie, I wish I could rewind and do it all over again, and savor those moments even more.  Why does growing up happen so fast? 

In another part of the book, Maggie is trying desperately to get her son and his ex-wife back together so she can be with her grandchild.  The problem is, their relationship was horrible from the start, although Maggie can't seem to accept that.  Or even see it.   Her son was just too immature and self-centered to be a good husband, and her daughter-in-law was too demanding and childish.  One of my favorite quotes from the book is Ira talking about Maggie to their son: 

"She believes it's all right to alter peoples lives.  She thinks the people she loves are better than they really are, and so then she starts changing things around to suit her view of them".  ~ Anne Tyler

I had to listen, and then finally read, that quote so many times because it resonated in me.  Is that what I do?  Particularly in relationships?  I'm thinking yes.  

I had my weekly counseling appointment today and I love my counselor.  She is someone I really click with and I'm surprised by how much I'm able to share and how vulnerable I allow myself to be with her.  We were talking about my last relationship, and I told her I was still reaching out to him because I wanted to save him.  From himself.  He's the one with PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) who really hurt me so many times during our 3 years together.  He told me how he had given up on things; how he is just going to be alone and miserable for the rest of his life.  And I tell him how wasteful that would be.  You see, he's living DOWN to his diagnosis of BPD, as if having this is a death sentence.  A slow death sentence.  I told him how a diagnosis needs to be used for understanding, and how you learn to recognize what the disorder or a mental illness is doing, and find constructive ways to cope.  It's not a death sentence.  The diagnosis should be a map.  

My counselor asked me why I had such a need to show this to him, particularly since he really doesn't listen to what I'm saying.  I told her because I felt guilty.  Ashamed.  Like I didn't do enough to help him during our years together.  Didn't have the right words to say.  Wasn't enough for him to want to work on his issues.  Like I was to blame for when he lashed out, because I was the one that triggered it.  She looked at me and said this:  "But Kristi, he has Borderline.  That's what they do when they don't get help or try to learn how to cope.  That's who they allow themselves to become."  

I don't know what it was, but I felt a relief after those words were spoken.  A weight dropped.  It wasn't my fault that he kept abandoning me.  That he put his hands on me.  That he cheated on me.  That he told me he left this last time because of what I said.  It was the disorder.  The fucking disorder.  I tried for so long to not see him as having these issues...I wanted him to always be the great guy who put me on a pedestal and made me feel I was the center of his world.  But I wasn't.  As much as I want to rearrange things and make them right...good...to suit how I want them to be...who I want him to be, I can't.  And he didn't do these things out of maliciousness.  Or because of something I did.  It was because of an un-diagnosed disorder.  I still want to help him .  But NOT out of guilt now.  But out of compassion and love.  My counselor said the words I guess I needed to hear about a lot of things:  "It's not your fault."

This is my favorite scene in Good Will Hunting.  

I think a lot of us need to hear the words: "It's Not Your Fault".  

And I think Robin Williams does it better than anyone.

And I realized something else.  I don't need to be the center of someone's life to be important.  Needed.  Worthy.  I'm a center already.  My center.  My Florida trip showed me this.  That I can be enough for me.  That I can have a life with me.  I don't need to rearrange people to make them something they aren't just to have them.  I don't need to pretend they, or me, are something we're not. 

It was a pretty cool thing to discover all of this.  That I'm not always to blame for things.  That I can't make people take my help unless they want too.  That I don't have to be driven by guilt anymore.  That I can make mistakes and I'm still a pretty OK person.  That I don't have to have everyone's acceptance.  That I can give myself the validation I need.  That I don't need to take steps backwards; because moving forward is journey enough.

I'd say, all in all, that Florida was really good for me.  

Even despite being burnt. ;)

Kristi xoxo

When to Tell?

So, I have a bit of a 'date' today.  I've been chatting with this guy I met online and we're meeting for a snack and drink at a downtown eatery this afternoon.  I'm not sure what I feel about it...this dating thing is still so new to me!

After my 3 divorces (!), I subsequently married each man I saw afterwards.  There was really no 'dating' around!  And, my life was different then.  Or at least it felt different.  I hadn't been diagnosed bipolar yet, and was still very much pretending in my day to day life.  Obviously, the bipolar affected my relationships, but I think it was because I didn't have that 'label' yet, I still had more confidence in what I brought to table with these men than I do now.  Hmmmm...I wonder if others feel like this?  Once that label is stuck on, all of a sudden you see yourself differently?  As a bit more less than?

I need to be better at doing this.  I'm adding this to my 'goals' of the year.

Anyhoo, after hubby 3 (Ron) and I divorced, I was involved with a man for 3 years.  VERY bad at the start with a lot of abusive behaviors, cheating and abandonment happening; better the 2nd year but still with issues; and much better the 3rd year.  Better enough I thought we were in a place that was strong enough, and moving ahead well enough, I could take some time for myself to get me back to where I needed me to be.  This didn't set well with him though, and last Oct., I walked in on him (naked!) with another woman in what was supposed to be 'our' apartment, just like my house was 'our' house as well.  (I also think there was someone else there, but I guess that's not the point.  THEY didn't come out of his bedroom screaming at me to leave!  All while using the furniture I provided for US!  DRAMA!!!!).

We haven't 'talked' since then...he refused (es) to speak to me on the phone and blocked me from everything except e-mail.  So, when I needed to communicate with him regarding my things and all, it was only through this means.  (Why is it that the person who has cheated, is the one who acts like the victim?  Am I the 'bad' guy?  For walking in?  For not realizing what he was feeling?  For not doing enough?  As an empath whose feelings run VERY deep, which is common in bipolar, I blame myself for most things anyway).

Not long ago, he e-mailed that he had been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).  I had always known there was something wrong.  We knew he had PTSD from his 3 deployments in the Middle East (and this is why I forgave him so much and took him back so many times...he was traumatized from his time in the Army.  I understood this).  During that first year, I thought he had Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), but the BPD really does make more sense in terms of his patterns in relationships (not just ours).  He wanted me to know this to explain himself in terms of how he acted and what he did in our relationship.  And I did appreciate this.  It gives me much more understanding of everything that happened.  (And yes, I still have feelings for him.  Feelings run deep in me.  He's the one who lost feelings for me.)

ANYHOO...here's the thing:  I saw us as BOTH "damaged".  BOTH mentally ill.  I didn't have to pretend in front of him.  He understood, or I thought he understood, my illness as well as I tried to understand his.  It was kind of like we were 'matched' in terms of these 'bad' disorders.

I did date a lawyer for a month or so around Christmas, and at first it was going really well.  I thought this might be something lasting.  Then, we had our first argument and he was just mean!  Not mentally ill.  Just mean!!

So now I'm meeting this guy today.  And here's what I struggle with and really think about:  what man would want to take on this woman with bipolar?  AND, when do you tell them you have this?  Obviously, not on a first date!  I'm not that open!!  BUT, not after a dozen either.  And, since I am really open about it...on Facebook, here, Tedx Talk, etc., someone could dig a bit on me and find out for themselves.  Then what?  Hmmmm...

That's a fine line when you think about it.  You want to be candid in sharing who you are, but you also want them to get to know you as a person, before the issue of a mental illness is brought forth.

Why is it that if I had diabetes, this wouldn't be an issue at all?  But with mental health, it's like a shame you have to hide until the time is 'just right'!  Like you have to figure out when to drop this 'bombshell!'  Because that's what it is:  a bombshell that could break anything you might have built to that point.

When this DOESN'T happen, that's when we'll know the stigma against mental health has been shattered.

I'm not ashamed to have this illness.  It's just what I have.  But I guess I am ashamed of how others see it.  Crazy.  Unstable.  Nuts.  Bipolar has a bad rap.  And I understand why.  It's a toughie.  One that is going to cause issues at times, but that doesn't mean it has to define the relationship as a whole.

I'm going to tread lightly with this.  If I like this guy (and I don't know...I'm really not that excited for this.  I'm more dreading it than anything but like my son says, if you don't want to be alone forever, you have to get out there) I guess I'll just have to use my own judgement on when to tell him.

And maybe, I need to think about how I see myself.  I use the word damaged.  But is that fair to me? Does that mean I see others with mental illness as being damaged?  (Actually, I don't.  Just me!) It's true that my brain is actually "damaged" in that it doesn't work like other brains.  Hello?  Mental illness!  But am I less than because of that?  I FEEL like that.  But is it actually TRUE?  I don't know.

Kristi xoxo