Wee Hours of the Morning

I woke up at 4 this morning to the rain outside and had an epiphany. I have become a fearful, negative, and down-trodden woman. My children...bless their hearts...are constantly criticizing me and I have internalized it all. And I'm tired of it. I've let them dictate and belittle and I've paid for it. I'll have a facebook page if I want it and Twitter if I feel like it. This is shameful and embarrassing but important. I am not at a good place and intend to change it. So how?

I just yelled at the dog. This is not good. I need a support group. I have good friends but none of them would believe my children are in any way at fault. But, then again, the fault is mine. I take it and swallow it. I ask for their input and opinions and they criticize me. I've always felt I was impervious to the put-downs but it seems I'm not because my self-esteem is at an all-time low.

So how do I change? I can take stock of my assets and accomplishments. I can review my list of things I love. I can make some decisions for myself. I can join Facebook and Twitter and the children's opinions be damned. I'd be criticized for writing this blog. No body reads this blog anyway. But I just want to "put it out there." I'm making a change...taking a stand. And writing this blog is the first step...

A New Title and a New Start

I'm still bipolar and being bipolar is still a large lens through which to view my life but I don't want it to dominate my life. There's so much more to me than that. There's my children whom I am still supporting and launching. There are my gazillion pets...two dogs, three cats, and a rabbit. There's my art (see it at www.catherinesartwork.com ) and my slowly developing book. But even beyond that, people with bipolar disorder are not crazy, or violent. At least the one's I've known aren't. I'm not.

So, I'm starting over emphasizing the non-bipolar aspects of my life...such as they are. I have one fear though...that I will find out that I'm boring. I have been emailing two men on Plenty of Fish and both were sending long emails. Then we talked on the phone. Now the emails are two lines long. Was it something I said? didn't say? who knows.

When I sit on the sofa facing my netbook, I often pause to reread what I've written or just to think. Invariably, Boycat, our 13 year old gray tortoise shell cat places his head just under my hands. He's very touch oriented. In the middle of the night he'll appear by my head and gently touch my cheek to wake me ...to pet him. That's all he wants...to be touched. I felt that way yesterday, waiting with my son for him to have a cardiac MRI. I placed my elbow uncomfortably on the arm rest just to be touching elbows with my son. He was warm and didn't move his arm. The MRI was not dangerous but any procedure involving his heart scares me. We don't know the results of the MRI yet. I'm praying that we find that he had an episode last year, will never have another one, and there's nothing we have to do. I'm a coward. For someone who's afraid all the time, I sure do fear fear.

Today we are packing my daughter and Sunday we are driving her back to school. This is a heart wrenching ...and back wrenching ritual that is part of the launching process. The first year, I made all the lists and did all the packing and staging. This year...her senior year...she's doing it all. I'm just loading and driving. My daughter has CP and doesn't drive. Launching is a challenge for her. I'm doing what I can to help.

Well, son and daughter are home with ethernet cable for school and propane tank for the farewell cookout tomorrow. Boycat says good bye for now. We'll be back.