My Mental Fuckery Blog:
Marriage can be hard enough for “normal” people, but when a spouse has mental fuckery’s hangin out with them, it’s fuck’n tough. This is my first marriage and his second, and I have a feeling this marriage is harder than his first. Well after the “honeymoon” phase we and every new couple go through. My husband is a good man, and one that you can only find once in a life time. I mean sure he can frustrate the hell outta me, and then I think to myself, that’s nothing compared to what my mental fuckery’s are doing to him. Ever since I unlocked the depression and didn’t hide it anymore, got diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder with severe anxiety disorder, things changed. And than there came the meds, and a lot of them. He was worried that the drugs would some how effect my whole personality, and I assured him they wouldn’t………….well I fucked up on that statement. The drugs have made me a bit different, I can feel it. Sometimes better and sometimes worse. My libido has gone down the fuck’n drain…….and who the fuck knows where that drain took my libido. I know it’s killing my husband inside about what we are dealing with. Most married couples argue about bills, leaving caps off the toothpaste, not putting the toilet seat down after taking a piss (somehow they always manage to get some piss on the rim of the toilet seat when they have a large enough hole to not miss, even when they are shaking their wankers), house cleaning, etc… We have never argued about any of that. We share duties as best as we can, but the one duty that is probably the one HUGE downfall that we have is my mental fuckery communication. Even prior to this diagnosis I sucked at communicating, but it’s worse now. He tries to talk to me about things, but I just raise my hand silently (and sometimes not so silent) to tell him I don’t want to talk about it. He’s the toucher and I’m the pusher. And what I mean by that is that he is very lovey dovey (who came up with that fuck’n line “lovey dovey” anyway?), and I’m the one that is completely the opposite. He loves to cuddle and kiss, and I shoo him away like he’s some kind of virus that is going to attack my system. What kind of shit is that? But keep in mind I have pretty much always been that way. I suppose growing up in a non-affectionate house can do it’s damage in the long run. He’s doing everything he can to understand this mental fuckery shit, and I truly applaud him for that. He even made a phone call about these meetings they have for spouses living with someone with Bipolar or any mental illness. I have yet to dial that number to go to meetings myself. Gotta love that fuck’n telephobia I have (fuck’n rattles my teacups too much, too much thinkin about that then this than 4 more things and 18 more things).
I’m a bit worried, okay A LOT worried this shit is either going to break us or make us stronger in some kind of way. I sometimes think he’s better off without me and all this chemical fuck’n imbalances I go through. I’m pushing him away to the point that at some moment he’s gonna let go. And I honestly wouldn’t blame him. I do love him deeply, I just have a very hard time showing it.
As for how I’m doing with my illness………well I suppose the drugs are doning their thing……..like clogging my drain to the point of giving myself an enema last night. I know, to much info……..deal with it………y’all know my mouth is unfiltered on here. But shit (no pun intended), I was having horrible abdominal cramps last night and pretty much intermittenly through the night. Had to call out of work this morning due to that, and well, how depressed I was and am. At least I brought a flashlight with me for all the darkness that depression can bring me.
On a brighter note (due to my flashlight of course……..keep up with me people), my husband (James)……..(why haven’t I just used his fuck’n name to begin with?)…………..anyway, me and James got a membership at a fitness center and even have a trainer that will work with us once a week and then give us some fucked up exercise shit to try and kill us. Well I’m obviously still alive, and doing this together helps the both of us stay motivated.
I got a new tattoo last week (1/29/15) and fuck’n love it. It’s a reminder that through all this bullshit and fucked up brain chemistry that does horrible things to me, my story isn’t over yet. As debilitating as this Bipolar shit can be, I will keep up the battle as best that I can.
To all you fucked up people with mental fuckery’s like me……….WE ARE NOT ALONE!!
Toodles ((peace sign))