relationships – Page 6 – It’s All in Your Head

Don’t Fence me In.

green leaf on gray wooden fence — Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

So, my counselor and I had an excellent conversation today, and I really look forward to seeing her every week! Yea!

Anyhoo…we are talking about relationships, because as you know from my last post, me and relationships just don’t get along too well. Let’s put it this way: I have a 100% fail rate for them! ‘Nuff said.

As we were talking about the ‘why’ behind all of my relationships ending, I began to see so many of my problems lie in the fact that my boundaries are pretty poor. In fact, if my boundaries were a fence, even a chihuahua could escape. Easily. Having bad boundaries makes it very easy for people to get in. And for me to get out.

One of the many ‘wonderful’ characteristics of being bipolar is impulsiveness. And I’m not talking impulsive as in buying a new shirt I don’t really need. I’m talking about impulsiveness throughout every area of my life, including relationships.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve never done things half way. I do them the entire way, and then some, or I don’t do them at all. When I was 30-something, I was still carrying around baby weight (from a 65 pound gain…I couldn’t eat just one Oreo when I was preggers, I had to eat the whole damn sleeve) and wanted to lose it. I called my dad who had been a runner since I could remember, and we met at a track. I couldn’t finish an 1/8th of a mile, so I did what any rational person would do. I signed up for a marathon. When I started acrylic pour painting, it wasn’t enough to create a canvas or 2. I had to buy every painting supply known to man…fix up a studio in my basement…and make so many canvases that I’ll be giving them out as Christmas gifts long after I’m in a nursing home. See what I mean?

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I do the same thing in relationships. I jump in…without looking…without thinking…without considering the consequences of what that jump could do to me. Once I’m in, I’m in. I fall too quickly. I love too hard. I give too much. I want even more. And the problem is this: once I get outside that boundary which should be in place to protect me, I’m VERY hesitant to get back behind the little fence there is. After all, freedom is better! Take my Edward. He’s such a good dog, but if I’m taking out the trash, and leave the gate open, he’ll take off and never look back. I can tempt him with every known treat, and he’ll still value that freedom more than the safety of home. Even though it’s dangerous! Even though it’s unknown! Even though something could happen to him that could cause great injury! For some reason, being outside of a gate is so much more fun than being inside it.

Like Eddie, I want that gate open, especially in relationships! The simple fact is, I love love. I hope you read that correctly…let me try it again: I LOVE love. 🙂 I love falling in lust…building up love…getting to know someone…unlocking the secrets of someone…cuddling with someone…knowing I have someone in this world just for me. Little old me. OK, little OLD me.

It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? That first tug of the heart. The first kiss you share when your heart is beating so hard you wonder if it will ever be the same again. But like anything intoxicating, it can be so dangerous too. 1ce81319ae2fb2a691e22822a6618feb

We learn to ‘feed’ off the impulsiveness. It becomes almost addicting. It becomes something to us that puts us in a tunnel. And then all we can see is that tunnel and the person in it with us. We can’t see the dangers associated with it, just like a drug addict might not see the consequences of their use. Our rational mind has been blinded, and our impulsive, emotional side has taken control; face it, it’s MUCH more exciting to listen to our hearts than to our heads.

Hence, people like me put up with a lot of things they shouldn’t. After all, we slid ourselves into this tunnel, we’d better learn to like it; we ran outside the gate, we’d better take advantage of it. So we’ll let people say horrible things to us without calling them on it. We’ll let them use us: financially, emotionally, and sexually, because saying no to them, trying to build up another fence while we’re out wandering around, is just too damn hard to do. And anyway, whose got the time or tools for that? We’ll let them cheat on us, with no consequence other than making them ‘promise’ they’ll never do it again. We’ll let them put their hands on us, when we swore to ourselves that would never ever ever happen.

But after a while, you do get tired of this. Tired of being in such a dark place. Tired of exhausting yourself justifying to others your objection to leaving. Tired of having a hollowness inside of you that nothing outside the safety of a fence will quench now. Tired of looking in the mirror…and then looking away…because you don’t want to see, or acknowledge, the pain you can no longer hide in your eyes. Tired of feeling less than. Tired of feeling like a thing, instead of a person. Tired of not being ‘you’ anymore. You are just so fucking tired.

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Since my last relationship ended, I have come to understand that the safety of a fence is actually so much more comfortable and satisfying than running around without a leash. I finally have gathered some tools now. I finally have time now. I have the know-how to build my fences, and keep them in repair. I have the want to protect this person I’m getting to know better and better each day. A person I’m actually starting to like. Maybe loving myself is right around the corner. Maybe I’m the ‘one’ I’ve been waiting for all my life.

I guess I’ve just come to the realization that I’m worth taking care of. And if that’s not motivation to get busy nailing these boards together, I don’t know what is.

Kristi xoxo

Learning to Chill.

So, I’m in my 2nd week of working from home. Last week, I moved all of my on-campus classes to an online learning format, and this week, I’m starting to interact within my classes, while getting my students acclimated to this new way of doing things.

First, I know some people are complaining greatly at having to social distance, and that’s understandable. It’s boring. Inconvenient. Tedious. But, I just have to remember that it’s keeping me, and my family, away from the virus as much as possible. And so importantly, that the healthcare workers on the front line…the business owners who have had to shutter their operation…the people that have been laid off indefinitely…those are the ones truly making sacrifices. Some that will last the rest of their lives. How sad that is…and how thankful I am to only have to stay home and teach online. I’m blessed.

Having said that, I’m not good with inactivity. Being bipolar, I’m used to UPS and DOWNS. And to be honest, there’s not much in-between for me. Actually, just not in terms of mood, but for everything. I either love a food or hate it (beets and iced tea come to mind). Want to watch a movie 100 times (Rocketman!!), or turn it off after the first 10 minutes. Decide to buy that shirt the minute I see it, or pass it by with a small ‘blech’.

So activity is the same way. If I get up and started, I can do so much and feel mega-productive. But, if I allow myself to laze around a bit, I feel even more lazy and then guilty about being lazy and then feeling guilty about feeling guilty about being lazy. Yes, it’s a circular trap I find myself in, and it perpetuates itself like rabbits.

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What is ‘lazy’ exactly? And why does it have such a bad connotation in our society? It doesn’t matter what word you use to describe it (idle, sluggish, slow, etc.), being lazy goes against what we are told to do: and that’s to get things done! Multitasking is the new way we need to go about our days! Right?? If we aren’t doing at least 2 or 3 things at once, we’re not doing enough; we’re just couch potatoes. Loafers. A lazy-bones. And look on Facebook. People try to ‘out task’ others by listing all they did that day. “I got my house re-plastered and painted by 6:00 a.m. And now I’m getting ready to run a quick half-marathon before finishing the book I’m writing.” “Oh yeah? Well, I did all of that as well, except I ran a full marathon, the book I’m finishing is a tome, and I did 23 loads of laundry too. But whatever.” Sheesh. When did it become a status symbol to knock ourselves out so much?

I’m learning that lazy isn’t a bad thing after all. Being slow is OK. Idle. I’m tired of tiring myself out all of the time! I’ve been working since I was 16 years old, and have tired myself out for the great majority of my life. I cut the grass more times than necessary. I vacuumed the living room even when it didn’t need it. There were only a few dishes in the sink, but by golly, I did them, because God forbid they wait until more are added.

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And what did that get me? Not the martyrdom I wanted. It got me nothing. Well, nothing beyond being able to say “Look what I did today. See…I’m not lazy!” Does anybody remember what my backyard looked like in 2006? Or that my rugs were extra fluffy a few years ago? Or that my dishes still had a bit of yolk on them last week? Probably not.

I think I know where this came from. My self-esteem has never been great; as I’ve mentioned, I was always different from other kids and making friends was really hard. So, I started to believe that to fit in or make friends, I had to DO SOMETHING in order to show my worth. It wasn’t enough just being me. I had to GIVE. Sometimes it was an over-abundance of time I gave. Or presents. Or money. Or energy into proving “LOOK AT ME!! I DID ALL OF THIS FOR YOU!! NOW DO YOU SEE HOW AWESOME I AM?”

The problem with this is you start to understand it’s never enough. And you start to feel resentful of the fact YOU feel you have to give. But where is that resentment directed? Towards the people YOU feel you have to give too. So unfair to them.

My mother-in-law from Hubby #2 (my son’s dad) was perfect. Martha Stewart perfect. So busy…productive…self-sacrificing along with being a perfect gardener, cook, parent, and believe me, the list goes on. She’s an amazing woman and I love her so much still, but she was a hard act to follow. Especially since we lived right next door to her and her accomplishments were seen everyday. To feel worthy of hubby, I felt I had to keep up. Do just as much, if not more, to show I was ‘just as good.’ Or even just plain old good. I’d be exhausted by the end of the day, and not feel any sense of accomplishment. Just wondering if I did enough and being frazzled about what the next day would bring.

In my last relationship, I knew something was wrong from the start. I have great intuition and usually trust it. However, my heart just happens to be so much stronger, and it often prevails in romance. Because he was still in love with his ex, and was still in touch with her regularly (although I was told I was paranoid when I’d ask him about it), I truly believed that if I did enough…gave enough…proved myself enough, it would be the catalyst for him to love me instead. So I did. I gave all I had.

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Literally. All of my energy and time and emotion and forgiveness and money and gifts and home and everything else you can think of. And you can see where that got me; after all, I’m writing this as a single woman. When we broke up (well, when I walked in on him with another woman…I guess that could be considered a break-up), I reminded him of all I did give him. I fancied the idea that if he remembered all of my sacrifices, he’d realize my value. He didn’t. It was all for naught.

Now I’m trying really hard to work on understanding my value comes from me; from just being me. Not from what I give or what I do. But for who I am with the person…what I feel for them…what they feel for me. I don’t have to ‘buy’ my worth; dammit, I’m worthy as I am.

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So I’m learning that it’s OK to be ‘lazy.’ To read on the couch for hours and get lost in a book. To cuddle with my pooches and nap with my arms around them. To putz around in my sewing room and take my time making something; not just to get it done and checked off a list, but to enjoy the process of cutting and sewing and creating with the fabric. To scroll through Facebook and see my past students show off their new baby. I think these things are more meaningful and more memorable than making sure my check-list is a tad longer than yours.

And with relationships? Yes, of course I’m still going to give (when my Prince Charming arrives). But I’m going to give of ‘me’…of who I am. I’m not going to work and work and work so he can say: “Wow…I need Kristi because she does this and gives me all of that.” I want him to say: “Wow…I love Kristi for the woman she simply is.”

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard those words before.

Kristi xoxo

Living with Me.

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So, my son lives with now. He’s 26 years old and is a professional photographer (who, by the way, is freaking amazing!) and needs to put his money into his equipment which means living on his own isn’t possible right now. Previously, he lived in Texas for 3 years, and even though I went down to see him a few times a year, it wasn’t the same as having him close by. Having him here right now is special to me…it’s like we’re catching up on lost time.

But. And there’s always a ‘but’, isn’t there? We are 2 adults, with very different personalities, who are sharing a house, kitchen, shower, food, etc. and there’s bound to be difficulties.

I know I’m not easy to live with. Sometimes I hate living with myself! Having bipolar means I’m very unpredictable. I don’t care how ‘stable’ one is with this illness, there is still ups and downs, and I’m sure it’s very hard for my son to know what ‘ma’ he’s dealing with day to day. There are days I’m laughing. There are days I’m crying. There are days when I’m so tired or crazed or impulsive that figuring me out is probably next to impossible. I get that. I really do. And I admire him for being able to adapt to what woman I happen to be that day.

Yet sometimes my son isn’t easy to live with either. He’s a 26 year old young man, who has lived on his own since he was 18. He’s used to his independence and being able to have his home his particular way. He’s also starting a business that requires so much marketing, web site work, along with mastering the use lighting, film development, and editing. In addition to all of this, he’s scared. Scared of taking this chance and making this work. So much is riding on making this business a success.

I’m so proud of him for doing this though! Taking this risk and putting everything he has in it – money, time, energy – is stressful, and I tend to forget that. I forget that this stress affects him, which can make his mood unpredictable as well. Like me, he has great days when things seem to be in place, and hard days when he questions his work and wonders if he’s made the right decision.

Together, we can be awesome! There’s no one I’d rather spend time with and his sense of humor, his ideas, the way we can joke about things is so fun! On the flip side though, we can also be volatile! Two different adults, with different ways of communicating, different ways of dealing with conflict, different ways of seeing the world. When this happens, there are hurtful words exchanged with feelings damaged and tears flowing.

But you know. That’s OK. We can’t grow as adults without resolving these issues. Without using conflict as a way to move forward in our relationship as grown ups. With our contrasting personalities, and my mental illness, conflict is inevitable. But it doesn’t have to pull us apart. Conflict can aid in more understanding of one another, more compassion towards one another’s needs, more depth in our connection. Something I think we both want. And need.

All I know is this: my son is my heart. Truly. Having this time with him, watching him build something that’s uniquely his using a talent I could see in him when he was only a few years old, and experiencing his growth as a man is worth any arguments we might encounter along the way.

Kristi xoxo

A Personal Buffet :)

So, how do we know what we want in a mate? It’s almost an unconscious thing, isn’t it? Like going to a buffet where we look over the food and say, “Oooooooo…yum!” or “Blech!”, without even really thinking about it. Isn’t that true about people as well? You can see someone and think, “Wow…OH YEAH!” or say, “Uh, no!” Either way, our choices are clear even if our reasoning behind them isn’t.

At counseling the other day, A (my therapist) asked me what I wanted in someone since working on relationships is one of our goals. I didn’t have an easy or fast answer for her. But I think it came to me last night.

In my Marriage and Family classes, we talk about mate selection and see that there are many theories out there to try to explain how this works. For example, Siggy talks about how we are more likely to choose a mate much like our opposite sexed parents (this was written in the Victorian era where heterosexual relationships were the only focus) in order to finally resolve the Oedipal and Electra complexes. This is what kids experience around the ages of 3-6 or so, where they really want to possess their same sexed parent, while rejecting the other. Obviously, this causes much family stress, and the kids start to emulate their same sexed parent so they can eventually, as adults, win a mate like the opposite sexed one. PHEW! Sounds crazy, right? BUT…I have to say this: research does show that we are more likely to marry someone more like our parents than not! (This scares my son to death!)

There’s also the Ideal Mate Theory in which we create an image of what we want through early childhood experiences and then seek that person as an adult. Maybe that’s why so many women want their prince to ride on their white horse and swoop them up! And, maybe that’s also why when we meet the one we think is our mate, we say, “I think this is Mr. or Mrs. Right!”

Other theories exist too…like how we pick mates that complement what we need or lack. Or ones that have just enough similarities that we have an instant connection that brings us together.

But these theories don’t take practical things into consideration, things I happen to think are pretty important. Like, how many kids does this person want? What’s their political stance? Their criminal history? How many times have they been divorced? Is their extended family supportive? Do they drink excessively or use drugs? Do they follow your religion? And the list goes on.

However, here’s another wrench with all of this: you would think by now I have a type, and that couldn’t be further from the truth! All 4 of my mates (3 hubbies and 1 partner) couldn’t have been anymore different from each other! Hubby 1 was a metrosexual, well dressed, higher class guy, while Hubby 2 was nerdy and a very hard worker. Hubby 3 was an Outlaw biker (literally) and my last partner was a younger veteran. What a variety; perhaps I should practice polygamy to get everything I want?? 🙂

So, when A talked to me about what I wanted, I knew it was more than what can be explained by the above, but I couldn’t put into words what ‘soul’ (for lack of a better word) I was looking for. And then it hit me last night. Simply stated, I want a man who is just as willing as I am to work and fight for the love we have. That’s it. Just one sentence. But a very powerful one to me.

See, I used to think I was clingy. And to a degree I might be. But maybe that isn’t really what it is though, because I’ve always been financially independent and very capable of doing anything and everything that’s needed around the house, yard, etc. I was the one my spouses would often turn too, instead of the other way around! I was the rock. The fixer. The one who built back up whatever had been broken.

But when I was broken. Or needed something fixed. Or needed a rock, that’s when problems started. The help wasn’t there. The understanding. The support. While I was willing to invest everything into the relationship, they were willing to only invest a bit. So, them pulling out of it didn’t ‘cost’ them as much as it cost me.

Maybe it’s because I’m “extra sensitive” (another wonderful trait of bipolar) that I simply can’t understand this. How people can love you one day, and say the next that they don’t. How you can spend years with someone, building them up, forgiving them for transgressions, supporting them through their pain, but when it’s about you, they turn their back. And then, you’re the one that’s wrong. Wrong for reaching out. For trying. Why do some people think relationships are easy? And when there’s an issue, just drop them, because fixing it might be work? Really? Having problems means there’s no love? No foundation?

I don’t think there’s any relationship that requires more work than that of a parent and child. I remember when Oliver was a little guy…he’d wake me up in the middle of the night, and I’d have to force myself up on 2 hours of sleep after a 14 hour day. When he was around 4, Oliver, who had asthma, got pneumonia. And I did too. But, I had to ignore mine and hold Oliver upright 24 hours a day for 4 days straight, giving him breathing treatments every 2 hours which the poor guy fought. Just me, alone, because his dad had to work at his business. It got to the point where I was so tired, I was in a hazy fog that enveloped me. I didn’t know if I could keep going but then he started to get better and I could nap. And all of this time, I kept thinking that if I didn’t do this, he could literally drown in his sleep. Was that work? OMG, yes!! Did I begrudge him of it?? NO!! Because that’s what parents do. Period.

Why can’t that same commitment be made in terms of mates? Holding the person up. Allowing them to breathe with your help. Making sure they get through the next day? Giving all that you have, and a little more, to make things better.I do that. To a fault actually. And I used to think it was wrong. But is it? Why is it wrong to be the one who won’t let go of the rope when they still believe there’s a danger of the other falling? Why is it bad to say, “I forgive you. Again. Because I love you. Still.”? Someone once told me this was weak. Really? To me, it’s freaking strong. Because like I did with Oliver, you have to dig down, find resources you don’t know you have, and use them to make sure what you love is preserved.

I guess I’m old fashioned, but I think maybe my way, instead of the way relationships are disposed of so easily in our society today, is actually the right one.Once, when I was a teenager, I asked my Grandma what held her and Grandpa together. They were the ONLY couple in my family that had never been divorced and I needed to know why. After all, they were married just a short while before Grandpa served 3 years in the Navy during WWII. I’ll never ever forget what my grandma said when I asked how they made it through all they did: “Because we’re married.” That’s it. That was her answer. And when you think about it, what more needs to be said? They made a commitment. They honored it. They worked at it. They invested in it. Through everything. Period. Maybe I get my ideas about relationships from her. And if so, I think that’s a very good thing.

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