30 Days of Thanks: Day 4

I am very thankful for my husband. He is my rock, my friend, my soulmate. He puts up with my moods, my episodes, my bad habits. He cooks, he cleans, he does dishes and takes out the kitty litter. He carries the chores when I can’t do them, and often just beats me to it.

We haven’t always been this close, and we haven’t always gotten along. We came near to divorce once. But as we both learned more about my illness, my triggers, and the reasons behind specific behaviors, we grew closer. I think we have gotten a lot closer just over the last year, when I have finally started getting proper treatment for my various psychological illnesses (bipolar, OCD, etc.). He started taking cooking more seriously when I was diagnosed diabetic two years ago.

Some days, I think I couldn’t possibly live without him, that I wouldn’t have the strength to go on if something were to happen. I depend on my husband so much, maybe too much, and I worry about him whenever he goes somewhere without me. I love him with all my heart, and I feel thankful to have him every single day of my life. (Yes, even when he ticks me off.)

I would love to be more eloquent in this post, but I’m afraid I’m at a loss for words.  My heart is full of love and thanks – that’s all I have to say.

 
© Manic Monday (manicmonday123) 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Simmer

I feel as though I am walking on the edge of a knife. My temper is short, but I am containing it, keeping it under a false smile. Simmering, I can feel the rage building in my head, waiting for an outlet. The right trigger at the wrong time. Dsyphoric mania here I come. Clenching my fists, squeezing my eyes shut tight, biting my lip, counting to ten. Keep the lid on the pot, now is not the time. Never is the time, but right now is really not the time.

I’m supposed to go back to work this week. I have to be in control. I can’t get a straight answer from anyone – who is supposed to tell me when I can go back? If I can go back? Why can’t I work up the courage to call a lawyer? I can do a lot of things now. It’s time. I hate to admit it, but it’s time. I hate working; I hate not working. I hate having everything up in the air. The penny has to fall.

To make matters worse, my husband is sick. We don’t know why or how. It started two weeks ago – nausea & other digestive issues along with pain. Pain where your vital organs are. The gallbladder is already gone so what’s left? Not good. Scary. Doc gave Aciphex but it’s not fixing the problem. He’s in pain and he’s constantly exhausted and I don’t know how to help him. He won’t let me take him to the ER. I can’t lose my husband. I won’t survive. I can’t. He is the other half of me. The only one who can put up with my crazy moods, who supports me no matter what, who knows how to make me laugh and how to calm me down. I’m so dependent on him, sometimes I can’t even make simple decisions on my own.

All of this is building. Time is ticking. I am trapped within my own mind. Building, building, building. I can’t do what I need to do because I am constantly on edge. This razor-sharp knife edge. Keep the lid on. Hold on tight. This will not be a fun ride.


© Manic Monday (manicmonday123) 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.