Another One of Those First World Problems

I feel complaining about insignificant things and labeling them “FWP” exonerates me from being a whiny spoiled person living in the best place in the world.  I’m also a jaded ex-catholic, so there is already a layer of guilt underneath everything I say and do.  

I want to post this for another reason.  With the hell I’ve been going through for the past year from medication side effects, divorce, being ostracized by my children and doing all of this in a delicate mental condition, I welcome superficial trivial problems. 

Here is one now:

Well, so far this is a very good day! I colored my hair this week from an online hair color boasting it is just like the professional color. I don’t know why I bother. The brown of my hair turned out beautifully but the white came out a light brownish reddish. Anyway……I used the last of my root concealer two days ago (forgot all about covering my roots on Tuesday and was out doing errands for four hours). Luckily I wasn’t aware so had all of the confidence of a good looking person. Back to my roots (pardon the pun) I was even debating wearing one of Allison’s hats to hit the Walgreens early before too many people were there to get a new can of concealer. In the bathroom I took one more last ditch effort, fingers crossed, to look in the bathroom closet.  There it was buried under cold medicine…..half a can!!!  Halejuha!

Dear Life:  please keep bringing on those kind of problems.  I really need a break.  xoxo

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Abused Patience Turns to Fury

So much anger.

I was feeling pretty strong against the ex-husband and his girlfriend yesterday morning.

He is trying to pass her off as his roommate.  No one knows what I know about how they were sleeping together a full 6 months before I asked for the divorce.  Even the children seem to have been fooled.  I can’t say anything to anyone because when it is all said and done I’m taking the high road as usual (not willingly believe me).  I Looking back at how outrageously (even for him) his behavior was during that time I believe I was manipulated (AGAIN) into asking for the divorce.

So I checked Facebook to see if I was truly able to handle it.

He was on her page with a selfie of themselves.  Under the comments was a comment from my mother in law saying “Just a couple of kids!”

I was so angry, hurt and other things I can’t even name that I went into a horrible spiral of depression and anxiety.  It was a pretty dark day.

I got up this morning and felt much better.  I tested the memory of yesterday to see if they still held their sting and they did.  Good news for me is not as painful. Then it dawned on me that checking Facebook was in essence breaking the No Contact rule!  That is the real key to recovery and now I have to start all over again! I had 4 whole weeks under my belt.

I’ve been doing EMDR for a whole host of things in the last few months.  When this woman moved into my old house with him I had to see my therapist twice a week for two weeks.  I have sooooo much more work to do.

I hate him.  I hate them.  I haven’t really been able to enjoy any of my freedom from him because he’s still getting to me but on a higher and different level.  When will this get better?  When can I finally feel better?

Its just like you when you try every trick in the book to lose weight and it always comes back to diet and exercise. Time heals all wounds.

Blocking all of them and taking the Facebook app of my phone is a good measure as well.

Beware of him that is slow to anger; for when it is long coming, it is the stronger when comes, and the longer kept. Abused patience turns to fury.

Francis Quarles

This is Going to be a Long One

So much has happened since my divorce was final I am going to start at the end and do sort of a flash back thing until I lose track of which order everything came in.  Please follow along…

The elation and anticipation of being off for the summer was thwarted because I had to ween myself off Pristiq. Withdrawal symptoms have been complete exhaustion, not eating, and brain zaps to name a few.

I planned this withdrawal very carefully.  Two years ago, I stopped taking Abilify because of twitching in my legs.  Two weeks later I fell into a deep depression.  I was put on Seroquel.  Two weeks later, another depression because the dosage wasn’t high enough.

One of the things I am terrible at is judging my state of mind.  I think it goes back to 43 years of coping with my moods alone.  I had to mask them from others and myself.  Not recognizing my last decent into into hell, my therapist and I came up with a 10 point question sheet to ask myself if I’m feeling different.  It makes me feel more secure.

I spoke to Tristan about needing his help if I go into a depression.  I spoke to Allison and told her if this happened she should call Tristan if I couldn’t.

After two weeks of careful planning the withdrawal and doing everything I’m supposed to do I took a dive.  It was more like a crash and burn; I don’t even remember the dive.

Getting Tristan’s help was more stress that help so I called the only sane person I know, my sister.  I started to cry and she said to call my psychiatrist.  I did and he called me back very quickly. My sister had called his office and said it was an emergency.  My Dr asked if I was suicidal because my sister had threatened to call an ambulance. Total overreaction.  Just writing this out makes me feel humiliated.  And I was and am.  What do they say about best laid plans?

The reason I had to stop taking Pristiq is because it was causing “Serotonin Syndrome”.  I had all the classic signs especially the hypo-mania.  I used to look forward to this little gem in my non-medicated un-diagnosed life.  Now it really sucks.  No pleasure from it, just agitation, irritability, poor sleep and all the other bad traits.

I wrote most of this blog the day after the crash.  I must have lost my concentration at the end because I had begun writing in a “stream of consciousness” style.

I wrote about how nobody understands, how I can’t trust anyone to be there, why am I even trying so hard, what is there to live for……

I know that is how I truly felt.  It’s not true today.

It’s just me and Allison now.  I am alone to take care of me.  I have always taken care of Allison on my own, but I’ve always had help for me.

I’m going down another half dose this week, I’ll be brave.

Fascinating

It’s been about 6 weeks since I’ve been free from the tyranny that was John, my husband, now my ex-husband.

I can remember when I became a wife and he became my husband what a kick I got out of saying, “I’ll ask my husband” or “My husband likes that”.  Now I get the same kind of wonder and thrill when I say my ex-husband.  It didn’t take me long at all to stop tripping up and saying “my husband” and having to correct myself “I mean, my ex-husband”.  I know whoever I’m talking to doesn’t care either way, but it is important to me to be clear for my own sake.  I keep expecting to break down into tears when I realize finally that it’s over.  That hasn’t happened in fact I just keep getting happier and more peaceful as each day goes by.

Tonight, he called and said he was coming by with some things I left behind and to give Allison her birthday card.  I said okay and immediately began to try on clothes that make me look thin and young.  Of course, I don’t have any sort of magical clothing that does that, so I settled with a long t-shirt and skinny jeans.  Put my hair up, let it down, put it back up again.  Thought about makeup, decided against it, I mean it was 8pm, makeup wasn’t going to improve me enough to be worth it.

The last time I had seen him was the day I moved and he stood in the doorway of his house and said I couldn’t come in ever again.

This time, at my house, I invited him in and let him look at the kitchen and the living room.  He seemed normal, the way he would treat anyone else.    We chatted a bit the way we always have and then he left.

No rush of emotions either way.

Fascinating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What an amazing concept..”No Contact”

days with no contact.  I just realized that tonight and had to tell someone!

I’m in my wonderful new condo with Allison. I’m on the road to recovery.

I’ve had enough time to recover from last weekend’s move where John was drunk and wouldn’t let me back in “his” house to retrieve my clothes.  I had left them until last so I could take them in my car.  Talk about “don’t let the door hit you on the way out” it did.

I had been using the phrase “kicked me out” when describing the situation to my sister.

She said, “Stop saying that!  You have a place to go, he “wouldn’t let you back in”.  “Kicked you out” makes you sound weak and not in control, but you are in control, you have a place to go. ”

No Contact.  The most intelligent piece of advice to a give to a victim trying to get out of a narcissistic abusive relationship.

Here is my list of the amazing things I’ve managed to accomplish without him undermining my every move:

I got a mortgage by myself.  He always made it sound impossible.

I found an amazing condo by myself.

I organized the move even though he said the U Haul wasn’t big enough (it was)!

Don’t forget the fact that after trying three times in the last 27 years, I managed to divorce him even though the experience has been worse than imagined.  He sent me to the bottom of the pit and clawed my way back out.

I’ve decided my new birthday is March 4th, 2017!

Narcissist Until the End

I have been trying to leave John on and off for about the 27 years we’ve been together.  It has been an unhealthy codependent relationship since I was 23.  He loves me, he hates me, he loves me again.  He’s nice, he’s mean, he’s nice to me again.  It was constant cycle.  And then throw in my Bipolar II four-day cycle, what a nightmare it was to live like that.

Wednesday the day I have been trying for arrived.  I am officially divorced from John!

At first I was elated and bouncing around at the news because I had needed the signed decree to close on a condo I am buying.  I was cutting it really close, the closing is this Tuesday.  That’s all I had been concentrating on for 3 weeks

“That means we are divorced,” I said, “we’ve been together for 27 years and now it’s over.” Without wanting to I began to get a bit misty.

“Do you want a hug?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t give me a hug when my mom died and now you want to give me one, “I asked, “it’s too late for that.”

My tears dried before they hit my cheeks.  Thank you, John, for reminding me so quickly and so clearly why I didn’t give in this time.

 

That Was Then….

That was then, this is now.

Stinging Tears   Crushed  Love to Hatred Turned  Another Horrible Crazy Christmas

It’s been a hard road, 27 years.

I made it through and out the other end, battered and bruised, but out.

Tonight I feel calm, peace, happiness, relief and maybe a little joy.

To be continued…….