shariew

This one is for me.  Today was an incredibly hard and an emotional day. Twenty three years of pent up emotional yuck came up today, and it did nothing but hurt. For the first twenty two years of my life, I was the golden child.  I was spoiled, I got everything I ever wanted, and I lived a life that most people dreamed about.  I wasn’t born to millionaires but I was born to hard working successful people who could afford to give me what I needed and wanted.  Dad was in the military which afforded me a chance to see more of the world by the time I was 21 than most see in their entire lifetime.  I was truly blessed.  I also jumped when they called and was completely devoted to my family.  I loved them, and thought nothing of driving 400 miles to see them just because.  All this changed when I met my husband.

My husband and I will celebrate 24 years of marriage in November.  They have been hard years.  We have lived in poverty for over half of them.  We have raised three brilliant children, and have been through more things that have destroyed families than I think should be humanly possible, but we have done it.  My husband has mental health issues.  Some of his problems are Bipolar II, PTSD, ADHD, and anxiety disorder.  He is now recieving disability, but it took us 18 years to get it.  I have chronic migraines, and am one of the rare individuals that have had a migraine infarction (stroke caused by a migraine). I had it at the age of 28.  I probably could have gone on disability, but instead have worked to keep our family afloat.  Neither his family nor our family have ever fully understood his illness, nor have they understood me standing by him.

I have spent the last 23 years straddling a fence, walking a tight rope, taking pot shots from both sides about him, them, and how they don’t like each other, and how they are each hurting me, and how I shouldn’t take it.  They never see how when they each tear each other apart it tears me apart.  I love my family.  I love my husband.  You say something about my family you hurt me.  You say something about my husband you hurt me.  It is both of them.  Or was.  My husband finally got it several years ago.  My extended family too.  Now it is just my immediate family that is slowly destroying me.

How many times can you hear I am so proud of what you have accomplished and how far you have come, to then hear 10 minutes later, if only your were a fraction of the girl you were in high school.  You had so much potential then.  So much fight.  We had such high hopes.

G

Update

I wrote this 7years ago. I am posting it now, because I was incredibly stressed, panicky, and distressed when I wrote it. I was under enormous stress, and was beginning to have panic attacks. I still have them, I am still under larger responsibilities that seem to have no end, but I am better. I mention this and post this so maybe at least one person will see it is not just them. This is the month of Mental Health Awareness.

I am better mentally than I was when I wrote this. I went and got help. Three things have happened. I have a great counselor, I am on the right medications for anxiety and PTSD, Finally, I am learning to take each day for what it is. A blessing. Normal is only a setting on clothes dryers and some hair dryers. Find a way to process what you feel, and if you get overwhelmed reach out for help. It is as close as 988. You will be connected to the resources you need.