The Fog

It’s often hard to explain mental health issues to people who have never been afflicted or interacted with someone afflicted by them. They just don’t have the capacity for understanding, or at least haven’t with the explanations I’d tried to give before now. Lately, since my new diagnosis and this life-changing drug, I’ve found the best way for me to describe my personal journey. 

All my life I’ve been walking in a fog of anxiety and depression. A dense, damp fog that surrounded and clung to me like a thick blanket drenched in cold water. Even though I knew there was more to life than anxiety and depression, I couldn’t see beyond that fog. 

Over the last six years, as meds that worked were introduced, I took a few steps out of the fog, revealing shadows of the life outside. They were dark and blurry, indistinguishable at times but visible none the less. After the worst of the side effects brought on by the introduction of a beast called Lamotrigine, every week when we upped my dose, I took another step out of the fog. 

I still struggled each time we increased it. The thoughts running through my mind did not always sound like me, I had insomnia and nightmares when I did sleep. Still, I took a step out of that fog every time.

A weight lifted off me, giving me the ability to control my emotions and my thoughts that up until then had free reign inside that stifling fog. 

It was liberating.

My bipolar diagnosis was like finding the key puzzle piece that brought the picture of my life together in a way that finally made sense. The medication was a lifeline, a refuge, a trail of bread crumbs leading me to safety.

I can regret the choices made in my darkest hours, I can’t for the life of me regret the moments that led me to this place. The realizations, the freedom and control that have come from it, have been worth it. 

I believe people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I thought he’d be a life time…maybe he was simply here for a reason…to help me find that missing piece. 

I should walk away, but I’ve still sent ridiculously long emails begging for another chance. I betrayed him in an unforgiveable way and should let him go so that he can find someone who deserves the investment and care that he gives…but I can’t seem to. 

Has anyone else out there betrayed someone they loved and then struggled so hard to watch them walk away?

How did you move on?

How did you let go of the line that bound you together? 

Fate or Coincidence

I found him first, and then he found me

Two worlds collided, the reason unseen

He’d call it coincidence, and I’d call fate

Whatever reason we met for our date

He led with his mind and I, with my heart

Yet there was chemistry right from the start

He’d meet every argument with research and fact

I relied on instinct, prone to overreact

He knew what he wanted, and I was unsure

He’s filled with confidence, where I’m insecure

His life, like his home, is uncluttered and clean

For me it’s been complicated, a sight best left unseen

For him, everything sits in its chosen place

Yet my cluttered life I still struggle to face

He gave me everything, and I threw it away

A few bad decisions I regret to this day

He’ll never forgive me, I’m not sure he should

I’d still beg on my knees if I thought that he would

It’s hard to imagine how things could be

If I’d never betrayed him, or if he’d never met me

There’s no going back, as much as I’ve tried

My life feels so empty, I’ve no tears left to cry

Still life goes on, at least so they say

One step, then another, I’ll soon find my way

Middle ground

I have learned something about myself in the thirty years I’ve been wandering this earth, there is very little middle ground for me.

When I get a craving for Brussell sprouts, red meat or watermelon, it consumes my thoughts and nothing will satisfy me until that craving is met. If I dislike a food, I abhor it…..just ask me to what ends I will go to avoid the evil often referred to as the pea.

When I find a book I love, there is no such thing as reading one chapter per night. No, this obsessive book worm will not put her find down until the last page has been devoured. If I find within the first few pages or chapters that I dislike a book, no force on earth could inspire me to finish it.

When I love someone or something, I love them with every inch of my being; when that love is gone, it’s gone… half way, no reconciliation.

It is this type of obsessiveness that has led to the demise of more than one past relationship. Whether my passion, my desire for the other is much too much to handle, or my desire for that next step becomes either my undoing or theirs, I never really know.

This week I’ve felt the same ups and downs that have haunted me throughout these failed relationships. That panic that comes from seeing something I desperately want, but not daring to truly let myself want it, or even at times think about it.

With age comes patience, or so they tell me. I thought for myself it was a better understanding of what I wanted, which now I realize is only partly true. I think most of my patience came from thinking no one would ever want me the way I really want to be loved.

I’ve been expecting my Dom to choose something, someone better, this is inspired as much by my insecurity as it is by any lack of surety on his part. I haven’t let myself imagine a future with him because I never really believed it could be a reality.

The realization that I’ve been controlling our relationship in my own obsessive and twisted way hit me pretty hard Tuesday night. All along I’ve been using my fear as a tool to push him away. I’ve convinced myself this is temporary, and once faced with the idea that he could actually, honestly want more, it threw me for a loop.

I love submitting to him, if I could find a way to do that without being this vulnerable, I would…but I don’t think I can. I think the vulnerability goes hand in hand with submission.

So he will read this, and hopefully understand that I’m trying. I’m trying to let go of my fear, trying to give him more than just my will, more than just my love. I am also trying to give him my trust. I am trying not to live a life of fear, because that would imply I don’t have faith in him.

How do you explain that you can’t trust not because he is not trust worthy, but because those before him were not.