Woes of Anniversary

My anniversary this past year was a tough one. We got married on November 5, so since it is around the holidays, this past anniversary turned into an unhappy one. Leading up to these months were tough for all of us, myself included. I had been through a lot, and knowing that our anniversary and the holidays were rapidly approaching, it was devastatingly scary for me. I knew I'd have to face it, and I knew I couldn't run away from it. It was right there in front of me like a shark at the depth of the ocean. I had nowhere to run and I couldn't escape.


For many years, I loved celebrating our anniversary. With the exception of my daughter's birthday, it was the one day of the year that was most special to us. Although we couldn't afford to travel or buy lavish gifts for each other, we still celebrated it with excitement and angst. Once we chose the restaurant we were both happy with and felt would be enjoyable for our celebratory evening, my husband was eager to call and make the reservation. 


Throughout the years for our anniversary, we would get a babysitter and enjoy it on our own, but the last 2 or 3 years, we decided to bring our daughter with us. We realized that she was a big part of our lives and felt she was why we were here and why we were together. She always enjoyed it as much as we did and took pride in participating with us. It brought us happiness.


We decided to eat at a local oyster & seafood bar that had recently opened several months prior, and it was only a few blocks from our loft. So aside from convenience, we figured we'd enjoy the new surroundings and experience. Since I had been wanting to eat there when it opened, it was the perfect choice. But something always came up, whether it be money or just time, we could never go. It seemed like there was always something; always a deterrent to keep us from going.


We didn't know how expensive it would be, so we ended up being conservative and would ultimately choose a more modest restaurant instead. This time, for our special day, my husband knew it'd be the perfect locale to honor our anniversary. He wanted to make me happy and make it unforgettable.

But this last anniversary was different. So very different.

I didn't want to be there and I didn't want to celebrate. I just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and cry. I wanted to be alone. But how? How could I be alone on a day that involved another person? It wasn't my birthday and it wasn't another frivolous holiday, it was OUR anniversary; it was our day.


Maybe on most occasions I could pull off the self-pitying fetal position, but this year was different. I really wanted to go, I really did. But with how I had been feeling the prior months, I knew it was a risk being there and bringing our daughter to go with us. But how could I say no? They were both trying so hard to make me happy and they wanted so badly to bring a smile to my face. So I did what any mother and wife would do during these circumstances—I sucked it up, and I went. 


This time, willingly.


What I would give to have it end there, but it didn't end happily. Not this time. At that point, I hadn't started hitting myself, so going home was not a scare nor was it a concern. However, my unhappiness was. Nothing could please me by this time, and nothing was "good enough."


All I did was complain about everything—the service, the food, the prices, the drinks—all of it. I couldn't find anything good about anything. As we were waiting anxiously for the check, I was sitting there tapping my leg as if I had to make an emergency run to the bathroom. I look back on that evening today, and realize how much I crave for a nice quiet evening such as that fateful night on our anniversary, and it saddens me. It only makes me realize how much pain I was in at that time. It was out of my control; it wasn't me back there. 


But is it too late to make amends with myself? Give myself some peace?


I don't know. I honestly don't. I realize that having bipolar disorder is out of my control; it's something I can't change. All I can do is continue my medication and realize that everyday will be a challenge, a challenge that I am ready and willing to embark on. A new day.


I now think to myself how lucky I was for having the luxury of spending a lovely evening at a delicious restaurant with my family, and how evenings like that are too few. After recently coming home from my father's funeral, I realize how he can no longer enjoy a delightful evening with his wife, or take advantage of a delicious meal at a sensational restaurant—these are things that he loved to do on many occasions, and can no longer do so.


That breaks my heart.


Is it a cliché to continually remind yourself of a common sentiment that "life is short?" Or should we actually take this advice and try and see the good in everything and everyone? Is it unrealistic to have such a positive attitude, or just absurd?


For me, the answer isn't that clear yet, but I hope it will be someday—soon! I am very anxious for that answer. I need clarity in my life. Especially now.


I desire nothing more than sitting in a restaurant with my family so we can enjoy the time we are spending there together, not look at what's going wrong, or what's right, just enjoy it; embrace it.  Whether or not the food is crap, service is slow or if the drinks are overpriced, will be irrelevant. I will only enjoy the time that I'm there with my family and take advantage of the precious time we have now and will continue to enjoy for the future.


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