Joy to Xmas

As I fill myself and my home with constant Xmas "cheer," a depression came over me like no other time of the year. It's expected to fill your tree (or in my case, a decorated ladder in lieu of a tree) with presents and happiness. For us, that wasn't the case. We were unable to buy each other gifts, nor were we able to buy the plethora of gifts that we usually buy for our daughter that has become a tradition every year. Even during Hanukkah, my daughter and I created a tradition of lighting the menorah as well as purchasing her gifts everyday during the 7 day celebration.

It was hard for me to not be able to adhere to this annual tradition this year. It's been a tough year, both financially and emotionally. Being unemployed as well as losing my unemployment benefits in early July, only made that worse for all of us. 

They say that Xmas presents are not supposed to define us, as it's supposed to be about family and love, but when you're one of the few—although it feels that way—who cannot take advantage of the giving tradition, it makes you feel sad, thus inept of this holiday observance. It makes you feel inadequate. Especially when there's a child involved. As parents, you want nothing more than to provide them with gifts, only to see their face as they open the wrapping paper in anticipation of seeing what will be hiding underneath. Even if she did ask for such presents for her Xmas list.

This year only brought disappointment. If not for my daughter (at least she didn't show it), but for us. Both of us wanted to provide her with what we've given her in the past—a bright smile and an unexpected surprise.

As we both sat there and gazed at her 'amazement,' I felt as though I was being jipped out of something that typically brought me a smile. Because I had no gift to open, no gift to rip open the wrapping paper and shaking the small bright box, I was sad and disappointed, if only for myself, and not my daughter or husband. Again, I know Xmas is not about gifts, but about togetherness that a family brings, I felt despaired at the same time regardless.

Does that make me selfish? Shouldn't I have sat there and been happy for our love and health instead? On that day, Xmas day, all I felt was resentment. Resentful that my husband doesn't make enough money to provide us with a plethora of gifts and surprise, only to be felt as though we were nothing; we were nobody in comparison.

I love my husband very much, but the last few months I have felt unhappiness instead. A feeling of loneliness and forlorn. I miss our 'marriage' and I miss the happiness we once felt as a couple. Now it only feels like we're roommates; roommates with a child. Sex has become inconsistent and dissatisfying. It's a rare act that has brought me despondency therefore has only pushed me away from what typically brings love to a marriage. Divorce has permeated my mind everyday, but what would I do without him at the same time?

I don't know.


I know if I walked away, I'd end up being unhappy, or would I? Solitude has always been something I've enjoyed, but on my terms only. My husband has always understood this therefore allowing me to go away for a few days to visit friends or relatives. Whereas most spouses may not accept this as part of their marriage. Isn't that why we get married to begin with, to spend time with that person and include them in their life? For me, that hasn't always been the case. Obviously that changed a great deal once my daughter was born, but for the most part, it never changed how I felt.

Recently, money has prevented me from taking advantage of such feelings, so I've only gotten worse in my confinement and resentment towards him. I know this is wrong, and I know I shouldn't take this out on me as my unemployment and recent lack of benefits has been a large part of that, but I have felt as though I have been deprived of something that has been so meaningful to me over the past several years as a result of this.

I know as time goes by, with my recent job, that will change a great deal. It'll take time as we catch up with bills that have recently snowballed into a large sum of payment every month, into a normal American household. Paying our bills every month, living a happy fulfilling life on a regular, daily basis.

I must, and I will. If only for the sake of my family and my marriage.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter 

The Stress of Marriage

As I start this post, I know there's a chance that my husband will read it, therefore causing more hurt than I intend. Since I started this blog, my husband has been respecting my privacy, consequently trusting me with the freedom of writing what I need to express here, allowing me to write personal words throughout its fruition. Is it difficult for me to write this? Absolutely.

Here I go.

The past few weeks have been difficult for our relationship, to the point that we have been fighting everyday as a result. I admit, it's been mostly on my part, not his, as I scream hurtful words towards him in hopes of a change. I realize that's not the right way to approach such a private affair, but at the time, it's what I know and how I feel to react. Even though I regret it immediately after, my stubborness disables me from apologizing, whence continuing the hurt.

Sometimes I don't know how to move forward with our marriage, and sometimes nothing would please me more. It changes on a daily basis and on occastion, I ask myself, is this what I want? Do I want to be married in hopes of being left alone? Or just fight through what seems like a rough patch? I know he is soon getting to the point of frustration, therefore about to walk away from it all. I don't blame him, I have put both he and my daughter through hell. It's not fair to them, nor is it fair to myself. 

The love I feel for him is unquestionable, it's why I have been married for so long. But the resentment I feel is also undeniable. I resent that we are in this financial anguish with only hope to guide us. At the time that I am writing this, we have no food, and my dog hasn't been able to eat aside from scraps we have left over from the previous week's dinner. I look inside our bare refrigerator and ask myself, how did it get this bad? I know that my unemployment has caused a great deal of that, but how can we still not have the money to eat? Forget a xmas tree or lights, we can't even afford that. Our home looks unconventional during this holiday season and nothing displeases me more. I've always loved this time of year and always enjoyed the bright twinkly lights permeating throughout our home. Only to look at dullness instead.

I'm bitter, I'm very bitter.

I ran out of my Trileptal last night and since my "drug dealer" is out of samples, I don't know when I'll be able to refill my prescription. After days of withdrawals, I know that will only hinder my diagnosis, not get better like it's supposed to. 

Everyday I look at my husband with disgust. I watch him work many hours a week just so we can have food on the table, only to see it empty instead. Here is an educated man working at a job he loathes just so we can have health insurance, and work for a company that has not given him a raise since he started 6 years ago. I plead with him everyday to look for another job in hopes of a better life, but I can't watch over his shoulder wondering if he's adhering to my advice. He's a grown man, and I know he only wants what's best for our family and regrets the position we are currently in.

In my eyes, we are living the life of poverty, only to not qualify for food stamps or the like. According to the state, my husband makes too much money to collect. Ironic. We're not big spenders, nor do we have a lot of debt (if any). It comes from bills and rent that must be paid every month, only to snowball with regular past due amounts and regular phone calls fighting after us. 

I don't know what to do at this point with my marriage, he has been there with me every step of the way as I struggled with my bipolar disorder, but as I wake up everyday in a dark depressive state due to our finances, I sometimes think it would only be easier if I went off on my own. Leaving him with my daughter to raise her properly and not have to worry about me and my illness or an extra mouth to feed.

As we sat through my therapy session last week, letting out our frustrations and spewing the hurt, I know that what I decide to do will have to come to fruition quickly, or both of us will sink down into a state of sadness and unhappiness. But what do I decide? How can I move forward with my life with or without him? That is what I need to think about every single day.

But how?

Give me the courage, please.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Crappy Holidays

This past holiday season was the worst holiday. Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays. Like most of the population during that time of the year, I eagerly look forward to them. I am the first one—even before my daughter—to be anxious to get a tree and embark on decoration detail. I am the first one in my family to embrace early shopping for everyone's holiday gifts, and I am the first one to decorate the fireplace with glowing colorful twinkly lights. I love that time of year. It always makes me happy!

Except for this past holiday season. 

It was awful. It was the height of my depression and frequent trips to the emergency room. The last thing on my mind was getting a tree, buying gifts, hanging ornaments and decorating with twinkly lights. In addition to the Christmas tradition, I am also Jewish, so every year my daughter and I bring down the Menorah in preparation for lighting the candles prior to the first night of Hanukkah. It's a tradition for both of us; a tradition that has meant the world to me since she was born. Since she was 4 years old, I always helped her with the shamash candle as her eyes brightened with such uneasy impatience as we lit the candles for each night. Watching her glow as we do this together has become more than a gift to me. It's our own tradition as mother and daughter.

Not this year. This past year was the first year I kept the Menorah in its usual year round spot. Sitting high above our shelves above the kitchen cabinets. As always, I purchased the Hanukkah candles early, only to have them sit unopened in the bottom drawer. Even now when I look at the unopened package, it brings sadness to my eyes, and my heart.

I couldn't even comprehend the spirit that has always uplifted me during that time of year. It was difficult enough to put on—what I call—a facade while I was out in public, but to be in my own home masquerading as though nothing was happening to me, was just too painful. I didn't want the reminder of the holidays surrounding me within my own private, safe space. It was too much to bear.

At first, my husband and daughter were very understanding of this. Per my insistence, they were planning on buying and decorating a tree without me. For the most part, I was comfortable with this; almost relieved as I was not expected to take part, but as the days inched closer and closer, I knew I couldn't handle these holiday traditions without participating. So I tried, I tried my hardest to get involved, only to break down in the midst of it. Most people will realize it, and snap themselves out of that 'funk' and continue on with hopes of not ruining it for their loved ones. 

Me? I wasn't in the right state of mind to do that. I didn't think logically, nor did I think rationally. I just did. I only reacted. 

As I look back, I wish I was able to prevent my actions for making those 'crappy' holidays worse, I only wanted it to be enjoyable for my family, but what I ended up doing instead was making it worse for them, not better. As the holidays progressed, they continued to walk on eggshells, instead of enjoying that jovial time of year—but it  was completely justified. 

It has taken me this long to look back and regret it all. Regret what I put them through, regret how they couldn't enjoy their holiday season like most of the world, but to make them scared and concerned for my well-being and my health, when they should have been celebrating and enjoying the festive holiday season instead. 

I look back and wonder how my poor daughter must have felt every single day during that time. Not celebrating like her friends, but worrying about mommy. Waking up everyday wondering if mommy was gonna have to go to the hospital again, or if mommy was gonna go into a crying fit, or if mommy was gonna hit herself again—repeatedly. I hate what I put my family through, and I hate how I ruined their holiday, but I can't change that now, I can only move forward and hope that this upcoming holiday will be different; will be the complete opposite.

As I sit here on the last day of May, writing this, it only makes me look forward to the holiday season that much more. I will eagerly mark the days off the calendar with anticipation for the months to quickly pass so I can start anew. Start a new tradition, an idea I have in lieu of a Christmas tree. Something fun, something funky, something new. A rebirth, if you will, as we will continue forward and move on with our lives happily and normally once again.

Start a new tradition.

Only 6 more months to go.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter