I wish I could write some magical guide on how to explain your needs to your S.O. about your mental health, a general guide on bipolar disorder. But the face on the matter is that you can’t. No one can because this illness takes a life form of its own in every single living person it consumes. And it consumes differently. Some people it cripples with fear and doubt and self-hatred; While others are lite with a creative spark, or a violence so deep seeded it borderline psychopathy… and yet other rapid cycle so quickly that they don’t know what you want because they don’t know.
Me? To define me is to define an enigma, a mystery because I don’t exactly know who I am. I’m still creating myself. I know who I’d like to become. I know generally what I need…
But to communicate what I NEED versus what I WANT well that is where the trouble lies. I bottle things up deep down inside. I take things too personally and I bury things deep inside because I’m scared of talking about what is going on inside my head. Because everyone besides my parents and my blood related family I’ve ever opened up too has left. Every single bloody person I have loved that has ever mattered to me that I have shared ‘feelings’ with, is gone. And it has caused me to not speak about the ‘f’ word. Fucking I can talk about, politics, religion, don’t make me talk about what I need and what I want and what my feelings are because to me they don’t matter, no one will listen and in the end the other show will fall and I’ll just be left alone again. That’s how my life works. I’ve been homeless more times than I can count, including driving home from a major city in MI. I’ve let people use me and I’ve made bad life choices. I’ve picked myself up so many times after falling down and some times after knocking myself down, others getting knocked down that while I appear strong I am weak and scared.
I want to be held. I want to be touched, to have someone run their fingers through my hair and kiss me while I cry and tell me that everything is going to be ok that they are there now. I don’t want to be told to stop crying that it does no good. Well, I know very well that it doesn’t do any good, but damn it let me have my moment of crazy before I break completely.
Compliment me. For the love of GOD! I have lost 139 lbs and I’m very excited about this, I know I’m not super model thin, or girl next door pretty or porn star hot. I want to fall asleep in someone’s arms and know that I am their number 1. That I come first. That no amount of alcohol, porn, pot, or anything that brings pleasure into a person’s life will be first before me. I mean I’m not stupid if there was a child involved I would expect the child to be first. But I want to be their number 1. I want them to show emotion with me, to not be afraid to cry. To be pissed at me. Show me passion enough to get pissed off. Show me you care.
Cause showing no emotions to me, well to me that tells me that you don’t care. That words are cheap and actions are loud and clear. That I’m not a priority in your life, that I’m just kinda here. Hell if I had pulled what I pulled this weekend (I went to my mom’s and didn’t tell said S.O.) I’d be pissed because I love him and I’d be worried as hell. I got no reaction except “I don’t care what you do, I was worried and didn’t sleep and just tell me next time.” This reaction tells me that my being here just doesn’t fucking matter. That it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t here. This entire reaction scares me. I would have hugged him and kissed him and cried and smacked him and yelled and expressed how much it hurt.
I just don’t know anymore. I really and truly don’t. I feel like I’m being pulled in a thousand directions. And it’s literally breaking me apart. I’m unsure how long I can last this way. I just know that at this point I question if its even worth fighting for…