May The 4th Be With You: 13 Years + 4 More

TheHusband and I, circa 2010.
TheHusband and I, circa 2010

Dear Internet,
Today is TheHusband’s and I 4th wedding anniversary. According to Hallmark, y’all should be loading us up with fruits/flowers or appliances. I think we are in the market for a bigger food processor, so if you’re feeling kind, here’s your opportunity.
Our relationship has been fraught with adventure and surprise! We met on IRC in 1997, moved in together upon our first meeting in 1998. Broke up a year later and did not see each other again until “The Great Bang” of 2008. He commuted between California and Michigan for six months, moved in with me the summer of 2009 and we’ve been glued to each other’s side ever since.
Everything they say is true: Marriage is hard. Sometimes it is awful and terrible and it is WORK. People who say marriage isn’t work is full of bullshit. It is only when you’re committed to someone, really committed, when the facades fall away and you see their real selves that you want to throw in the towel and say, “Fuck this.”
But then marriage to someone who is mentally ill, someone who is bipolar (that would be me) then marriage becomes a fucking Iron Man of relationships. And you’re like WHY ME? And I wonder, and I have asked, why he stays because none of his is easy for him. It may only get worse. But then he tells me that there is no one else for him but me, and I know I am home.
It is literally his belief in me that everything will be okay, his almost unconditionally love of me (Just to be clear, I don’t think he would love me if I went on a murdering spree.), and how overwhelmingly supportive he is of me that keeps me alive. He can calm the crazy, he gets me off that ledge, and he gets me back to where I need to be to function. He is almost better than any drug on the planet. (Almost because I haven’t tried them all.) He is my support system and I thank whatever gods are out there on a daily basis that he is in my life.
(There is always that overarching feature we’re both too lazy for paperwork.)
And yet, here we are. To the years yet to come, may they be even better than the years that were.

So on May 4th, next year and every year after, wherever you are: Raise a glass in salute to love lost and love regained, to the impossible and improbable and to Lisa and Justin getting married.

Our wedding mix. | Our honeymoon (Yep, still missing pics)

xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2013, 2013, 2011, 2003

 

A coil of rope worn over the shoulder by smugglers

Dear Internet,
Mania works like this, with ADHD added for extra charisma (+4):
Your mind is not in any one place. It is HERE. It is THERE. It grabs things in between and forces it into an imaginary motorboat that leaves your mind wet.
Things are started and not finished. You tell people you are forgetful not because you actually forget but because you have too much to remember.
Onlythebravewillaskyoutoslowdownwhenyoustartspeakingsofastthatthewordsjusttumbleoutofyourmouth. Mostwillpickupontheeveryoddwordtomakesenseofwhatyou’resaying.
Everything is shiny, but there is often long periods of boredom which is underpinned by how overwhelmed you are. So projects are started, dropped, picked up, dropped, started over. Add. Rinse. Repeat. You used to liken it as learning to play chopsticks and thinking you could then produce Beethoven in a fortnight.
You still think you can play Beethoven in a fortnight.
During mania, your confidence will teether on being megalomaniac. No, not teether – is megalomaniac. You are invincible. You are infallible. The world is your oyster. You can get, and have received, nearly everything you’ve wanted. You will take it by any means necessary. You are the BEST. You are the ONE.
You will do it your way or tell people who disagree with you to fuck off. You think those who are not like you are weak, and especially those who display low self-esteem. You laugh at stereotypes often applied to you, because your megalomania trumps normalcy. You do not fit into a perceived idea of what you should be, so you think you are a special snowflake.
You might be right.
Your mind does not rest. It is a painful  slow curve of a headache that stretches low across the forehead. Throbbing. Continuous. You’ve gotten so used to that feeling that not having it seems abnormal. Drugs can sharpen your mind from the fuzzy waters it treads on, but there is always a price to pay for the drugs.
Sometimes you rationalize you just cannot care.
You’ll shoot from the hip, your mouth smoking from the rapid fire comebacks, but that is just your way. You’re brusqueness, because you are economizing on time and emotion, most often repels people but you disagree with their assessment (of course you do) because if they can’t deal, then you think they are not worthy of your time. People will either love you or hate you.
(Truthfully, most humans are pretty useless.)
When you’re maniac, you can create a wondrous world around you and invite everyone to see, and all that do see seem to be entranced. You are EXCITING. You cannot decide if they are enraptured with you or think you’re a hot mess, but the truth doesn’t really matter. The dichotomy of your brassiness  is tempered with charm, so you at least recognize you’re an acquired taste but you hypothesize you’re worth the wait.
(Many do seem to agree, to the chagrin of a few.)
You’ve done a pretty good job of starving off most personal friendships. You cling to a few, but you are often too exhausted to expand your circle. Keeping your mask on to function does take its toil. If not emotionally, physically. But you pine for the groups and friendships that always seem to elude you.
You crave that normalcy, the days when your mind is not whizzing along at the speed of sound, when you don’t create tick off a list to keep your personality in check before you leave the house.
You do understand that day may never, ever come.
We have not touched upon bad life choices, indiscretions, and other vague regrets when one is manic, but that is okay. Those stories are better in one off settings when you’re preparing to entrance a new groups of people, to woo them to your lair.
You have become a modern day Schenzernade and it suites you.
There is also the lack of sleep, the existing on 2-3 hours a night that will happen if something is not put in check, whether by drugs or other. You think with that much open space, you would get work done, BE CREATIVE, SOLVE CANCER, but mostly it just turns into you wandering the internet late at night, wondering why you feel so alone.
You’re okay with everything because you’ve finally learned to live with your gifts and recognize when the crazy hits and how to react when it does. While you can balance the mania, and create a structure to keep it contained, what you most fear is the day when you will crash.
Because one day it will and then everything begins anew.
Stay thirsty my friends.
xoxo,
Lisa

This Day in Lisa-Universe: 2011, 1999

small perfect moments need recording too, part II

Miranda Hart is my hero
Miranda Hart is my hero

Dear Internet,
I am coming down with the plague. It’s been hovering like a helicopter parent for the last few weeks and doing nothing but pissing me off while making me feel like crap, so double bonus! Throw in some blood wolves rage and I’ve got all the bases covered.
Being a female is BRILLIANT.1
While I drugged up heavily this morning, my vapors to-ing and fro-ing, leaving me to finally woman up and make an appointment with my doctor tomorrow for the good drugs. I also canceled my plans for the evening, which makes me sad, but I am feeling like death warmed over and I’d rather make it up to them when I’m feeling 100% rather than shuffling to their house with scarf around my neck, Vapor rub on my chest, and Kleenex up my nose.
I was, however, having a good spell earlier this afternoon, while the drugs were coursing through my veins, so I opted to still meet up with Sara for lunch. No amount of wasabi in on my sushi could clear my sinuses, I’m that stuffed.
Sara and I had planned this day for while now, with her being a new mom and my schedule so weird, and getting together with her is always hard. I debated about ditching her after lunch and coming straight home, but her charm won over my sniffles and we ended up having a grand time over the course of the day.
I was able to exchange recently purchased bras for new ones that fit — and if someone can explain to me how bras purchased six months ago, at the same weight and size I am now, fit just fine then AND now but the same size purchased a few weeks ago does not, please let me know. In the exchange, I had to go up a band size and am now a 44DD. Sara thought it was cute since I could still buy “regular bras.” She’s a 40F.
Tit slings, gotta have ’em.
We made pit stops through various stores, while I stocked up on items I’ll need for the upcoming year. I’m in hoarding mode right now, and yes this still a teaser until I get official words on things. WHICH STILL HAS NOT HAPPENED. But once I do, I’ll fess up to what’s going on.
To top off a rather grand day, I picked up Le Kabob for dinner. Cut me open and my veins will bleed hummus and whipped garlic.
Despite the rain, and the cold (how is it May 1?), and the sniffles, today was the second grand day in a row. While it’s rare to have a great day, it’s a unicorn fart to have two in a row. I’m being mindful to write down these days so when I go head long into depression again, I can use them as touchstones. I always need reminders to be grateful.
I took tomorrow off because of the plague, and with my late scheduled doctor’s appointment, that means I get to sleep in late, which I haven’ t done in weeks.
It looks like a three bender is going to happen.
xoxo,
Lisa

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2012

1. Actually, it is BRILLIANT. Just not today.