Another missed post yesterday...

This time it was understandable. I did not even turn the pc on before leaving the house. It was a Court visit day and everything was sort of 'on hold'. It is very easy to underestimate the stress such an ocurrence can have on everyone, the actual participant/defendant and the family. It seems that as a woman I will always be decsribed as emotional and over-reacting. Okay, my illness can have that effect but I am also allowed the usual extremes of emotion that non-Bipolar people have in these situations.

How is it that males, in particular, do not see how difficult it is to 'read' the silences and gaps in a person's conversation, especially when the actions are totally out of sync with the words? It is tiring constantly having to guess what is the correct response and course of action. You are often damned if you do the 'right' thing and damned if you make a faux pas.

In the end I have to trust my instinct and take on the chin any expressions of anger, hostility and judgement that ineviatbly flows my way. I must be able to understand that often the only safe release valve is to 'pay out' on your nearest and closest relation... after all, isn't that a way of testing steadfastness?

How long does one have to prove oneself? When does the male take ownership of his emotional baggage? Is there an age, or does it depend on life experiences? When does tough love backfire? Having used that before has that coloured and damaged my relationship now? Because I wasn't there before... how can anyone be certain I am actually 'there' emotionally and spiritually? Why does all this emotional caretaking fall on the shoulders of women in families? And when we buckle under the weight of these expectations and demands, we are irrational and hysterical.

Ah hysteria... thanks Dr Feud for the bad wrap.

Part of my wellness program is to really dig deep and monitor my emotional highs and lows, yet this becomes so very confronting and even exhausting. Today after yesterday's ordeal I could barely rise from bed this morning. I just wanted to cover up under the doona and pretend the world didn't exist.

I managed to use a whole morning doing exactly this, until I rose, showered and set about making a cake to mark a wonderful liberation from the justice system for a colleague and friend. But wouldn't you know it... the cake failed. And I did what any self-respecting woman would do... I cried. Yep, over the bloody cake.

Then I cried because I didn't have enough cash to buy another, or time to bake another.

I showered again and dressed to the nines to attend the party. After much primping and arguing with clothes which drew attention to where I still have weight left to lose, I decided on a reasonable looking mode of attire. all the time another work colleague's flippant comment about my calves being bigger than she has thought hung ominously in the air... Despite a 40 kg loss my body image problems are still evident... and I cried again.

Back to bathroom, reapply mascara, and get emotionally prepared to join the outside world. But of course my son is late home with the car and has used the petrol needed for my outing. And I have no cash until Monday, and he has only $10, not enough to make the return trip.

What follows is a tirade in which I am called an illogical c..., who never has any money and how stupid to drive to Lilydale just to do social things. Who needs to waste money so blatantly... yep, that pressed that 'bad parent' button again.

Around and around goes the argument that having miscalculated my cash situation was not the issue. I indeed had a right to go where I want, when I want in MY car, with no need for explanation or justification. Why should I have to defend myself? Part of my wellness is to maintain some semblance of normalcy and that includes meeting up with former work colleagues occasionally. Yet, not in my home. It is a waste of money... MY BLOODY MONEY... I put the tank of petrol in the car in readiness... the tank full that my son used going to his educational institution! Of course that is a priority also, but why do I always feel I must sacrifice myself.

So hours have passed, teas fallen... AGAIN, then the child's father gets home and buys into the act. Next we have all out war over the coming 21st birthday. According to my son, again a waste of money when no c...s have a cent at the end of each week.

I pay the bills and budget for things like Christmas and birthdays so my son (and his father) never miss out on what other normal families have.... yet again I am the STUPID ILLOGICAL C..T. Not only that, I nam condemned for organising a dinner for my son with his ex-boss and his wife, along with the three of us. That's a waste on money too. Given that said 'wife' and I are political opposites and many, many topics of conversation offend me and make me want to stand up and fight... I am then called a hypocryte for even pretending to be polite on such an occasion. Apparently, I should be HONEST and not go or organise this birthday outing. So I am irrational, illogical and a hypocryte. Geesh... good evening after yesterday huh?

So needless to say, I shower again, removed the streaked make-up and unsoiled social attire, wash the product out of my hair and retire to my study, like a good sensible poor person!

Can you now see how it is possible to move from a 0 to -2 then +2 THEN CRASH BACK DOWN to -4. The cycles are not daily or weekly, at times of extreme stress they can be this unpredictable... So here I sit at keyboard, again crying and feeling sorry for myself.

If I had enough petrol, I would just run away... ah but to where? That's exactly how I can get myslef into all sorts of trouble. So I am now going to return to the beloved sanctuary of the doona, and attempt a relaxtion excercise. And if that fails the wondrous sleeping tablet.

Can someone give me strength to know which way ahead through the 21st birthday nightmare!