I have been feeling really low, not to the point where I am back to the point in the journey of my illness that it is so bad I don't even want to get out of bed, but it is getting there, and that scares me. There have been later and later nights spent awake, and more and more worrying and such anxiety and tears about things, that looking back over the last few weeks (who am I kidding the last few months), mean so little. I know this:
You've kept track of my every toss and turn
through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
each ache written in your book.
Psalm 56:8 (The Message)
through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
each ache written in your book.
Psalm 56:8 (The Message)
So I know that my tears mean something, I get that, but right now, entering that pit again, those tears just feel so empty.
So here I am laying myself out for the world to see. Broken. Empty. Stumbling. Admitting that I can't do this alone, oh believe me I have tried, I DO try, but it always ends up back to this point. I get full of myself, feeling better, loving life (on the meds) that I think I don't need anything, any meds, to help me hold my head up and keep me from throwing things at Jake's head.
So I stopped taking them awhile back, it's been a few months now; thinking that I could and would do better without them this time. I did it for a lot of reasons. A lot of excuses really. But really I think that I am still so afraid of being judged by others, of being labeled: Bi-polar. Manic Depressive. Anxiety attack girl. Yup, that's me. So afraid that I just gave up on myself really. I let myself fall back down here, and now I need help back up again.
Yes. I need help. I said it. We need help, Jake and I. We need your prayers. My illness is wearing on my husband, I can see it. He's been having more and more sleepless nights too, worrying about me, worrying about money, and bills and everything a husband worries about. He just wants to fix it, and I know it hurts him that right now, he just can't. It makes things harder for him, and the last thing he needs, especially now while in school is to have all of this extra crap piled on him.
He can only handle so much and then he's just done, not with me, just done with trying to help fix me, trying to make me feel better about me. Done. Trust me, I get it. If the situation was reversed and it was him going through it, I would have been done, and stopped caring a long time ago, and as ashamed as I am to admit that, that's saying something. I know what I put him through on a daily basis and I know that it's not easy. At all. I know sometimes he wants to just throw his hands up and walk away, run even, because I know that I am a lot to deal with.
But he doesn't. He doesn't do any of that. He's a strong man and I know for certain that God put him in my life because He knew I needed someone that could handle me. All of me. At my best, and my worst. I know he really loves me. I don't know many other people that could handle the moods swings, and yelling, screaming, crying, and throwing of inanimate objects at one's head. He does it. Everyday. Thank you God!
So now it's time again. Time for the meds. Gotta go get a med check at the clinic to do that. And sleeping regular hours again, which will come with taking the meds.
God's promise to me and Jake. HE will carry us through these dark days, through the shadow-lands, and we will keep dancing through the minefields. Together.
Now turn the music off at the bottom of the page and listen to this music right here. It touched my heart in a HUGE way today.
