I can’t sleep so I thought I would post some photos that remind me of being an undiagnosed, miserable human being who desperately needed help. And yet, I could put on a brave face and no one knew.
Here I am in Rome. I loved those jeans. That’s about all I loved. I didn’t want to be on the trip because my house had just been burgled and my anxiety was at an all time high. I didn’t sleep at all during our 4 day trip, except the night I drank so much I probably should’ve died. I didn’t want to be around my husband, either, so all the pictures he has of me I’m at least at arm’s length. Metaphor?
Still in Rome. Still angry and exhausted. Feeling guilty for not enjoying this amazing trip we were on, and feeling guilty for ruining it for my husband.
This was my favorite Edvard Munch painting in Norway. I fell in love with him immediately when I saw his winter paintings. I think we are kindred spirits, only he got the talent.
The Munch museum was a hard day. Once again I felt guilty for not having enough energy and not wanting to be around my husband. What I didn’t know is I was in the middle of a mixed state and an inch away from ending it all.
This is how I spent at least a month of my life when we lived overseas. I couldn’t move or speak. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but the idea that I wasn’t like everyone else was beginning to solidify.
My memories of this time are my husband screaming in my face for me to stop being a bitch and speak to him, feel something, do something. I couldn’t do any of those things, so I’d just roll over and go back to sleep for another week.
Here I am in Rhodes, Greece, on the trip of a lifetime. I love the beach and Greek food so I was excited. I had just completed my first half marathon and felt better than I had in a while.
Then my husband and I got in to yet another fight and he left me at the bar in the hotel. I didn’t have a room key or a cell phone, so when I finally figured out where he was I screamed my head off and we didn’t speak for a couple of days. I look happy enough in these pictures, but there was a storm going on inside.
Once again, I had ruined the trip of a lifetime.
I’ve been all over the world. I’ve had insomnia in at least 10 countries, full on manic freak outs in two, and at least one fight with my husband per trip.
I am grateful for my travels, they have made me who I am. But, once again, now and always, I’m ruining the trip of a lifetime.
Bipolar Bajillionaire 