Dreams and Things

It's Friday and (I think) the day after I made the previous post. It's the early afternoon and we have returned from our respective psychiatric visits. I'm numb. Just now on the way from the bathroom back to my desk she waved and with a smile called out, "hi honey!" I answered with all the self-control I could muster, "Hi. Do you need anything?" She replied, "No. I just wanted to send you my love." I walked away, hiding the look of disgust on my face. Something snapped in me last night. The outpouring of vitriol directed at me last night changed the way I view her, our relationship, and my life. How did it ever come to this? Six years ago my third marriage broke up in a very acrimoniously. I had stopped drinking for a year beforehand. I've been a heavy drinker for most of my adult life. Becoming sober brought up an underlying bipolar type 1 condition which is now my diagnosis, along with a tendency to psychosis. My marriage flew apart...

I waited on her hand and foot earlier this week because she has a bad cold (as I had and to some extent still have). I loved her and cared for her and I was worried about her. But the following day was a different story. It's been difficult for a month or more because of a change in her medication. First of all, she went off of the Lexapro and on to a different medication that was supposed to treat her depressive condition without the weight-unfriendly side effect of Lexapro. The new medication was a disaster. It made her mean and nasty. She screamed at both me and her mother. This all during renovation of our new apartment. Also in front of the workmen we had fixing up the place. How embarrassing. The seemingly endless fit of invective directed towards me in the company of one of the workmen was so terrible that she scared him off. He no longer answers telephone calls. It is clear that he no longer wants to work in our apartment. I couldn't understand where these fits of a...

It's mind-numbing. I feel like I cannot leave my apartment. I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to blog and release my feelings. We recently moved into a new apartment. My psychiatrist tells me that moving is a very stressful experience, right up there with getting a promotion, a death in the family, and so forth. It  certainly has been stressful for me. It's like a combination of a tornado and fear. I am afraid. I am afraid of change. I am afraid of setting up yet another home after so many failures.  The apartment is taking shape and in the parts which have been unpacked and decorated are very beautiful. But will it work out? Will her mood swings break us up? Will my fears and bouts of psychosis break our relationship? What will happen to me if it does? I never know which person I will wake up to in the morning. Will she be happy and cheerful? Will she be depressed and wallowing in self-pity? Will she be mean and hateful? The  uncertainty is horrifying. I wak...

I am completely alone. I have lost the desire to listen to music or to watch television. I cannot read because my short term memory is so bad. I am sitting in the dark with candles lit and the lonely light that illuminates my keyboard. I am only able to blog and I am not sure how well this will play itself out. I moved into a new apartment recently. I should say we moved in but I cannot say her name or tolerate thoughts of her anymore. She treats me terribly, like the lowest organism that crawls desperately in the ooze of our perpetual conflict. I am stupid and worthless. She riles at me for not having understood what she means even when I pay the closest attention to all minutia. She angrily confronts me about all manner of behavior. I am not involved. Our moving experience is supposed to be fun and an event to remember with joy but I am ruining it for both of us. I do not have my priorities in place. I do not pay attention. I stand around when I am supposed to be help...

I'm in a dark dimly lit place resenting my father. He's always away at work and instead of missing him I hate him. I'm walking alone on the snow in a field. There is a pack of coyotes circling me and I am a little afraid they will attack me. But I become their friend and talk to their leader. The are, in fact, larger grey wolves. They want to know if I can supply them with meat. As I walk down a street I see a dark figure jumping from rooftop to rooftop as if it is following me. I am vaguely afraid of this apparition. I am not scared of the wolves  who now surround me. I grow closer to the wolves and often talk to their leader. They repeat their longing for meat which is scarce in the barren waste that is deep snow we both have to endure. I promise them I will find them meat and we all walk back to my house. I look in the freezer but it is caked with ice and all it contains is frozen pizza. I pry one out and tell the wolf leader that this is all I have to offer. I am afra...

I am in a big house. It has a lot of rooms but I am not completely cognizant of this. I know about them but my attention is focused on the room in which I find myself. I am seated in a large kitchen at a large, thick table with food and soda scattered about on it. An indistinct show is is playing on a large, old-style (not flat screen) TV on top of a large refrigerator to the right and rather far from the table. Several people are seated at the table talking but I cannot see or hear them. I am slightly uptight. I am wearing jeans and unaware of my shirt. It might be a t-shirt. Seated across from me is Janis. She is the twenty-year-old young woman I married and not thirty five when she left me. I feel a deep sadness about losing her but for now I am angry and we are arguing. The argument is aimless like lovers have. It reaches a fever pitch and Janis screams at me that she has found someone else to love instead of me. I raise my voice over the din and dominating the...

I am in a photographer's art studio. It is a loft with high ceilings and walls made of brick. The studio is well lit. A tall beautiful woman in her late thirties or early forties is there. She carries her beauty with elegance. My brother is on the opposite side of her from me although he does not look like my brother. I am attracted to her but not in a sexual way. I am stunned as I look upon her. We are in the kitchen of a manor made of brick. In the kitchen is an old-fashioned brick stove for baking bread. My father is there but he is a vague figure. Several men younger then me are there, presumably my cousins, and some old men that I think are related to me. My mother is there, too, and she is the elegant woman from the studio. She is quiet in a respectable way as she serves the men who are now in another room cheese.  I realize that I am hungry and go to the refrigerator. The cheese drawer contains only an old and moldy wedge of dry cheese, perhaps Parmesan or...