My weekly session with Pam was not a pleasant one.  For one, Greg and I were supposed to meet with her together, but he missed the appointment due to what he says, "time slipping by" him.  His recruits are entering the final week of boot camp, and there is much to be done in preparation for their upcoming graduation.  While I understand the whole "work is crazy" thing, I have been feeling lately like those recruits are more important to him than his own family.  He didn't even call to say he would not be able to make the appointment! 

I think he literally forgot about it and just dosen't want to admit it; which drives home the point that those damn recruits are taking first place in his life over me. 

Have I ever mentioned that I am a jealous bitch?

After royally chewing him out over the phone and hanging up on him, he came home late last night with a dozen roses in his hand accompanied by a heartfelt declaration of how sorry he was.  "I really fucked up, and I promise I will be there during your next appointment". 

How can I be mad at a teary eyed guy in uniform, flowers in hand, and basically offering to do anything I wish him to do? 

Anyway, Pam and I wound up having a typical session just the two of us.  Obviously I told her how upset I was that Greg hadn't arrived, as well as how depressed and anxious I have been feeling this week for reasons I cannot talk about---because I don't know what they are.  Apparently I was speaking frantically, because she told me to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and talk about the very first thing that popped in my mind. 

"I am not important to anyone anymore", I said. 

So we talked about those feelings.  My 35th birthday is just two days away.  My children are demonstrating their independance and strong sense of self more and more everyday, which are clues that they don't need me in the ways they used to.  Instead of sitting and cuddling with me, they are on the phone, writing letters to their friends, closing the doors to their bedrooms because they need privacy, amongst all sorts of little clues that they do not need (or want) "mommy" up their asses 24/7.  It used to be that the three of us were so close and so attached---we did everything together!  Now, I cannot even coax them to help me pick up the living room and load the dishwasher without them complaining that they have "other" things to do.  So not only are they most positively showing signs of teenagehood, but they are not helping me around the house, which leaves feeling lonely and overwhelmed with work, work, and more work. 

And while Greg and I share a love that cannot be broken, the dynamics of our relationship have shifted.  I was very young when we married....just 19, and a new sailor in the Navy.  My eyes were wide open and excited, like a kid in a candy store, at the prospect of the world being as big as it was.  Everything was new and uncharted.  Since I had come from such an abusive upbringing, the world looked a lot bigger and shinier because I had been so neglected and unloved all of my formative years.  Greg was a bit older than I--24 years old---and he had much more experience than I.  He too had come from a broken home--the son of an alcoholic father and a narcissistic mother---but dealt with that pain in much different ways that I did my own.  While I was excited and naive about the world and the prospect of making my own tracks in it, Greg was more cool and relaxed and willing to "take things as they come".  I wanted to conquer everything; and he wanted to sit back and watch me do it. 

It was a perfect joining of souls. 

We remained like that for years.  I was the go-getter in all things.  The caretaker.  The goal setter.  The organizer.  The voice of reason, encouragement, support and strength.  I set the tone.  And Greg, with his cool as a cucumber disposition, happily sat back and said, "of course you can do it!" whenever I needed a boost in my quest to rule the world.  He never stood in my way, and he never expressed one ill word toward my aggressive approach towards adulthood. On the flip side,  I refused to criticize or critique  his belief that remaining on the sidelines of life was the best way for him to maintain himself. 

But then things changed.  He decided that he wanted to leave our cozy little bubble of predictable existance and go to war in Iraq.  Without me.  Without my consent.  Without my blessing.  Without my input at all.  All of a sudden, right before my eyes, Greg became a man who wanted to be a part of something bigger than what he and I had created within our family and home.  Perhaps my mistake was loving and accepting him too much; because I didn't say a word.  I didn't ask him not to do it.  I didn't tell him how scared I was, or how much I needed him to maintain the sense of saftey we had so carefully crafted together for so many years.  By the time I realized these things, it was too late.  He was already gone.

Back then, I thought my fear of him leaving was for obvious reasons:  that he would die in combat.  Of course I was afraid of that; but only recently have I discovered what my other (and more powerful but covert) sources of fear were.   I was afraid of him leaving me alone to conquer the world by myself.  Without him, I did not know who I was standing alone.  Without him there to tell me it was okay, that I was okay, I did not believe that I was at all "okay".   The truth is, I never really learned that I was "okay" at all.  I needed Greg to do it for me. 

As sick as this sounds, in many ways, Greg had played the role of the father I never had.  And when he decided to go to war, to do something without me, I felt betrayed and abandoned in the exact same way I felt when my biological father dropped me on a doorstep, never to be heard again.  My father destroyed my sense of saftey, and any feeling that I had of being a worthy lovable person. 

My crime was that I had held Greg in this same position.  And when he left, I felt those old wounds all over again, like they had been split open. 

And even though it has been years since his return from war, life hasn't been the same.  I love my husband, but he came home a changed man.  He is highly decorated for his efforts in the war, and his career took off like a skyrocket since then.  As the provider for the family, he is desperately trying to advance in paygrade before retirement, and meet the additional criteria requested of him to deserve that paygrade.  In order to do this, he spends a lot of time at work----and a lot less time with me, which leaves me to my own devices. 

Greg found a life outside of our relationship.  He grew up.

I, however, did not.  I have remained stuck in the my need for a father (and mother, presumably) figure who revolves around taking care of and encouraging me in anything I wish to do.  I have remained stuck in my need to be around Greg all of the time to feel good about myself. 

And I am grieving the loss of what we had.....even though it wasn't very healthy to begin with. 

So as I approach the age of 35, the growing of my children and their need for independance outside of me, and the sense of self that my husband has developed as he continues to evolve as a person---I have painfully realized these past couple of years that I have not grown. 

Because without someone else to love and shape and mold....without someone to live through....I really have no clue who I am outside of these people who have been such a wonderful distraction to a very basic question: 

Who am I?

The most simple and obvious solution to my problems of lonliness and abandonment issues is to go out there and find myself a life.  Participate in things I enjoy.  Think about myself first.  Set personal goals.  Make more friends. Socialize more.  Etc. Etc.

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this from people:  "Stacy it's time you start thinking about yourself!  Get a job.  Take a class.  Start a career.  Volunteer." 

It goes on and on and on. 

And at risk for sounding whiny, my response to this superficial feedback from these people is: 

I don't know how.

And...

I'm terrified to figure out how.

Obviously this comes up in therapy, and it came up yesterday.  Pam made an observation about me that I have never heard before, and it has me quite uneasy.  In fact, I am taking my panic medication to cope today. 

Any therapist or psychiatrist that I have ever seen--and there have been several---have always told me that I have some kind of "mood disorder" of varying degrees.  When we talk about mood disorders, it is not a simple case of being "moody" in the context that a woman might claim she undergoes during menstruation.  A mood disorder is a constant state of shifting mood and perception.   For example:  a person who has bipolar illness may experience weeks or months literally feeling on top of the world, and display behavior indicating that he/she is invincible.  They feel soooo good they have little need for sleep,  talk a mile and minute, make grandiose and often risky career moves, and sometimes partake in dangerous behavior such as chemical/substance abuse, spending sprees, unsafe sex, etc.   Sometimes this "manic state", if left untreated, will result in psychosis. 

But then, for no apparent reason, the person will "crash" into a debilitating depression.  And I'm not talking about a bad day or a low mood.  Bipolar depression is devastating and dangerous.  This same person who was on top of the world last week may now be unable to get out of bed because they feel worthless and literally hopeless.  More often than not, the bipolar patient ideates suicide; and is at high risk for completing it. 

Interestingly, some patients can suffer what's called "ultra-radian cycling", which means they can shift from manic to depressed in a matter of days; and more rarely---hours. 

There has been question for years whether or not I suffer from bipolar disorder.  It is a difficult diagnosis to make, and takes years of observation of the patient to make that determination.  I have never experienced a "manic state", such as what I have (closeley to the DSM describes).  However, like normal people I suspect, I have experienced periods of time where I feel reasonably "good" and that my issues seem far away and don't affect me very strongly.  I have experienced, however, deep depression.  I have been suicidal; and as a teenager I attempted it. 

These shifts in my moods are usually not abrupt.  My reasonably good mood lasts for months; and I will slowly over the course of weeks, slip into the depression.  Once that depression sets in, it feels like my life should be over.  Everything is hopeless.  What is the point of living, I will ask myself. 

Whether that is a bipolar disorder treatable with medication, I do not know.  I do not seem to respond very well to the prescribed treatments; because I still find myself switching from reasonably good to absolute shit regardless of whatever substance I am am prescribed.

(This is why I wrote about the seasonal issues, and wondering if that is a component of my mood issues the other day)

Anyway, as I was saying, regarding my moods, Pam made an observation about me that I had never taken notice before.  And I will summarize as best as my understanding allows me to. 

And goddammit, Greg just walked in the door for our trip to the grocery store...so I have to close this entry for now.  Don't you love how that works?  Just as I'm getting to the point of it all.  lol. 

I'll continue this entry later.  Thanks for reading.