bipolar mom shares her insights on everyday life

Posts tagged ‘husband’

Our Father Knows Best

Lately, for some unknown reason, I’ve been looking back on various times of my life.

Yesterday, my former boyfriends was my thought topic. Some of the memories brought a smile to my face, others…not so much. I started doing the “what if…” game.   “What if I had married “Hercules” instead of Tom?” Every time I would insert a different name, a thousand reasons that Tom was better would come to mind. He’s obviously the best choice.

I only told one person “I love you.” And, yes, that was Tom, obviously. I didn’t realize people said it to more than one person. I just never did. I will still remember the feeling that came over me when Tom told me he loved me. My heart leapt out of my chest. I quickly responded with “I love you too!” and then we both hung up the phone really fast. You see, he was calling me to wish me a Happy New Year when he was living in Virginia, and I was living in Missouri.  We’d never dated. Just wrote letters and made expensive long distance calls. But, I knew then that Tom was THE guy for me.

So, as I reminisced about my past boyfriends, I really did come back to Tom as the winner over all those guys. I don’t regret dating those guys, because each relationship taught me something. (I feel like I have to put that disclaimer there. Some of those guys were really sweet, great guys. Others…(rolling eyes))

See, God had Tom out there for me. I couldn’t imagine any of those other guys dealing with my bipolar disorder with the calmness and love that Tom has. Right now, I have tears in my eyes because I know how very lucky I am. But, it’s not luck. It’s God. He’s got the plan. I just have to follow it. He hasn’t let me down yet.

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Oh No! Not Another List!

Yep.  Another one.

Things I dislike:

  1. Getting my feet muddy.
  2. Taking long showers.
  3. Hot tea.

Things I like:

  1. The smell of a hot car.
  2. A fire in the fireplace.
  3. When my husband comes home and gives me a kiss.

Oscar the Grouch Welcome Here!

Oh my gosh.  I just spent an hour in the basement cleaning up my daughter’s side.  It was supposed to be a classroom for her to pretend to be a teacher.  But, trust me, this property would be condemned, if it were. 

I lugged out: 2 trash bags of trash, 1 bag of stuff for charity, and a large box of recycling items. 

The problem is…you can hardly tell I did anything!

Now, if I had asked her to do it, it would have been a disaster because she would have cleaned about 15 minutes and then start playing, thinking it was done.  Plus, she would have saved a lot that I threw away.  Papers, awards, papers, notebooks, papers, glue sticks, and more paper.  Geez!  I thought I had a paper problem!

My son’s side of the basement is entirely Legos.  He and his friend build towns and then shoot movies with the them.  Pretty cool.  But, he doesn’t want to put them in boxes or sort them or anything like that.  He just spreads them out on the floor so that he can see what he has.  I’m fine with that.  If I asked him to clean it up, he could just scoop up all the Legos and put them in bins until the next time he wanted to use them.

Of course, my husband’s section of the basement is very tidy.  Well, for a workshop, anyway.  He’s got stuff where he wants it.  And, can probably find it when needed.

My section is somewhat organized.  Right after my stay in the loony bin I got a bee in my bonnet (what’s that phrase about?) to start cleaning stuff up and out.  So I had these shelves that we just jam-packed with stuff and I had no idea where to find anything other than Christmas stuff.  That holiday has it’s own shelf.  Now, that is all pretty organized.  I have had some stuff spill out of there into the adjoining section that is considered “common ground” and I really should get around to picking through it or finda place for it all.  But, until then, I’m good with it.

So, now I’m sitting here, taking a break, in front of the box fan, just waiting to cool off enough to take a shower.

But, let this serve as a warning.  If ANYONE reading this blog buys my daughter any more “School Stuff,” prepare for the Wrath of ZUZU!!!!  Unless, of course, it is an industrial strength vacuum cleaner.

Deep Thoughts with Kent

Yep.  Today was another session with my therapist Kent.  I had a long list of things I wanted to talk to him about.  There was a big issue that took most of our time.  (Fortunately, I saved it for last.)

I have been attending this marriage class/small group study about marriage for the past several weeks.  One of our assignments was to discover our own strengths and weaknesses and to discuss them.  Then we were to ask each other to work on one of our weaknesses (which happens to be the other’s strength).  I asked Tom to be more vocal; tell me what he’s thinking, more than just a few words when he answers questions, etc.  He asked me to be calmer when dealing with the kids and not fly off the handle.  Fair enough.

My question for Kent was “How can I get him to comment on my progress?  I feel like I am handling things with the kids better, but I am not getting that response from Tom.”  Kent then asked me why it was important to me that Tom thinks I’m doing a good job.  And I said it keeps me trying.  I said everyone likes an “atta boy!”  He nodded, but prodded deeper, until we got down to I felt as though I needed Tom’s approval to make me feel good about what I was doing.  As you can guess, this is not a good thing.

As usual, Kent made a comparison to food.  🙂  “If you make some potatoes and Tom thinks they aren’t salty enough, does that make you a bad person?”  Well, no.  But it does make me feel bad.  Again, wrong answer.  “Michelle, you are who you are.  Those potatoes are a separate entity.  They are not a part of you.”  Okay.  So?  “Now, the next time you make potatoes, you may add extra salt.  If Tom doesn’t say, ‘Hey!  These are the best potatoes I’ve ever tasted!’ does that really matter?”   Well, yeah, it does.  I always ask “Do you like this recipe?  How does that taste?” 

Kent starts to grin, realizing this is going to take awhile.

“Okay, let’s start out with the fact that MOST people take ownership of this kind of thing; MY potatoes, MY pumpkin pie.  So, when someone says, ‘That is a beautiful pie,’ that makes most people stand up straighter and all happy.  But, think about it.  They didn’t say YOU were beautiful; they said the PIE was beautiful.”  I laughed and said they might be thinking (yeah, you are UGLY, but that is one beautiful pie.)  “Exactly!” he said.  “That pie is just a separate entity and is not a part of you.  You are who you are.  You are a whole person and that pie does not complete you nor does it take away a part of you.  You don’t really need anyone to tell you that you are more than you think you are.  That would be like someone telling you ‘Hey, Michelle, you have ten fingers!  You thought you only had eight, but you have ten!’  Now that’s a completely different story.  That IS a part of you.  The pie is not.  If they say, ‘You made a terrific pie!’ is that going to give you another arm or something?”

Now, I’m finally catching on.  (Sometimes I am a little slow…)  But, I am also getting a little teary.  I’ve spent my life trying to work for approval of someone, be it my parents, friends, or husband.  I do feel like their approval is a part of me.  When I don’t have it, I feel as though there is this hole in me, that only they can fill.

Kent said, “We’ll work on this the next few times.”  Obviously, he thinks this may take some time. 

I will write more about this tomorrow since I’m just writing this from memory without even looking at my notes.  I know what you’re thinking, “How could there possibly be more?  This whole thing took me an hour and half to read!  Her session is only an hour, for cryin’ out loud!”  Yeah yeah.  Whatever.  No one is holding a gun to your head and asking you to read this…

Maybe I just need Jerry McGuire to say, “You complete me.”  Then, I’m good.

Happy Birthday, Honey!

Today is my husband’s birthday.  He’s out celebrating it in Beverly Hills.  I know.  Tough, right?  But, I know he’d rather be home with his family, so that makes it a little better.

Tom is 43 years old, but he doesn’t look it or act it.  His smile can still melt me like butter.  He also has the greatest legs and always has.  He loves to play around with the kids (some game called Space Monkey that involves a lot of rough-housing and giggling.  I can’t be in the room.  Makes the mother in me nervous.)

Tom has been there for me through thick and thin.  I remember his mom telling me on our wedding day that she knew Tom would always stay faithful to me.  She remembered that he had a girlfriend when he was little and he stuck with her the whole time.  (I have no idea how old they were, but I don’t think I need to be worried about her showing up and stealing him any time soon.)  Tom is very loyal to his company, the church, and just about anything he has agreed to do.  If he says he will be at every meeting, then you had better make sure there is a spot for him, because he will be there come hell or high water.  (love that saying.)

Tom is always on time.  His saying is, “If you are on time, then you are late.”  I’ve had to bend to that one.  I had a habit of being late to most things.  I didn’t like it, though, so I always ask him, “What time do you want to leave the house?”  Then, I make sure I am ready to go.  I appreciate learning that lesson from him.

So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TOM!  Your the Ernie to my Zuzu and I love you! 

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