I hate relationship me.
needy, whining brat.
Where does she come from?
Does she go back there?
Because I gotta tell you,
I’m in love with this man,
but his girlfriend is driving me nuts.
My therapist says…oh yes, I have one now, I highly recommend it. Anyway, my therapist says that I’m projecting the instability of the rest of my life onto my relationship which is, left to itself, actually quite lovely. Isn’t that fantastic? My entire life turned upside down in one powerful week (or so it very much feels), with the exception of my relationship with my boyfriend and so, to cope with this, I begin attacking my relationship.
See why I have a therapist?
Oh but there’s more. She says it’s actually very common. I forgot to ask her why. I should have asked her that so I could have shared that important piece of information as well. Oh well, point is, it doesn’t make me crazy, it makes me “common”.
Hm. That’s unusual. Well, but it’s not unusual, so says lady therapist. She thinks I’m actually more normal than I think I am. She says it like this though: “Seana, you’re much more normal than you give yourself credit for. You’re just more colorful than some of the rest of us.” Mmhmm. Colorful equals crazy like healthy equals fat. I’m so onto you lady.
The therapist lady, whom I like quite well but have just proven to be a liar, tells me that bipolar people are actually some of the most creative and intelligent people around; capable of thinking several lines of thought at once, of thinking outside the box. I ask her if I should put it on my resume. I can’t really tell if she’s amused.
What else? Oh yes, lady therapist says that, because of my history of abuse, the fact that my relationship is actually a very good one doesn’t work in it’s favor. That is to say, Jason being trustworthy and in love with me, subconsciously causes me to put a wall up between us, to keep a bit of distance. I compare him to other people in my life (read childhood) who were supposed to love me and be trustworthy and who, inevitably, one by one, turned out to be very hurtful people indeed.
I keep accusing him of waiting for the other shoe to drop when, in fact, it is me. Oh, he’s such a lucky fella. I should teach him the moves to the crazy dance. We can do it together. (Shhh… my therapist says I should stop calling myself crazy. She wouldn’t care if it wasn’t true, I betcha).
So then. I’m not crazy, I’m normal. Which is almost reassuring except that it’s not. It’s not, because that means you’re all a bit like this, too. Which means there’s no escape. Which means, we’re all just a little bit crazy and we’re all just a little bit stuck this way.
Come on, I’ll teach you the crazy dance. We can do it together.
I tell Jason all of this, of course. I wouldn’t be telling you if I hadn’t told him. Anyway, I tell him all of this and, during the course of that conversation, we talk about bipolar disorder in general and the mood swings and what we think that looks like on me, and am I manic or normal right now because it’s actually hard to tell. During this he says, and oh yes I quote, “I just like hanging out with you, no matter what you’re like that day. I come over, gauge your mood and go from there. Doesn’t matter to me, I just want to be with you.”
I gotta tell you all, from back here behind wall and from underneath the protection of all my sabotaging artillery, I am so in love with this guy.
Seriously though, his girlfriend is on my last nerve. Can someone shut her up?