I don’t even know where to start, so I suppose I will start at the beginning. Before I get into the horrible weekend that I had, I will just say that I made it through in one piece and only threw one major fit. I would rather have not thrown any fits at all, but I only threw one fit. I gave myself an atta-girl on that one.

Our refrigerator was supposed to be delivered Friday night, they called to tell me it would be delivered Thursday night instead. That wouldn’t work because we weren’t in the house yet, so they moved it to Monday. Goodness, this wasn’t starting well.

Our furniture delivery was supposed to be late Friday. They called Friday morning at 10 AM — we don’t even have keys yet — to deliver the furniture. There was no way around it so we had to have it delivered to my aunt’s garage. So frustrating. Anyway, just a small problem.

We were so happy to sit down at the closing table. To finally be homeowners again was an incredible feeling. Everything lined up, the bank had the wire transfer ready, the attorney was ready to record the deed, the movers were on their way, everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

If there is one thing I have learned above all else when it comes to a Bipolar rant (or rage), it’s that it affects my entire family in dramatic ways. I don’t feel the degree of my mood swing matters; I think it is the act itself of losing control that has the most devastating consequences.

Shortly after my diagnoses, once I got on medication and started seeing things clearly, I noticed how my children lacked the ability to handle situations appropriately. They were not Bipolar, but I noticed that they were acting like me.

I was terribly ashamed.

By losing control, I was teaching my kids that losing control and yelling like a lunatic was acceptable, perhaps even normal. I started to realize that I was teaching them through my actions that screaming, yelling and losing it was the only way to handle stressful situations. One by one I noticed more yelling, more frustration and more arguing.

I made a decision that would change everyone’s life.

Why is it when my mood is most sour, my kids do everything in their power to irritate the crap out of me?

If I am in a decent, or even a good mood, my kids are angels. They mind their manners, clean up their messes, and rarely fight. On the other hand, when I am feeling ill-minded, they seem like four little terrorists making every effort to sabotage my own efforts to find peace. What is up with that?

I think it comes down to the negative air around here. Content breeds content, and hostility breeds hostility. There is my aha moment for today.

The past month or so has been terrible for me. I battle daily with thoughts of running away, ending my marriage, leaving my home and my kids, and sometimes ending my life. It has been a struggle for me to just get through the day. Throw a little stress in there and I’m done. You can find me on the couch with my pillow and blanket curled up into a ball. Yep, that’s my day.

Pole dance much? Why yes, yes I do.

Individuals with Bipolar have problems with money. It is a fact. It is not something I have ever been proud of and something I have struggled with for years. I have made remarkable progress when it comes to spending money, however, I am still under my husband’s microscope when it comes to any spending.

After our bankruptcy, we made dramatic (possibly extreme) changes to our spending habits. Our budget was squeezed, our money distributed to different accounts to attempt to find some type of financial stability. It has worked so far.

Well, early last year my husband expressed to me (after taking all the money away) that if I wanted extra money to spend, to start blogging or keep a child at our home for extra cash. I did, and he did not hold up his end of the deal.

Now, my “extra cash” has to go into the main pot for our household needs. I’ve never really griped about it because I still have enough to do little things for myself like an occasional pedicure, a nice haircut, Starbucks, etc. It has been something I have adjusted to, and that is okay with me.

But, we have a new problem.

At almost three years old he is so sweet. He is lovable, so full of hugs and kisses. He laughs, plays, jumps, dances and loves life. He is a very happy little boy.

I was certain prior to his most recent evaluation that he had grown by leaps and bounds. A small part of me hoped he had “outgrown” Autism, and the news would be wonderful. I see so much progress in him every day - doing new things and saying new words.  So when the evaluation concluded I was devastated to find he hadn’t grown as much as I had anticipated. Shame on me.

At 18 months old he was only developed to about 5 months in all areas except gross motor skills. Hearing the word “Autism” broke my heart and sent me in a tailspin. I cried for days. My husband did a great job at defining how “different” he is, and how that makes him special. I tried to accept it and worked with him very hard over the past year to teach him and help him grow. It did pay off; he has surpassed his age in two areas. His visual testing soared up to where a four year old should be. Oh I was so proud!

However, his social and language are still severely delayed, at the bottom of the scoring scale. If the score could have been lower, it would have.

My husband and I have had a rough time lately. There has been so much miscommunication, arguing and frustration.

I finally snapped.

I pretty much told him everything that was bothering me and I am not so sure I was very nice about it. I let out a lot of built-up emotions and resentment, and pretty much tore him to pieces.

It is not a moment I am proud of.

The biggest issue with my husband is after something painful happens, he likes to move on and pretend as if nothing has happened and everything is perfectly okay. The problem is it’s not okay, I am not okay. So rather than walk around with all this crap weighing me down, I just let him have it.

He argued like always with his comments of “oh, I am such a bad husband,” which set me off even more. I frequently tell him that this isn’t about “him” as a “husband,” it’s about us and about our issues, and about me and the things that are happening with me. He still continues with his defense: “you just make me feel like a horrible person.” It infuriates me.

Well, our vacation started off a little crappy, but we did our best to make it better. Everything was going pretty smooth once we got over the $80 lost and all other crankiness previously griped about.

My husband was having a very hard time with the stress. I was a little taken back knowing I was the one who was being calm and collected, keeping things in order the best I could. When I finally explained to him that there was nothing we could do to change the things that had already happened he started to settle down some.

We bought tickets on Craigslist for Medieval Times and planned to go Sunday night. We were all very excited, we had gotten a great deal on the tickets. We took the kids to the little strip with shops and such and they got little henna tattoos, and then my husband bought me a cute dress and we went out for a date night later that night. It was nice, I really enjoyed it.

The most fun was watching how many people were totally drunk beyond drunk. I was laughing more at that than anything else! Then leaving, I got a chuckle out of the “cab lines” set up for those drunk people to safely get home. It was a pretty cool system, clearly showing they have a problem with people getting completely wasted there!

The past few months have been pretty difficult. In fact, the past couple of years have been pretty hard. However, over the past week or so, things have felt a little smoother around here. I don’t know if it is the Welbutrin, or just life getting a little better, but I feel pretty good.

My dad and step-mom have had a rough time for the past couple of years as well. I’m that person that worries about everyone else first and myself last. Knowing my dad and step-mom have been having such a tough time has been extremely stressful for me too. I talked to them both yesterday, and was delighted to hear how wonderfully they are doing now.

My step-mom, who was in pretty severe heart failure, has received a clean bill of health. Whew! Also, my dad has moved to a different real estate company where they are very good to him. His previous office was a very shady one (at best) and they were basically screwing him over. He’s a very hard working man and always has been, and he deserves respect and finally has it. Yay!

Hearing the joy in my dad’s voice last night really gave me a wonderful sense of peace. I no longer feel like I have to worry so much about them, and that feels great. My mom, however, is still over in Germany and isn’t doing too good herself. She is homesick and misses everyone, but she should be moving back sometime in the next year or so, which is exciting for everyone. It will be nice when she’s home.

Recovery from such a major surgery has not been easy. I had my follow up this past Monday and things look okay…sort of.

I am having some problems with healing, it hurts and it’s yucky. It’s crazy they talk about risks, but they don’t mention how gross and painful it can be! I’m hanging in there though, as best as I can.

The depression has gotten much better, I am able to do a little more every day. I still can’t lift the baby but at least I can hold him on the couch. He’s been having sleeping problems the past week or so, we’ve been up until 1 am with him – I’m exhausted.

My two year old son has developed an obsession with our iPad. All my kids have loved having it around, but not like him. I’m starting to believe he is better with it than all of us combined.

He can play his cartoons and movies, and any game of his choice. It is a straight -up obsession. No one can use it if he is around, and he knows where we keep it. When he wakes up he has to have his juice, snack and iPad. Isn’t that a shame?