Working the steps of recovery for me has certainly showed me how strong I am and how to be honest, ugly brutal honesty. For me when I overwhelmed, hypo-manic can’t sleep, leads to exhaustion, leads to my walls coming down and lord knows the chemicals in my beautiful brain are up and down, in and out and sometimes I’m a raging bitch. It’s true. I have full on rage when my hypo mania and pain boiling near the surface, weather and life stresses, I honestly have been learning to control this and recognizing I’m feeling like I’m about to blow. It’s scary! Like I loose my shit. I’m learning right now with my support team that because of the lack of fuidance|parenting or any basic fundamentals of emotional control, I’m emotionally stunted esentially. So when I’m triggered I can just explode. It’s no excuse! I know my behaviour is absolutely not ok yet I feel outside myself observing the rage. I’m ashamed.

I can feel it coming on, it’s the same each and every time. If I’m sorting out hard stuff and feel judged, unsupported, so far away from everyon, alienated because no one knows how much it hurts. My ears get hot, I hear my heart pounding I start to feel tingly and shaking inside like a vibrating aura. My eyes hurt, like they feel tight in my skull. I hold my breath and the. I’m just this raging, mean, violent to the point I’m unsafe, I’ve nearly died a few times while in rage and the come down of guilt that follows, I’m a miserable burden, too fucked up to allow anyone to love me. I’m so ashamed of this. At times my husband has cornered me for safety as I’ve overdosed so many times, cut my thighs raw like road rash,, the lacerations that go jistva bit further each cut.. the complete voulnerability and child like feeling. During these times I hate myself to say I’ve pushed my husband, called him things that are so far from true, he’s a really good person and I’m screaming I hate him. The other day I was a vicious beast and I struck him, I hit his shoulder. I feel trapped and attacked and I just loose all control. What kind of monster hits a good person for trying to help me, love me. He does.

No matter how mean I am he’s there after. He’s been frustrated as I said the last 5 years were too hard on my emotions. We knew I could be awful unstable along the way. I’m severally moody and the hormones, the ips and down. We knew but neither of us expected just how hard it would be.

He’s still here. He loves me even when I’m Jesus or a disciple of a mission. He’s loves me and at some point I hope all this hard work allows me to allow them to love me.

Unloveable is so hard.

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