How To Love A Woman Who Has Been To Hell And Back

The woman who has been to hell and back is not easy to love.

For the woman who has been to hell and back will push you away. She will test you in her desire to know what you are made of, whether you have what it takes to weather her storm. Because she is unpredictable—at times a hurricane, a force of nature that rides on the fury of her suffering; other times a gentle rain, calm, still and quiet.

She is a contradiction, a pendulum that will forever swing between fear of suffocation and fear of abandonment, and even she will not know how to find the balance between the two. Because today, although she will never tell you, she will feel insecure. She will want you to stay close, to tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her on her forehead and hold her in the strength of your arms. But tomorrow she will crave her independence, her space, her solitude.

For while you have slept, she has been awake, unable to slow her thoughts, watching clocks and chasing time, trying to make the broken pieces fit, to make sense of it all—of where and how she fits. She fights her demons and slays her dragons, afraid if she goes to sleep they will gain the upper hand, afraid if she goes to sleep she will no longer be in control. Tomorrow she will be tired, and your presence will smother her. She will need only herself.

When she reaches out to you, love her.

When she pushes you away, lover her harder.

New situations and places and people and experiences will make her anxious. She will be fiercely independent and long to overcome her fears, all the while as terrified as a small child alone in the big world. Sometimes she will need to be courageous, to prove to herself she has what it takes. Other times she will need you to take her hand and hold it firmly in yours. Sometimes she may not know what she needs, and you will need to read her like a book with worn pages and a tattered spine and be what she needs when she does not know herself.

When she is brave and steps into the world on her own, love her.

When she is scared, but refuses to take your hand, love her harder.

She will live in fear of not being enough and always being too much—an endless battle to find the middle ground. Ashamed if the scale falls one way or the other, ashamed to be herself for no one has ever loved her both when she is small and also when she is tremendous.

When she feels too much, love her.

When she feels not enough, love her harder.

Sometimes she won’t hurt and the light will shine from her eyes and her laughter will be a rare and precious melody. But sometimes she will hurt so much from the trauma still in her body; she will ache, she will feel pain and anguish. The light will grow dim and the music will fade.

When she is the light, love her.

When she is the darkness, love her harder.

She will always love you with caution, with one foot out the door. For she does not understand a love with no conditions, one that is powerful enough to withstand hard times. She cannot allow herself to fully trust in your love, and she will keep parts of her heart hidden—the parts that have been hurt the most, the parts she can’t risk being hurt again when she has worked so hard to stitch them together.

She will always watch, wait and expect you to leave first. And when you don’t, she has a truth written upon her heart that says you will—it’s only a matter of time, for everyone who loves her leaves her. And so she will seek to sabotage the relationship; she will seek to destroy it, she will seek to leave first, she will seek to hurt you before you can hurt her. This is how she stays in control, this is how she survives, how she will ensure she will not get hurt again.

When she wants to love you, love her.

When she wants to hurt you, love her harder.

Being out of control terrifies her. Don’t ever make her feel powerless, trapped or without her freedom. She needs to dance barefoot under enormous blue skies, to feel sand between her toes, to run with wolves as the wind weaves magic through her hair, for here is where her healing is found. Never clip her wings, for if she has the freedom to fly, she will always come back to you.

Love her when it’s easy, and love her harder when it’s not.

Love her in a way that will defy all she has ever known love to be.

Love her because you understand with every fiber of your soul the gift of her love, what it has cost her to offer you her fragile heart.

She does not need you. She has chosen you.

Because you have what it takes to survive the storm.

Because even when she doesn’t know how to love, you know how to love harder.

Author Unknown

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Call your mom. Call your dad. If you are blessed enough to have a parent or two alive on this planet, then call them. Don’t text. Don’t email. Pick up your phone and call them. Tell them you love them. And thank them. And listen to them for as long as they want to talk to you.

Effects of Meds on Marriage

I’m trying to decide which can cause more damage to my marriage: the medication side effects or an unmedicated illness.

Ever since I started medication for my bipolar disorder years ago, I have secretly struggled with a decrease in sexual desire.

I could stop the meds. Then I wouldn’t have to force myself to have sex with my husband. I wouldn’t have to start mentally preparing myself in the morning so that I could initiate sex that night and make my husband think I’m all fired up.

I am, in fact, fired up. But it’s not something that instantly happens anymore. I can’t get spontaneously turned on and desire sex at random times. Not since I began treatment for bipolar disorder.

I have to spend hours working towards it. Mentally, I self talk.  I do thinks to make myself FEEL pretty. Paint my nails. Or style my hair. Send David a few kinky texts at work. Texts I have already written and prepared and saved in a file. Ready for when I need them. Maybe I put clean sheets in our bed.

And sometimes I go to our “special” drawer. A place where we keep our adult toys. I hold one and visualize the things we’ve done with it. I pick up another and another and imagine what I could do with it with David that night.

Sometimes I start to feel a tinge of desire. Of longing. And I begin to get excited for him to get home from work. I lie back on my bed and all of a sudden I feel like crying.

I should not have to work this hard and I should definitely not need to prepare myself like this in order to be intimate with my own husband. So I battle with the thought of stopping my medications.

If I do that, what happens then? A completely different problem arises. The bipolar itself. A whole new kind of strain on our marriage.

Stopping my meds means the depression will surface. I won’t want to get out of bed. I’ll be very irritable and end up causing arguments with my husband over little insignificant things. Without my meds I blow up over everything.

I may become manic. End up spending our mortgage money on dog toys on eBay. I stop sleeping so I don’t even make it to bed for nights on end.

And sex? Yeah! I can’t control myself. I want to be touching him all the time. I need to be near him every minute that he’s home, often causing him frustration because I take away his personal space.

Then we argue.

We get frustrated.

And I get suicidal.

All of this because I stopped my medication so that I could be more intimate with my husband. But instead, the bipolar has made things even worse.

So ultimately, what has more effect on intimacy in my marriage? I don’t exactly have an answer to that. Living with bipolar isn’t easy and there isn’t a single area of my life that isn’t affected. I wake up every morning, afraid. Afraid that he will leave me because intimacy is so complicated for us.

So what would cause more damage to my marriage? Taking the medication or living with untreated bipolar disorder? I’m not sure and I’m not about to find out.

Because thankfully I have an amazing guy who tries his best to understand me and my illness. We communicate openly about intimacy in our relationship and I know that I won’t ever have to stop my medication in order to keep my husband satisfied sexually.

And I hope you never feel the need to do that either.

Surgery in 3 Days

I can’t stop the thoughts. My mind keeps reeling through different scenarios, picturing that cold metal table she will be lying on as they shave the fur from the base of her spine down to her ankle and then make the incision in her skin. While she lies there, her breathing labored, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. I keep imagining things that could happen. The surgeon slipping on the floor and accidentally cutting my girl in some random place on her body, blood pouring out of her. I keep thinking that the anesthetic is going to be too strong in her heart is going to stop. And never start again, ever. I just keep visualizing her lifeless body there on that metal table in that strange room, Without me there to comfort her. The thoughts. I just can’t stop these thoughts.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach is sour. Awful. If they call me with bad news and I answer my phone to hear your voice on the other end telling me that my baby girl did not pull through this surgery, I’m pretty convinced that it will be the end of me.

Dogs, Debt, and Dread

My beautiful brown eyed girl loves snow. Her outdoor playtime has been limited this year though because of her injury. But this time next year our hope is that she will outside, frolicking in snow, as happy as can be. But that’s a long way away yet though.

So right now I’m slowly gathering together what we need to bring to St. John’s with us next week.

At 7am on Monday we will be leaving to make one of the most nerve racking road trips ever. Zoey will be seeing her surgeon, Dr. Bailey, at 1:30pm at the Veterinary Speciality Hospital.

Monday night we will then stay in a hotel. Zoey will be with us that first night. She will have to fast in preparation for Tuesday morning, where she will be admitted to the hospital and will undergo major surgery.

My heart is breaking 💔

No one wants their baby to suffer, especially not me. It’s going to be so hard to leave her in the hospital on Tuesday and walk away from her. It’s going to crush me. I’ve been trying not to think about it because I cry every time.

But this is necessary. Many people have expressed their opinions about the expense of this. That they would never in a million years take out a second mortgage on their house just to get surgery on their dog.

But we aren’t your average family. Zoey is not JUST a dog. She’s my therapy dog. She works well with me to keep me functioning as I struggle to manage life with Bipolar, PTSD, CRPD, and an amputation.

If you found yourself in my situation, what do you think you would do? Be honest now. Would you be willing to go through with a $7,000.00 surgery for your dog/cat?<<<
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A Secret

You don’t need to write some self help book with the intention it’s going to save people, or become Tony Robbins or go build 12 schools in Colombia to save our planet. Do you REALLY want to save our planet?

 Then live your own damn TRUTH!

Speak your truth! Be your truth! Live your truth!

Don’t sit around every day and drink Pepsi and think you’re doing anyone any favors.

The greatest cause of disease is all the emotions that we hold onto that manifest into physical pain in our bodies. If you want to swallow your truth and work, have a job that you hate—it will kill you and that ain’t doing you or your family any favours. 

So how does it heal this world if you do what you love?

 Well, when you do what you love, you shine.

You become happy.

You float like a weightless chipmunk through your days because nothing is heavy anymore. People will walk up to you and when you tell them they will go, “Ahhhhh, that’s why. You’re happy because you do what you love!”

Like its some damn secret that somebody needs to tell everybody else (even though you already know and he knows, and she knows and we all know)

The secret: do what you love!

But it’s a secret so SsHhhhhhh, don’t tell anyone. 

😉

Being Vulnerable-On Purpose

Whether it’s shielding us from the rain with their coats, getting up in the night to check out strange noises or giving that creepy guy a look that tells them to quit staring, there are lots of ways that guys can make us feel safe. When he is in protection mode, he will feel kind of like a super hero. So I have been trying to let my guard down a little bit lately and not try to be Wonder Woman all the time. I try to do everything for myself but I’ve actually come to realize that my hubby actually loves to take care of me and protect me. It makes him feel needed. It makes him feel useful. And it makes him feel like a man. So take it from someone who is just learning this – guys get turned on when they feel superior. Let him feel like you need him to protect you – even if you’re used to doing it all on your own. And just watch what happens. 

You won’t regret it.