The Fanatic’s Dilemma?

Somewhere along this journey of life I was faced with emotional challenges. It was undiagnosed for a long time in my late teens to early 20’s. I had found alcohol and I was away at college. But my inability to communicate my emotional instability, fears and feeling different was washed down with booze. My only way of communication was in written form. I wrote a note to my dorm supervisor hinting I was suicidal. I signed it anonymously but he knew it was me. I want to say this is the first time I experienced ideation.
Ironically, in my senior year of high school a friend of mine was hospitalized for psychiatric issues. I knew nothing about this world. I went to visit her and felt so comfortable there. The idea that people were there to listen to me without judgement, without telling me what I should be doing, there was room for me just to be me,pressure free, was so appealing.

Many years later I would wind up in such a place several different times. I am lucky I have had positive experiences for the most part.
There is a point of desperation I hit. Or maybe it hits me. I’m not entirely sure. I am digging my heels in, keeping my nose to the grindstone, convincing myself how detrimental it would be to my agency to concede I need help. I work so hard in my place of work to look productive which means I am still functional, which means I still have my integrity in tack. I struggle with the thought of someone else needing to pick up my slack. I have convinced myself my role is so important that to take time off now would be disastrous. Never mind in the work world there will never be a good time.

All the effort and energy it takes to get up and get to work, follow through on projects, take phone calls from disgruntled parents and vendors, not cry, not get bowled over with anxiety, not freeze in fear, and keep secrets from my husband comes pouring out at some point. Then I quickly become the person I am trying to avoid. This occurred just yesterday. I am truly dumbfounded by my behavior.
I awoke after my husband. We always meet for coffee in the office to start the day. The sun was bright as I got up and felt grateful for it, so much so I was going to sing a little song to him. However, as I fed the cats and got my coffee I forgot about the song. I was working on my computer and he on his. Everything was as it always is. We had talked about plans last night for today. He mentioned an email he received from a mutual friend, well rather my friend. I apparently had some reaction on my face, I don’t personally know what it was, but I was off to the races. I still think he had a part but he doesn’t agree so much. Regardless the events that unfolded, specifically my behavior is irrational and out of control. I ran the gamut, yelling, screaming, throwing things, crying, sobbing, attempting to leave the house, went back to bed twice. I am still confused how it all happened. What in me set off a fire storm. I could not calm down for hours. Completely out of control. Unable to pull back or pull out.

The day was ruined. My husband at a loss and concerned for our marriage, as well as completely confused. He is stressed constantly and walking on egg shells each day. Guilt upon more guilt weighs me down. Shame already crushing me. Anger seething in me. Hatred of myself and hatred of this bipolar disorder engulfing me. What is left? Discouraged, alone, scared, and hopeless. Why should a person like me exist to cause immense pain in others. This kills me as I love this man. I am a compassionate, patient loving person, at least I was. I am different now.
I can be impulsive. Which is dangerous. He knows this and refused to let me leave the house. I just needed out. Needed to be alone. Truthfully I didn’t know what I needed. I was pacing,so full of angst and disgust with myself. My memory is so poor that I can’t recall the events of the morning so I can point some fingers at him. Regardless, the monster that was unleashed is not someone I want to be for even a minute. That person is my father. He is angry and has no compassion for others. He has a short fuse and points fingers at others first. I own the unacceptable way I handled things. It hurts me. It hurts my husband.
I feel like I lost my mind yesterday and another piece of my fragile self. I barely know who I am on the cusp of turning 40 years old. I can’t decipher myself from my illness. Is this who I have truly become? Was this outburst due to bipolar disorder? Does it even matter?

123 RV. Please give yourself permission to forgive yourself