If My Husband Can Love Me For Who I Am, Why Can't I?

Well, I've done it this time.  I have successfully alienated all my friends on Facebook by posting a depressing poem, and a painting of myself with my hair on fire, crying tears of blood.  I have let my illness take over.  I am not a person who has schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type.  I AM schizoaffective with bipolar.  Everyday, I remind myself of it.  Whether it's swallowing one of 8 psych medications, or whether it's just feeling depressed or manic, or hearing voices or seeing things that aren't there.  My illness controls me, and I've let it.  Now I've let it creep onto Facebook, and no one knows what to think.  I mean, who knows how to deal with that?  So they stay away.  I don't blame them.  They have to protect themselves.  Hanging around negativity isn't good for anyone.  But sometimes, I just want to hear about their lives, and not talk about how I'm feeling.  I want to hear the positives (or negatives) in their lives.  I want to feel connected.

I joined a group last weekend on Facebook for Schizoaffective people and their loved ones.  It's been great.  I can post and comment and not have to worry about alienating everyone, because everyone there understands.  They get it.  They've been there.

It hasn't helped that my therapist has been out sick the last month with pneumonia.  I missed a month of appointments.  Fortunately she was back this week and I got to see her.  She was still coughing a bit, poor thing.  I felt bad for her.

I made a realization in the last month or so.  I don't hate my life.  Yes we are struggling with some things, but there are a lot more positives than negatives.  I have fresh water, a roof over my head, food to eat, a loving family, my supportive and loving husband, and many many other things.  I do not hate my life.  And I thought that I hated myself.  I even said it to a friend a week ago, who promptly said, "Talk to you later" and hasn't talked to me since.  I don't hate myself either.  But I hate the illness.  I hate the things that come with having it, and the embarrassing things I've done or said as a result of it.  The not having a filter, and saying what I feel.  But it's a part of me, and I have to accept it.  I will take my medications as prescribed, and I will go to all the therapy I can, including groups and support groups, and I will learn to accept who I am.  Because really, if my husband can love me for who I am, why can't I?