It’s been awhile since I’ve posted and there are far too many reasons to explain why. Ultimately, I am finding that blogging is getting harder instead of easier. I realized that while I started this blog as an attempt to try and explore myself and write my own story, that instead I ended up writing the story of my marriage. Which, I will never understand, has been easier. The story of my bipolar marriage is not a fun one to tell, I struggle every day with what my love for my husband means and what his love for me means. I struggle with the concept of a soul mate… whether mine really does exist out there. I struggle with the lack of solid support in my life, I struggle with strength of self. I struggle with the idea that I have settled for a life less than what I imagined it should be. A very good friend remarked that having an oppressive marriage feels at times like your life is being stolen away from you, day by day, hour by hour. I’ve felt that way.
In the beginning of my blog journey, I wanted to to explore myself. I wanted to tell my stories. I didn’t want to harp and hound my marital circumstances. I don’t think they will change, regardless of what drastic measures do or do not happen. I don’t think my marriage is ever going to change. I think this is the life I chose for myself and am still choosing to live in for the moment and so that I need to make the most of it. I don’t mean this quite as cliche as it sounds. It just is. I’ve not accepted inexcusable behavior, nor will I fight for myself any less. I am a different, stronger person than I was when I met my husband and that is irreversible.
For now, I need to stop focusing on what I can’t change. I need to focus on what I can change. The blog was titled “the colors of me” because I wanted to tell my stories. I have so many stories to tell. Telling them will no doubt bring me closer to myself. I need to be there, I need to understand what makes my heart beat before I go blaming someone else for not making it beat stronger. My strength needs to come from within.
I have come a long way in my search for understanding. I’m still young and I have a long life ahead of me. I also have a past that is filled with family secrets, denial, shame, fear, hypocrisy, tragedy, and abuse. I need to write these stories down. I’ve told them… many times… to many friends and therapists. I don’t think I’ve ever told them to myself… so I’m going to make a promise to myself to start telling myself these stories in an effort to get to know myself through them. They are ugly stories, but they are necessary truths that I must embrace.