Drowning in debt

I feel like I am drowning. Like I am on the verge of losing it. On the verge of a mental breakdown. There are so many things I stress about lately. Mostly financial issues. We have so much debt, and it is really, really depressing. Especially when there is almost nothing else we can do to pay it down.

As if having a mortgage and car payment isn't enough, we owe about $25,500 in credit card debt. Oh, and now we also owe my mother-in-law $1,000. And it's a terrible catch-22. We pay so much in credit card debt, that we don't have money for groceries. So, we pay for groceries with credit cards. It's almost impossible to see any light at the end of the tunnel, since we only seem to be digging ourselves a really deep hole.

How did we get here? That's easy. Two big reasons, and they both have to do with me, and me alone. One thing is all of the doctor co-pays, medical tests, and prescriptions I have to dish out for. I don't have enough in my budget to allow for all of that. I mean, I pay out the rear for health insurance every month, and yet my deductible is $1500 and I have high copays. How is that fair? Especially with how many different doctors I see, and how often. It's ridiculous.

The second reason is my compulsive spending and shopping sprees. When I am manic, the first thing I seem to do is go spend money I don't have. Which is why my credit cards are pretty much maxed out. People who are not bipolar seem to think, "Well, that's easy. Just stop spending." Yeah? No way! I never would have thought of that on my own. I mean, come on! Yes, I know that seems like an easy solution. And when I am not manic, I don't spend. I recognize the need to not spend, and I stick to it. But the thing about being manic, at least for me, is that I lose that sense of  reality. Of consequences. I don't think ahead. I don't stop and think, "I shouldn't buy this because I don't have money." In fact, I don't think at all. I just buy things (mostly music, dvds, and clothes) because I want those things, and it will make me feel good at that moment. And it is really hard to recognize it at first. It usually isn't until after I've spend a couple hundred dollars that it hits me that maybe I'm manic. Then I'll sit down and really think about my actions and attitude for the past few days or weeks, and usually then I realize that yeah, I am manic. But of course, by then, it's too late. Damage is done, money is gone.

I've gotten a little better at trying to stop myself before I spend too much. I've made a self-imposed rule that I must ask my husband first before I buy anything that is over $20. And usually, knowing I need this "permission" is enough to stop me and make me think. But other times, I really don't care, and I do it anyway. It's so frustrating, knowing that I am causing all of this stress with our finances because of my both my physical AND mental health. I keep trying to control myself when I become manic. But it's not easy, because I like when I am manic. I feel happy. Ok, I also feel highly agitated and have a quick temper too, but I love the I'm-happy-and-I-don't-care feeling. I love that I am able to be myself around others, and converse with them without feeling such low self worth, always wondering what people think of me. And another plus is that my house always gets a little cleaner when I'm manic. But the spending part of being manic, that is what is hurting us the most.

I feel like such a burden, monetarily as well as emotionally. And it hurts a lot to know that. I don't want to be a burden. Especially to those I love. And when I fall into depression, that feeling weighs down on me so heavily. It just ends up being one of the reasons why I feel like I don't deserve what I have, and that I don't deserve to live. Not if I am nothing but a burden.

I like being manic, but I hate the over-spending that inevitably results from it. I am tired of regretting past actions and decisions. I am tired of feeling so bad because the insurmountable debt we are in is mostly my fault.

My mother's denial

So, I talked to my mother today on the phone. For 47 minutes. Most of which, was her lecturing me on what to do to feel better, or do better. I know she does this because she cares about me. But it's getting to the point where I am beginning to dread talking to her on the phone. Because the conversation always turns to this. Every time. For the past 4-5 years now.

See, now, I have been bipolar for about 5 years. I was officially diagnosed around 4 years ago. So, this condition is nothing new. I've come to grips with it. I've accepted it, and I try really hard to deal with it to the best of my ability. But my mother, that's a different story. She is still in complete denial that anything is really wrong with me. She refuses to accept the fact that I have a mental illness. Don't get me wrong, I am sure it is very difficult to accept that your child has something like that wrong with them. But this is getting a little ridiculous.

Today she went on a rampage about how my depression is probably because of the antidepressants I am on. Or maybe I need to think more positive, focus on positive things. Cut down on the carbs. Eat less meat. No more chocolate, because that can cause depression. I should exercise more. Maybe its just my thyroid causing depression. What about natural remedies? Etc. And somehow all these things will answer all my problems. It's so simple to fix, according to her. (I don't even know where she gets some of her information really)

She even tries to downplay the whole situation. She told me today that "we all have ups and downs. we all get depressed at one time or another". She refuses to listen to me and what I say. I try my best to explain exactly what my mood swings are like... that it's not as simple as being happy one minute and sad or down the next. I try to explain to her that the way I feel is not normal, even for me. And that that is how I know there is something more wrong to me than just feeling blue. I try to explain that when I am manic or very depressed, all sense of reason seems to go right out the window. I do and say stupid things I wouldn't normally do. Almost as if it wasn't me at all. I mean, even after the fact, it all just seems like a really bad nightmare, because it IS so contrary to the "real" me. I don't know how else to describe it.

What makes it more difficult for me to get her to understand all this, though, is that she doesn't know all the details of my extreme manic state and the extremes of my depressive states. If she knew the terrible things I've done while manic, the way I've really messed up my life, the way I act or react to things... Or if she knew just how depressed and suicidal I get, and how often, just maybe she would see that I am bipolar. But then again, maybe not, because she refuses to see it even now. I am sure she would make up some sort of excuse for my extreme behavior if she could.

The whole thing just stresses me out so much. There are a couple of others who know my situation, and they seem to understand (to the best of their ability) what's going on with me. And it helps so much to know there are a few people I can really rely on who will always be there for me, through the good times as well as the bad (and very bad) times. Even though these few people don't really know what it's like to be like this, I cherish these people for taking the time to try and help me, comfort me, and encourage me. Because it really is more difficult to deal with than the average person would think.

But especially, as long as my love tries his best to understand and be sympathetic towards my problems, and tries to really understand the complexity that is bipolar disorder, I'll be okay. I know I am in good hands and that he loves and cares about me.