We packed and packed for days on end, sorting out what we had room to keep and what things must be thrown out. Some things with sentimental value had to be thrown away or given away. Emotionally painful.

We pushed all day through 36 years worth of stuff beginning at 6:30 am and stopping at 4:00 pm--I wasn't up to the pace. After 3 days of this insanity, I started to cave and have dark thoughts. The guilt of even having these thoughts again slammed me even more because I finally had reached stability after working hard at it for 8 months. Preparation for this move from NY to Florida was starting to push me near the edge and I cried in my husband's arms on Tuesday because I was depleted of strength, hope and full of exhaustion and anxiety. He could push on and on forever and ever but I couldn't. I felt guilty too--why can't I keep up?

I used to be the one that HE would have to tell "Stop--enough! Tomorrow is another day!". Now I'm the one--"Can we stop now?" He says, "You can stop. Stop. Rest. I'll keep going and get it done. Don't worry."

It's not that I'm worried. I feel guilty even though I know it's the illness that is slowing me down, muddying my ability to think clearly, etc, etc. I just can't keep up physically or with anything that requires organized thinking, unless I'm hypomanic--then I can run circles around everyone and get enormous amounts of work done.

I know I have to accept this life sucking illness is now a part of me but I don't have to like it. I don't have to like it, but I need to find new ways to accomplish my goals or to adjust my goals to my diminished abilities. My abilities aren't gone; things just take longer to accomplish because my energy and thinking are affected. This is easy to say or write down but it takes constant WORK to accomplish. Sometimes I'm tired of working so hard. Maybe if I let the doctor medicate me more like he originally planned, I could just float through life without worry or thought. He didn't want me to be that drugged up--the doses he planned on giving me were normal doses. But I happen to be sensitive to meds--I can only take 1/2 the normal dose and I get the same effect as the full dose. So that's why I say if I let him give me the full dose (and didn't tell him the powerful numbing effect) I could float through life. But noooo. I wanted to be able to just be medicated enough to take the edge off the condition and I wanted to work hard to get well. Of course my pdoc was thrilled as well as apprehensive but he also wanted this to work--we've worked hard together and we've slowly built up success so that he gave his approval for us to finally make the move to Florida! Yay!

Oooh. Am I really ready when I can't even do an equal amount of work to prepare for the move? I know that in reality, yes, I am. I just need to accept that I am slower and my husband is faster. I need to do things more intentionally and he can work well flying by the seat of his pants.

We're different--more different than we used to be. But his love for me hasn't changed. He's learning to protect me from overextending myself without smothering me.

I'm learning to tell him how I feel--when I think I might be overextending, when I feel anxious, when I feel like I'm flying high and fast (he loves this mood ), when I'm feeling dangerously down. It helps me and it helps my dear hubby.

The communication enables us to adapt to each other as best we can at that moment. We clue each other in on how we feel before moods escalate and cause division. In this way we actually grow closer because we understand what is really happening on the inside instead of what it looks like on the outside. I wish and hope for everyone that they can work this out with their spouse or partner or parents, or whoever is important in their life.

So in 2 more days, we'll be in Florida--our new home state. New challenges, new way of life, new relationships (I'm not that good at this), new friends (this either), new places to explore.

So now I pray that I will find my life purpose. My kids are all men, one is a husband and father. So my role is different and it is time I find a new life purpose. My pdoc assured me I do have one and will find it--he knows it for certain. He is not one to just say something to make you feel good. He has hurt me at times so I believe that he truly believes in me--we've found the road to my healing together and I know I'm still on that road.

Enough--I've said enough tonight.