For fun? I play with my kids, spend time with my husband, write, read, watch movies, travel when I can, get involved with things at church, spend time with friends. And that's why I don't get this need to hurt myself or the fleeting suicidal thoughts. My life is truly fantastic. I couldn't ask for a better life. Yet here I am, contemplating how to get through the next time I want to hurt myself without doing anything, and wondering why the hell I got stuck with being bipolar. My husband chalks some of this up to being verbally abused as a child, being in abusive relationships later and being taught that it wasn't okay to show I was anything other than happy or positive. Regardless---I fail to see how I can feel this way and at the same time know and acknowledge that there is no reason for me to feel this way other than being bipolar. It doesn't make sense and that's why I tend to be resistant to treatment beyond seeing my psych once per month and taking some pills. Compared to a lot of people I have nothing to complain about. Feeling this way makes me feel like a spoiled brat who needs their rear end kicked.

I did tell him flat out that I need time to myself once per week. By time to myself I mean leaving the house, getting out without the kids and doing something I want to do, be it wander around the art museum or sit at the park and read a book. He said he thinks it's a good idea but we'll see. Generally he doesn't like to keep the kids on his own unless he has to.