I'm really struggling right now.

When I was diagnosed with bipolar earlier this year, my husband talked about it with his family. He doesn't think about things like that; he is a very straightforward and honest person, and he genuinely believed it is not a big deal and it hasn't changed his opinion of me. Which I really appreciate. But I didn't want him to tell his parents, who have already expressed a dislike for me over the years. I wish he would have asked first.

He was going to have lunch with his mom and little sisters (12 and 8) last Monday. He asked if I wanted to go, and I said yes, since I haven't seen them in a long time, and I figured it was a nice, neutral way to reinclude myself, since socializing is very hard for me, especially with people I know find me strange/a bad influence.

His mom told him I was not welcome to the lunch. She thinks I am poison. I'm not allowed to see his sisters again. She thinks I have turned him into a bitter person, ruined his relationship with his religion, and that I have been trying to break him apart from his family.

I'm in shock over it. I've been told a million times in my life that, if anything, I am too nice. They have never even seen me remotely manic. Maybe depressed, but I'm more of a wet sandwich in that situation than angry and depressed, like I can get other times.

We are also dealing with electrical problems in our house, and have basically been scammed. We stupidly paid a guy half up front to rewire our kitchen and fix some wiring in our basement. He came twice and has left the kitchen half unusable, which is where it has been for twelve weeks now. We are just going to have to take the loss and hire another electrician, which will be about a $400-500 difference. It's not much to some people, but we are barely scraping by already.

I feel so worthless. Even though I logically know none of this is really my fault, my brain is absolutely breaking my back. I'm overwhelmed and so, so tired. It feels like every time I feel like I'm getting remotely stable someone comes along and slaps me in the face.

I know I should call my psychiatrist or therapist and let them know how dark my thoughts are, but I can't afford to see either of them until next month. I'm hoping I can just drag my carcass along until then.

Just needed to spill, I guess.