down

I truly believe my bipolar husband is currently depressed.  He is struggling with multiple emotional pulls.  There are legitimate reasons for him to be down.

I very much want to help him.  And I can't seem to figure out how.  I ask how he's feeling.  He doesn't seem to want to discuss it much. 

I find myself in the throws of feeling horrible myself.  Partly because of my own insecurities in dealing with his sadness.  Partly because our marriage is in a rough place.  I am confused. I am frightened. 

I keep thinking he'll move out of this darkness.  He seems to want to and seems to be taking steps to help himself move out.  Which I'm thankful for. 

Yet I long to help him.  And I'm not sure if I can.  I long to be his wife, not just in the [he lives with me and we're technically married sense] but in the [I will confide in you sense].  The {for better or for worse} type of thing.

hurt

This post is different, as most, if not all entries I've previously posted have to do with being a bipolar spouse.  My current struggle might or might be related to this subject.  My guess is, like just about every marital issue when you're married to a person with bipolar, there is at least some chance the bipolar issue has something to do with it.

Anyway, my husband has decided to fervently pursue a "best friend" relationship with another woman.  She is his coworker.  They have become good friends.  I have worked through A LOT and have accepted they are going to be friends.  Whether or not I am always comfortable with it.

The thing is, he has researched, developed a list, and is all absorbed in making this friendship the strongest it can be.  Which is nice.  It is to be commended, right?  Everybody needs friends and all that. 

Meanwhile, our marriage is in the shitter.  We are in agreement to hang in there a few years until our kids are through a few life changes.  But he has voiced not seeing a reason to expect things will improve.  In other words, I don't think he has a list going on how to improve OUR relationship.  He's hurt.  He's tired. 

I'm trying to live with the fact he's passionate about strengthening his friendship with another female, all the while heartbroken that he's not passionate about trying to strengthen our marriage.  Their friendship is platonic.  I'm not concerned he's going to have sex with her.  I'm concerned that he is moving from being my husband and best friend, to being her best friend.  That she is everyday, becoming more of his confidant, support and person to have fun with.

And that hurts.  It's hard not to be jealous, even though I don't want to be.  It's hard not to be an emotional wreck.  It's a mess for me and I don't know what to do.

Today I begin counseling.  My husband does not want to go along.  I'll be on my own.  I hope it helps.  Helps me cope and understand.

Ideally, I'd like to restore the relationship with my husband and all the while, he and she remain friends.  I'd like to be better friends with her.  I'd like for her husband to join the three of us and we go out as couples. I'd like to live day to day without feeling hurt.    

shame

I am not ashamed by husband is bipolar.  On the contrary, I'm ashamed that I cannot be a better wife to him. 

I am insecure and I fail.  A lot. He certainly could use someone much different from me.

Last week, a friend told me I'm strong.  I have the strength to manage.  To get through.  This particular friend does not know my husband is bipolar.  Therefore, I don't know if he'd confirm I have enough strength to actually navigate this life.

I have read enough Brene Brown to know shame is wrong.  I shouldn't feel it.  I should discard it.  But, the reality is, shame is there.  Ever present.  Telling me I am a failure.  Not just on one occasion.  But as a totality. 

I imagine these are common feelings for the bipolar spouse. 

if I was...

I feel horrible for admitting it, but most of the time I believe my husband would be better off if I was dead.
I don't know how many of our marital issues have to do with him being bipolar.  I accept the blame for much.  There are things we can't seem to work through.  He doesn't believe I'll ever change.  I try to change.  I don't know if he believes I try.  He doesn't believe it's possible for me to change.  I could go on and on but it doesn't matter to you, the reader.  You don't know me so it's impossible for you to analyze my situation without me giving you intimate details of the last 24+ years.

The fact is this.  I find myself wishing I could contract a life threatening illness and die.  Cancer, a brain tumor....something quick.  A chance to say good bye to my children.  A chance for my husband to be the noble husband and show his devotion.  Then it would end.  The kids would go on.  He would go on.  They would be better off because they'd be free of the fears of us imploding.

I sometimes wish I'd be hit by a car and instantly gone.  But it would be better to say good bye.  It would be better for it to be no fault of my own or anyone else's.  Suicide is something I could never do.  The people I love the most would blame themselves and question.  Or blame each other which would be horrible.

The trouble with the illness issue is I'm extremely healthy physically.  I'm middle aged and have no signs of any serious problems.  I realize that could change overnight.  I doubt it will.  I've always felt I'll live to be near 90.  I come from a family of long living women.

Truthfully, I adore my husband.  I love him completely.  I don't think he believes that.  He thinks I love the security of having him around.  That I love what he provides.  I don't know how to prove to him that's not the case.  It's an extremely difficult place to be.

alone

If I had to choose one word to describe how I feel as the spouse of a bipolar person, the word I'd choose is:

alone.

Or maybe lonely.  I'm indecisive, but you get the point.

I so often feel like there is no one who understands my perspective, no one who comprehends what our life is like. 

It's not that we have a bad life, but it's different.  Because of the moods.  The swings.  The meds.  The fact my husband thinks about suicide and his mind races.  Unless others know something I don't, I don't think that's what the average spouse deals with.

If my husband had diabetes, I'd tell people.  It would come up in conversation.  "I'd bake a pie, but my husband has diabetes."  That sort of thing.  If he had another serious physical ailment, I'd talk about it with coworkers, family, friends.  But because the illness is mental, it's not something I bring up.  Because I've found people have about 10,000 differing opinions about mental illness.  Everyone seems to be an expert.

Truthfully, I'm not one to openly discuss my feelings.  So I'm fine most of the time keeping this inside.  Yet I, at times, find myself alone, feeling like no one on the earth realizes what my last few months have been like.  

a year ago

A year ago I began this blog.  November 9, 2012.  From the stats listed, not too many have checked it out.  Which is fine.  I mostly meant it to be therapeutic. I haven't published an entry since April.

Actually, that's wrong.  I published an entry September 9.  Sometime in the early hours of September 10, I deleted it.  Yes, I got up in the middle of the night and erased the entry.  I tried to revive it out of the realms of cyberspace over the next few days, to no avail.  Which is probably for the best.  I called my husband an asshole in it.  And myself naive and stupid. 

Why today do I decide to record something?  I don't know.  Possibly because I feel so overtly alone in this.  My husband has people in his life (they're actually in both of our lives) who know he's bipolar.  People at work.  Friends outside.  Family members now.  But me, I have no one really to discuss it with.  No one to say, "Hey, I feel really crappy today because I don't know how to react to my husband."  I wish that could change. 

So many times I feel insecure and I'm not sure if it has anything to do with having a bipolar spouse or if it's simply because I'm a mess.  I question whether my husband wouldn't be better off without me in his life.  Will that ever change?  I hope so.

It takes a lot just to not sit in my closet and cry.  Sometimes I just wish I could cry because tears won't come.

I want to make myself record more.  Share more here.  Because at least my thoughts come out.  And maybe someday someone will offer a word of encouragement, which is extremely rare for me to receive.  Probably because no one knows I need it......

sanity is overrated

In my ever excessive internet searching I came across this today:

Why we need more mentally ill leaders

I have already reserved at my library the book the article is referring to, A First-Rate Madness.  I find this all very interesting. 

I've heard for years about the plight of the mega creative.  I've had a pseudo, albeit strange because he's been dead for 123 years, crush on Vincent van Gogh for quite some time.  Yes, he was mentally ill. 

We like to think [at least I do], and I honestly believe it's true.....  Often creative people suffer from depression and other disorders of the mind that help them create.  Musicians, artists, etc.  But the leaders?  The presidents and generals and people at the front of the pack?

A confession:  I adore Winston Churchill.  Not that I know all that much about him.  But I do know this.  He navigated the people of Great Britain through World War II.  Bombings, threats, attacks, etc.  And I recently came to realize he suffered from mental illness.  So I reserved one of his biographies too. 

Perhaps I'm attracted to the mentally unstable.  Maybe we all are.  Maybe, as the above article revealed, we need the mentally unstable to lead us. 

I suppose I find this interesting because my husband, for much of our married life, has been a leader in various roles.  Often in a work related role, sometimes in the community.  He has many of what society deems as leadership characteristics.  Although, somewhat ironically, I doubt society considers having bipolar as a strength in a leader. 

I find this reassuring.  It tells me that all of the years spent leading and/or exercising those qualities weren't in vain.  He was doing what comes naturally.  There's a place for people like my husband, and it might just be at the front, not hiding in the back, ashamed.  I think that's good news. 

Don't get me wrong, this will not lead me to apply unnecessary expectations and hopes of grandeur.  I'm not looking to become the wife of the next manic mayor. 

It simply builds my case [purely my opinion, mind you] that those who we label as mentally ill, might just be better suited for living than those we label as healthy. 

who we are

I'm a firm believer we are the products of our environment.  While I'm not a doctor or researcher or scientist, my theory is we carry part of our parents inside us.  If that's the case, we carry a piece of our grandparents, too.  And on back through our lineage.  Stuff is passed down, whether cognitively or unbeknownst.  At least that's my opinion, whatever it's worth.

My husband's paternal grandpa died today.  He was his last remaining grandparent.  My husband and this grandpa were not particularly close.  Yet, I can't help to think part of the reason my husband is who he is, is because of who his grandfather was. 

My husband's relationship with his father is strained, at best.  I'm not sure his father realizes it is strained.  I find myself blaming his dad for much of the bipolar{ness} my husband faces.  Whether that's valid, I don't know.  Maybe one has to place blame somewhere, so why not?

Due to the passing of Grandpa, there will be more communication amongst the family.  My husband's dad will want to talk, discuss plans, share.  And my husband will not want to accept the calls.  {His dad lives across the country}  My husband will struggle; I won't know how to respond.  That's what the next few days will bring.  Questions, concerns, etc. 

Part of life that most everyone faces at some point, yet it seems so magnified when bipolar comes into play.  

bright

I'm a GOOGLER.  Meaning I, throughout the day, when a random question pops into my head..... GOOGLE it. 

This afternoon, I got to pondering my husband's recent thoughts about all the jobs he's held [there have been many] and his oft bored-ness at work.  He is a fast worker, and quite often finds himself sitting around with little to do.  Which led me to think about his many positions, many of which have not required a great deal of intelligence.  Oh, many of those hiring him wanted someone who is bright.  They insisted they were looking for an organized, Type A, driven person who would not only make changes, but be genuinely ecstatic about making them.  Many of his jobs have been in the faith based non-profit sector.  He's had many pastoral positions as well as others in the [helping others] field.  And no offense to the ministerial types in the crowd, but I've learned through the years, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to preach a sermon, lead worship, serve a meal or hold a canned food drive.  Most of the population's straight A students become something else.

Which leads me to the point of this entry.  I GOOGLED "intelligence and bipolar" with the offbeat thought that perhaps most of the bipolar crowd is also the straight A crowd.  Or those that fall into the above average intelligence crowd.  It made sense to me, but, I'm not a therapist or scientist or actual research professional.  Here's the first article that came up:

Intelligence Linked to Bipolar Disorder

I have not taken the time to read this article in depth.  I plan to come back to it.  But a brief skim revealed there is a connection.  A link between intelligence and bipolar disorder. 

I'm sure to some it would seem I'm bragging about my husband and his intellect.  I'm really not.  I'm being factual.  My husband got accepted into the US Naval Academy when it was one of the most difficult schools, if not the most, difficult academic institution to get into.  Despite his enjoyment of making people believe he's not very smart, he truly is.  And many of his struggles through our years together have had to do with unmet [supposed] potential.  Which in my understanding, is typical of the talented. 

I will delve into this further.  I find it interesting.  And if nothing else, I feel it offers some reasoning as to why my husband is bipolar.



 

aging parents

My husband is not much of a comforter.  I'm not sure if it's a characteristic of being bipolar.  He's quite matter-of-fact, which I think has more to do with his Midwestern childhood and his personality.  He's emotional.  He frequently cries during movies and tv programs.  His love for our children is apparent and obvious.  Yet, outside of our immediate family, he doesn't tend to show much sympathy.

Let me get to what I want to get at.....  I've reached middle age.  My parents have reached their senior years.  I realize a call could come at any time with bad news.  Or news of the end.  A week and a half ago my sister called telling me of a situation with my dad.  He's fine now.  But he did visit the hospital in an ambulance. 

Monday I found out through social media a high school teacher, a peer and acquaintance of my father passed away.  A fellow coach; well liked by his students.  All too similar to my dad's story.  A few months ago the pastor of my home church throughout my teen years died.  A friend's dad passed last week. 

I continue to hear stories of other dads [and moms] who pass.  And it makes me slightly fearful of what it will be like when it happens to my family. 

I live far away from my parents.  Growing up, my dad was rarely ill.  He never took sick days.  But now, now he's older and life has caught up.  And I realize losing him will be hard and he'll most likely go before my mother because men usually do and he's four years older than her.  And I don't know if my husband will be the comfort I will need.  I fear I will have to face this somewhat alone. 

My husband's relationship with his dad is not good.  He doesn't think of his father the way I think of mine.  So, while I believe he'll be kind and supportive and drive me to the airport......  I don't know if he will truly understand the loss.  Or what I need. 

That's really what I hate about bipolar disorder.  It robs us of what we need.  Because of it, I feel selfish if I desire another response, different from what I get. 

So I'm trying to prepare myself, bit by bit.  Trying to be ready, just in case something bad happens during a not so good season. 

if you leave

I loved that song in high school.  It's one of my favorite's from the 1980s. Since my last entry was a song title, why not this one?

In actuality, I chose "if you leave" because lately I've been thinking about that very thing.  What if my husband leaves?

Two years ago at this time, we were in the process of selling a home and buying another.  We were moving across town, and in many ways starting a new chapter in our lives. 

I remember the morning.  We'd already packed most of our furniture into a POD.  We'd boxed nearly everything else.  We awoke and my husband announced he'd had enough.  He was done.  It hit me somewhat out of the blue.  It probably shouldn't have, as we'd been through a similar situation on Christmas Eve, just about a month before. 

An announcement that our marriage was over.  He was headed someplace else.  Whether figuratively or literally, I wasn't sure. 

Thankfully, both of these instances lasted less than a day.  He spoke to someone who helped him see things a bit more clearly.  He realized the enormity of what he was thinking about. 

But the emotional toll on me was huge.  I tend to piece myself together, to move on, to simply be thankful we got through the rough day.  And I now find myself wondering if it will happen again.  If he will truly leave.  Move out, escape, buy a ticket across the world.  Find someone else. 

Realistically, I know this is a slim possibility.  These episodes happened before he was diagnosed as bipolar.  We better know what to look for now.  He has professionals he can call or meet with.  It's not just me and whoever I can get on the phone. 

Yet it can be so frightenly difficult, wondering if a morning will begin with normalcy.  Or with a, "I'll pack a bag at lunch.  I won't be here when you get home from work."

It's not that I constantly dwell on this.  I suppose it's mainly the time of year.  An anniversary of sorts.  Two years removed from the last worst day. 

losing religion/gaining it too

I recently came across this:

It's a video of REM's song, Losing My Religion, done in a major key, as opposed to the minor the original was done in. While the song is not technically about losing one's religion, or even religious beliefs, it did bring to mind the changes my husband and I have faced worship-wise since he was diagnosed. 

These people who obviously have a great deal of time on their hands have taken the sad, melancholy type sound of the original song and made it perkier, so to speak.  Honestly, I really like the first one the best, but stick with me.  The point I'm trying to make is that we (my husband and I) for years and years were part of a worship system that said we must be happy, we must be relational, we must reach out to others, despite our own personal situation.  We were leaders in that type of setting.  We were preachers really, my husband literally, me figuratively, in a system that conveyed "in with the new, out with the old".  As in practices.  As in routine.  As in hymn singing and mundane, rote liturgy. A movement of people supposedly called to take the old, minor sounding routine and make it into something new and vibrant.

Then, almost suddenly for me, I came to realize that dark, rock show worship services with forceful worship leaders and driving drums wasn't really what was best for my husband.  Sure, on some days it was fine.  But if he enters a worship center with an already existing headache, which for him is common, the flashing lights and booming sound is not the best recipe for successful, heart felt worship.  Today's church is so focused on the emotional.  Worship leaders and pastors push people to some experiential happening.  Then they wrap it up and send folks on their way.

My husband and I have ventured away form this type of worship.  We've begun meeting as a family in our home on Sundays.  Just my husband, me and our two teenagers.  We vary what we do a bit, depending on the season and the week.

Sometimes we attend a downtown Episcopal church.  It's quite different of an environment than we grew up in or have previously been a part of as adults.  It offers a routine though, which seems good for my husband.  There are no surprises.  It's all laid out there on the program.  Same order, every week.  No one lays their hands on us.  No one yells or tries to conjure up anything.

I like that this particular church is light and bright, not dark.  It looks like a church.  While I'm there, I can focus on being there.  To me, it conveys the light of Christ and I never feel like we're focusing on one person or speaker, but on scripture and God. 

I find it difficult to discuss our current "religious experience" though.  Just today, two coworkers at different times asked me where we were attending.  Working in a Christian organization tends to lend itself to these discussions.  My reply was met enthusiastically by one coworker.  The other gave me the sense he thought we were off kilter.  If he only knew.......

Honestly, I could write for hours on our past church experiences:  the good/bad/ugly.   But right now, at this time in our lives, what we're doing is working for us and we're comfortable.  I wish I could be more secure in that.  I wish others (coworkers/family/etc) were more accepting. 

Before the bipolar diagnosis, I'd never considered that modern worship wasn't necessarily the best scenario for everyone.  Not to mention, I'm learning that for me, an introvert, the way I've experienced church in the past has left me unhappy, uncomfortable and feeling like I didn't measure up.  I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind.

empathy

I've heard this woman described before and she came up again in a meeting conversation.  I work with people who work with families of high need kids.  I don't get a lot of contact with the families, due to my position, but I feel like I know many of them in an acquaintance type way due to all that I hear about them.

The woman whose issues were deliberated on today is, from what I gather (and mind you I'm far from an expert), mentally unstable.  There's more to it than selfishness or bad parenting skills.  She is certifiably in need.  Or at least that's my opinion.

I realize we live in a world where a lot of people are just plain mean.  A lot of mothers are horrific at mothering and don't give a flying rat's ass about their kids.  But, I want to give this woman the benefit of the doubt and imagine she simply needs a doctor.   She doesn't have the money or the means or probably the desire to visit a psychologist or counselor who could steer her in the right direction. 

What gets me is there are probably many, as in an unfathomable number, of women and men facing this same type of scenario.  They're in a crappy domestic situation.  Their childhood maybe wasn't so lovely.  They have no one to rely on.  And they might not even have a clue that what they're feeling is an abnormality that can be helped. 

During the meeting, part of me wanted to interrupt and say something to the effect of:

"Friends, this may come as a surprise, but someone close to me is bipolar and I think this woman that we're discussing just might be too.  Or have some sort of manic issue or at least a good reason to get checked out.  How can we help get her to that point?  Sure, we care about her kids.  Sure, she seems mega selfish and sinful and ridiculous.  But, we don't know exactly what's going on inside her head."

I didn't say that.  And I don't regret not saying it, because I'm not certain it was the correct thing to say.  But I do wish there was more hope for people.

our girl

I go back and forth.  Our 14 year old daughter is moody.  I don't know if she's moody because all 14 year old girls are moody.  Or if she's moody because she has other issues.  She is difficult to talk with when she's in "a mood".  But again, so are all 14 year old girls.

I don't want to miss something.  I don't want to find out, years from now, we should have taken her to a counselor.  I don't want her to suffer if there's help to be found.

Conversely, if she's simply being a little jerk, acting selfish and purposefully temperamental, I want her to take a deep breath and get over it. 

I'm afraid confronting her with the possibility of seeking counseling would throw her into a place I don't want her to go.  I imagine her reacting as though we think she's nuts.  Which we don't. 

Yet, with a father who's been diagnosed as bipolar, I wonder if simply seeking a few answers isn't out of the question.  Perhaps it's the wise thing to do.  She has his personality, many of his behaviors, his characteristics, etc. 

Again though, I wrestle.  I remember being moody at her age; lashing out at my parents.  I remember feeling depressed, lonely, upset.  Even into my adult years I have struggled with staying "up".  Maybe I need counseling too.  Maybe all of us have issues and we should accept it.

People are so fragile.  I don't want to damage her psyche.  Yet I want to help.  I so desperately want to help.

just when

Just when I believe I'm a good wife.  Just when I believe I'm supportive.  Just when I believe we have all of this under control, I realize that I'm not so great and there's no controlling any of this. 

When I think everything's okay, I find out maybe it's not.  When I think we're living a fairly normal life, I realize it could all change very quickly. 

I am very unsuited for this role.  I am far too naive and unable to deal with reality. 

health care conundrum

My husband recently switched jobs, which was a really good thing, for a myriad of reasons. 

But, moving back into the not-for-profit world where the idea is you help people, is not always helpful to the actually HELPERS.

In other words, the employee benefits are not great. 

Without going into all of the nitty gritty details, I will say this:

The health care world does not seem to care about the world's health.  Especially the world's mental health.

Navigating how to best take care of yourself when you realize you're bipolar is not easy.  I've witnessed that.  But navigating this new way of life when your health insurance benefits are lacking, well, that's a recipe for disaster (aka manic episodes, breakdowns, etc.).

I realized in 2012 there are many, many people out there who are suffering from mental issues.  Some are extremely serious and life threatening.  Some are minor day to day, but can become huge if left undisturbed. 

It's frustrating.  Complaining doesn't help.  There's already a huge contingency of people lobbying for better health care.  Joining them most likely won't do any good in our particular situation. 

So, I'll continue hoping and praying we'll get through this minor glitch and he'll be comfortably sharing with his therapist on a regular basis soon.  Until then, well, it's hoping and praying.......

fathers daughters mothers sons

Last evening our daughter had a breakdown, of sorts.  After being told how to handle a particular situation she'd mentioned (that really wasn't a huge deal), she started crying.  Right at the dinner table.  My husband and I immediately went into sympathetic parent mode, trying to decipher what was wrong.  I asked question after question, trying to figure out how we'd gotten to this point.

We never determined what the issue was.

Was she tired?  Overwhelmed?  Worried?  She'd seemed alright earlier in the day.

After my husband and I turned out the lights in our bedroom, ready for sleep, our daughter knocked on our door asking to come in.  I was hoping she was now ready to share what she was feeling and I'm guessing my husband was too. 

But alas, no....  She had found out about an internet sale and was interested in purchasing a shirt.  She showed us a picture of it.  It wasn't the greatest deal, plus the shirt was totally out of character for her.  It wasn't something I'd see her as wearing.  It was almost like she needed to make this purchase to boost her mood.  We've been through this before with her.  She likes to shop; she likes new things.  Especially fashionable things.

What I'm getting at is this:  My daughter and husband share a very similar disposition.  He's bipolar.  What if she is too?  At what point should my curiosity become concern?  I would never, ever want to alarm her and cause her to stress about something that just isn't the case.  Maybe she's just a moody, emotional teenage girl.  But what if it's something more? 

put it out there?

I saw it first thing on Facebook this morning.  One of my coworkers made an announcement:  over 20 years ago he was molested.  Now he's a thirty-something adult.  A husband, father, coach, chaplain, preacher.... For whatever reason, he decided the New Year holiday was the time to share this with the general public.  I'm happy for him, that he felt the freedom and peace to do this.

Sometimes I wonder if it would be better if my husband would do such a thing:  "Hello world, I'm bipolar."  Of course, it would be up to him; his decision.  I'm curious if the rush of freedom is worth it. The putting it all out there, without shame or remorse.  "This is who I am."  Or for me, "this is who my husband is, and therefore who our family is."

I've never made such a declaration.  Yet I'm curious.  Will the day ever come when he will?  Will I be ready?  Will I handle the questions and comments well?  Or will it always be a private piece of our lives?

Today I'm fine with how it is.  But again, there might come a day when he isn't.  When he puts it out there, for all to know.