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......