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.