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.

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.  

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.