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.