A Flower Unfolding

It’s been awhile since I posted a blog, and I have really missed it!  Things have been super busy around here, as things sometimes are.   

I’ve recently been doing a little research for a series of articles I’m preparing to publish on Suite101, and ran across some very valuable information that could benefit a lot of folks. 

I feel like I know quite a bit about bipolar disorder.  I’ve researched books and websites and talked to many people who know the subject well since my husband was diagnosed in 2008.  However, even I was a little surprised to find some of this information.

Did you know…?

Ø  2.6% of the US adult population has either bipolar 1 or 2

Ø  82.9% of these cases are deemed severe

Ø  Only 48.8% of them are receiving treatment, and of those, 38.8% of folks only get a minimal amount of help

Ø  In 2007, suicide was the fourth leading cause of death in the US of people between the ages 18 to 65

Ø  There is a clear link between people diagnosed bipolar and suicidal tendencies

This is just the tip of the iceberg of what I found, friends!  The thought that there are so many people out there who need help and are either too embarrassed, too sick or too poor to get it is astounding!

 Those of us who are caregivers to a person with bipolar need to stand our ground and insist on adequate treatment and care for our loved ones.  So often, it is the case that they are unable to do so themselves.

Don’t Be Afraid!

Don’t be afraid to visit doctors with the patient if you are a spouse.  Don’t be afraid to go to therapy with them.  If you know that they are giving inaccurate information, don’t be afraid to call their doctors and therapists when it is necessary.  Monitor their medication if you need to, especially if you sense something is just not right. 

It is for their good, and you should not feel badly about taking excellent care of the person you love when they are unable to care for themselves! 

It is horrible to think that any person would find their life worth less than the air it takes for them to breathe.  However, suicidal statistics demonstrate clearly that there are many people who are just that depressed in this country.  They are not all bipolar, of course, but bipolar disorder absolutely has a direct correlation with suicidal tendencies. 

I will make my husband mad if I have to.  I will go against anyone else’s criticism anytime.  And I will inconvenience doctor’s all day long to make sure my husband does not become one of those statistics because of my negligence.  I now know, almost three years after Lee’s diagnosis that he is like a flower opening to the sunshine of opportunity, support and love.

Check out all of my findings and more at http://www.nimh.nih.gov/statistics/index.shtml.

My Late Bipolar Reaction

Lee and I have been having some great days between ourselves lately, but I’m telling you, it seems like the whole wide world is against us.  Thank goodness that he is stable right now. 

 We’ve had some major problems with our daughter (not of her doing), a myriad of minor household disasters ranging from a deceased heat pump to a flooded bathroom floor, and my workload has doubled (that's good but also quite stressful).  All of this in less than three weeks.  It has been more than hectic –it’s been downright crazy.  And with all of the stress and strain that is totally non-bipolar related I have noticed something about myself that I truly do not know what to do with or how to handle.  I call it my late bipolar reaction.

This reaction is the one where I get tiffed with my honey-bunny-man for doing absolutely nothing wrong.  Not a little angry; furiously enraged.  Complete paranoia reigns when I get this way.  I recognize depression signs.  It’s a defiant attitude I have when he’s doing everything right.  It’s the obsession that pushes me to take little rides to make sure he’s at work when he says he is. 

Do I have a problem?  Absolutely.  What should I do about it?  Couldn’t tell you.  

Since we’re at an in between time where we’re making it financially, but still can’t afford health insurance for me, therapy for myself is out of the question.  Heck, bipolar disorder is darn expensive.  A few hundred bucks of medication a month, plus another couple hundred in therapy and doctor’s visits makes the budget a little tight at times.  Not to mention how hard it is to find a therapist whose first and last thoughts are not, Leave him, girl.  He's looney."

The only thing I know to do about my late bipolar reaction is pray about it, and then pray some more.  I’m brutally honest with my husband as well, because I completely expect him to be brutally honest with me about everything.  Better the demons I know and all that.  By putting my thoughts and feelings out there, no matter how irrational they are, it takes a little of the steam out of them.  It shows him that I'm practicing what I preach in a big way.

Seeing his reaction goes a long way toward my peace of mind.  I see that he loves me anyway, just like I love him anyway.  I see that I am not alone although in the midst of bipolar struggles it sometimes seems so.  When I say, “You might be mad at me, but I stalked your truck again.” And he responds something along the lines of, “Do you feel better knowing I was where I should be?” without a hint of anger or meanness; it helps.  When there’s just deep understanding and a ‘honey, I know we’re both doing the best we can’ feel to what he says, it goes a long way toward healing the hurts of the past. 

My bipolar reaction is scary and downright painful for me and for my mate.  But when used effectively for the uplifting of our marriage, it is also bringing a new and deeper dimension to our relationship that otherwise would never have been.  Thank the Lord for it all because He holds us in His hands.   

Is There a Wolf in There?

People who know me know that I am a very practical person.  Now, I’m not saying that I’m not flighty or super-duper out there sometimes.  But I am one of those people who believe firmly in things like coupons, 401K’s, health insurance and keeping an eye on the big picture.  I think that my pragmatic nature lends me to be spiritual as well.  In my logical mind, having faith is a wonderful, amazing and extremely practical way to live.  Really, is it rational to think that the whole universe just happened?

Having this realistic view of life also makes it very simple for me to see that God does not want us to go about acting like there aren’t opportunities available to help those of us dealing with manic depression.

I have heard a million reasons why bipolar isn’t really ‘real,’ but that the afflicted just ought to ‘pull themselves out of it.’  I have even been told that my husband has a demon because he has bipolar disorder.  It has been shared with me, by well-meaning folks, that psychiatrists and therapists are of the devil.  I have even been encouraged to let my faith in God keep my husband away from the appropriate medications to treat his extremely severe disorder. 

Now, I don’t mean this disrespectfully at all because these people truly believe these things from the bottoms of their hearts.  They are really trying to be helpful; but my down-to-earth personality has me screaming, “What a bunch of hogwash, people!”

Surely every psychiatrist on the face of the planet is not out for our souls.  Certainly, every person with a mood disorder is not full of evil spirits!  Would God put great medicines in the minds of incredibly astute professionals just so that we could turn them away?  And on top of refusing the help God has so graciously given us, we are also supposed to blame Him for the refusal.  My faith is supposed to be so high and mighty that I can refuse His mercy in His name? 

Well, I don’t think so.  It just doesn’t make sense to my practical, realistic, pragmatic nature.

My poor husband’s episodes have been so bad at times that I truly don’t know if he was really present in this world.  But a kind doctor had the knowledge that allowed them to say that they could help.  And over time my husband, our family doctor, therapists, psychiatrists, family and friends have helped him get back to where he can actually think and be responsible.  He is now a productive member of society again.  This has been done with the help of medication, and no exorcisms were necessary.  The most essential part of his stabilization, however, was the fact that God oversaw it all.

God gave most of us enough common sense to know the difference between what is good and bad; what is right and wrong.  And I think it is pretty much common sense that says if there is a medicine out there to help your cold, by golly-geezers, take it!   And, just because you get a cold doesn’t mean that you have evil incarnate living inside of you! That cold is also not an indication of all of the evil you must have done in the past.  How is this different for people unfortunate enough to be born with or to develop bipolar disorder?

God’s thinking is above our thinking, so I absolutely don’t claim to ‘know it all.’  But, I’m not going to take every word that is fed to me as the gospel either.  God told me in His word to look out for wolves in sheep’s’ clothing, and I intend to do just that. 

I also try to make sure I’m not unknowingly one of those wolves. 

Hope

There is a great truth to be learned by all who ever experience suffering and hardship which threatens to break their souls, hearts and minds.  The bad may get really, really bad.  But when the good comes it is obvious what is before one’s face.  There is no mistaking it, and there is no lack of appreciation or gratitude for the blessing that is given.

With that being said, what a wonderful few weeks we have had!  There were definitely times over the past several years that I wondered if we would ever experience any relief from the bipolar beast.  And now, here we are!  My husband is trying so hard, and so am I.  We are working together as a team to try to be better people in Christ.  Granted, neither of us are perfect…we are quite a way from there, folks!  Yet, we are refusing to sit stagnant in our unhealthy comfort zones.

I know from whence our help has come.  I know completely with every bit of what makes me who I am.  I know, beyond all doubt, that we could not have survived the struggles that come with bipolar disorder without God.  And, it makes me so heartbroken and remorseful for all of those who do not know that this help is there.  It hurts me to the core to know that there are people out there suffering without hope. 

Hope – it is a strange thing.  When I could not hope that my husband would ever become stable because my human nature could not trust him, I trusted that God had me in His hands.  When I could not hope that we would ever get past all of the pain, I had hope in the Heavenly Father because I knew that He would never cast on me more than I could bear.  Hope in God was all I had because I dared not trust to hope in anything or anyone else.  Too much pain, too much betrayal, too much hardship will do that to a person.

So, I lift a prayer for all that are out there without the hope of Christ.  I pray that you will find that hope by finding the One who gives it.  He holds you in his hand, too.  And while I am altogether unique and special to God, you are as well.  He loves me no more than He loves you.  Jesus Christ literally gave the ultimate sacrifice through His death so that you and I could have hope and life everlasting. 

The pain of this Earth is temporal.  It will not last forever, even if we never have another good day again for the rest of our lives here.  This life, however, is only the beginning.  We will all live for eternity and our souls will never dim.  It is merely a question of where that eternity will be spent; in glory with God, or in Hell.  I lift another prayer that we all see that death is only a transition from one form of living to another – and that we all choose whether or not to take the path that can give us hope in this life and the next.

I Love Him, I Love Him Not?

Let me begin today by explaining how I come upon this topic.  I was at a good friend’s house last week.  She is pretty familiar with the bipolar situation my family lives with every day, and she and I often share a thing or two about life.  She asked me if I loved my husband, or if I were only staying because I thought I was being led to.  That blew me away!  Wow!  Eye opener, dude!

Let me say, from the bottom of my big ole heart, that I absolutely love that man all around the world and back again!  We have had some rocky times, and dealing with bipolar disorder so up close and personal is not easy (can we say, ‘understatement’).  Sometimes I’m scared of what might be around the corner.  Often, I am terrified of more pain and rejection.  Occasionally, I’m even afraid of good times.  But, I have never stopped loving my husband.  Not ever.

The question of whether to stay or go, actually, was not (and is not) about love at all.  During the moments where I have thought of leaving, I had good reasons, and none of them had anything to do with a lack of love for Lee.  As a matter of fact, I don’t think that I will ever be able to stop loving him, barring if he were to hurt one of my kids.  If that ever happened, we would be in a whole other territory of no man’s land.  But, seeing as he really is a great daddy, I don’t anticipate that ever happening.  I’m pretty sure that we are likeminded in the “We’d die before hurting our kids intentionally” department. 

Choosing a path that continues to run parallel or one that diverges from one’s spouse, in this situation at least, has to do with survival.  It has to do with giving one’s kids a stable life.  It has to do with keeping one’s own sanity and health.  It is centered on what is best for everyone involved, because I have sometimes wondered if the kids and I were only making things worse for the poor man.  I thought maybe he could stabilize faster without us adding responsibilities to his life.

So, as you read, please understand that although I believe passionately that I have been led by the Holy Spirit to stay right where I am, I do also love my husband in a way that I have never loved anyone else before in my life. 

Bipolar disorder does not define him, but it can change him.  And through him, it can change me and my kids.  That is reason enough for a good mother to thoroughly pray over her choices and, when no answer seems to be the right one, choose to follow the guide of the One who knows all.  I truly believe that Jesus has me, my husband and my children in His hands, and that all things work for us because we love Him.

To my dear friend who helped to open my eyes to what it may seem like I was saying, thank you for being brave enough to ask the hard questions.  If you read this know that you were heard, and your words of support and help are greatly appreciated.       

Tough Love

I believe the last question I left you with was how exactly my family and I moved forward from a virtual bipolar stalemate.  I was guilt-ridden, although in retrospect I hadn’t technically done anything wrong.  My husband was feeling like (or at least this is how I perceived it) every wrong he had ever committed was now null and void, and that because he suffered from this mood disorder he was somehow exempt from all adult responsibility. 

It was tough – really, really tough.  The house, the yard, everything that we had was completely let go.  I couldn’t keep up.  I was doing all that I could, but I was now the keeper for EVERYTHING, which in a marriage two people are supposed to shoulder together.  I had a lot of anger for past hurts Lee had heartlessly inflicted, and I had major forgiveness issues (duh).

Lee, on the other hand, had absolutely no remorse.  He said that he did.  He said all of the right words to our marriage counselor and his therapists, but his actions did not prove his words.  Words without actions mean nothing except to prove that a person is being dishonest about what they are saying.  Naturally, he was the picture of fatherhood and the model spouse in front of others, but there was a dramatic difference when no one was looking.  Extremes were the game - it was just as bad as it seemed good to others behind our closed doors.

Plus, Lee’s medications were being really hard on his body and his mind.  And I was a very nauseous pregnant lady with a major dose of depression who had been taken out of work entirely.  Thank goodness for the support of family and friends – somehow our little daughter was protected from most of the chaos by very strategic overnights with her aunts!  But more than anything, I thank the Lord for providing me with the strength to endure both the mania and the depression, and everything in between.

I’ve made absolutely no bones about the fact that if everything that happened hadn’t happened in the very timeframe that they did, I most likely would be a divorced single mother today.  But, my pregnancy with my son slowed me down…and, as I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed, I received some peace from the Father.  Not peace with everything that had happened as much as peace that no matter what happened I would always be His, and that everything that happened was for my good and His glory.

I determined within myself, as hard as it was, that when the anger came (and it came often) I would pray for my husband and all those who had almost destroyed our family.  With my whole heart, I would pray for them despite all of the wrongs that had been inflicted on me. 

And, I also determined that I would take a rational look at the bipolar demon as objectively as possible.  When I did, I saw that having this horrible mood altering disorder had definitely changed my husband, and along with him, our whole life together.  I also realized that having a mental issue does not necessarily give a person the right to do nothing, or to do whatever they want when they feel like it.

Although his condition definitely affected the way he was able to think, he did have some choices.  And particularly, with medication he was increasingly responsible.  There is a very fine line between helping a bipolar spouse get on their feet, and allowing them to manipulate their partner into enabling them to remain stagnant.

The Lord revealed to me that although I really hadn’t been a bad wife, and although I wasn’t responsible for what had happened, I still had to change my actions to make our marriage work.  I had to quit taking the blame and stop allowing my own manipulation.  Tough love is hard, probably harder on the one having to distribute it, but it is a strong love. 

Tough love is the way that the Lord loves us.  He spares us as much as He can, but when He has to, He allows us to endure some hardship.  It makes us grow, and it makes us stronger and it makes us better. Jesus changed His whole life for us even when He had done nothing wrong.  He came to earth and He endured pain, torture and humiliation so that we could one day be with Him.  We should all strive to accept that challenge even though it is beyond terrifying.  Rest assured, we can never do such things on our own; but with Jesus, all things are possible!  I believe it!  And it is so!  Ain’t it good, folks!

P.S.  Just a note…if anyone has left a comment and I haven’t responded, it is because there is currently an issue with that particular part of my blog.  I’m working to correct it.  Cheers!    

The Blame Game

Well, tonight I am just sitting here with my puppy, Oscar, in my lap.  I’m reflecting on all of the incredible moments and thresholds that I’ve crossed, and trying to decide which we should discuss next.  I suppose the most obvious would be exactly what gave me the clue that my husband of six years had a severe case of bipolar disorder.

The answer would be that I was absolutely in shock at the diagnosis that our family doctor made.  We had had our fair share of marital problems, but I thought that was the whole purpose of taking marriage vows.  I thought that the worse had come, and the better was on the way.  I never saw that the mood disorder – until after a professional pointed it out – was in control of our good times and bad times.

Boy, did I beat myself up over this manic depression news!  I had the nerve to think that it was all my fault!  Can you believe that?  But I was just catching certain keywords here and there, and creating a very specialized guilt-trip just for myself.  I heard words thrown around like ‘stress’ and ‘triggers.’  I thought that I was certainly the cause of all of the stress in my husband’s life, and had to be the biggest episode trigger that he could possibly have.

After all, wasn’t it plainly obvious that the man really just didn’t like me anymore?  Who could blame him…I didn’t even notice he had bipolar disorder!  I was the one who really wanted a family, and wasn’t the greatest trigger in the world (and the most stress in the universe) caused by little additions to a family? 

Add to that the fact that we had tried for over three years to get pregnant with our daughter.  Add to that the fact that I was the one who had the fertility issues.  Add to that that I found out I was two months pregnant (SURPRISE!) just two weeks after Lee’s diagnosis.  Keep adding, and there is a great little picture of my own, personal, bipolar spouse blame game.

And guess what?  Lee was more than happy (at that time) to let me take the blame.  Lee was more than jubilant to have an excuse for all of the mistakes that he had made, and absolutely ecstatic that I felt I was the trigger for it all.  It was like he was saying silently, “I can’t do anything because I am bipolar, dear…from here on out you are responsible for everything!  After all, you are to blame for everything anyway!”

Now, he and I both know that all of that is a bunch of ‘hog wash,’ as my grandma would have said!  But at the time, it was tearing me apart.  It was also enabling him to stay right where he was; in the middle of no man’s land with no intention of moving forward at all. 

How did we move forward?  Only one answer to that…

Learning to Live - For the Second Time

Lee isn't the only one of us learning how to live again in this bipolar relationship.  I’m relearning how to live, too.  I’m seeing why I married my husband in the first place...there was a seemingly endless span of time when I couldn't have told anyone why I had done something so crazy! 

Do I still get scared that he is really just hiding things from me, and really just manipulating my loyalty and love?  Absolutely.  Every. Single. Day.  But I’ve given it to the Lord. 

When all of the scary thoughts and memories comes back (because they always do), I turn right around and give it back to God…again!  I imagine we (me and God, that is) do this maybe five or six times a day!  But that sure is a whole lot better than the forty or fifty times a day we started out with!  I’m not sure that it’s a lack of faith in God that keeps me from resting easy…I think it is more from sheer terror that I keep picking that yoke back up. 

I love my husband.  I love my family.  I see clearly now that bipolar disorder is an animal.  Like all animals it can be domesticated, but every once in a while, its true nature is revealed and episodes come back to rear their ugly heads.  Any one of you who is dealing with manic depression, whether you're the diagnosed or the diagnosed's caretaker, should expect this to be an ongoing process.  People who are bipolar are born with it, and there is no cure. 

Read the signs that indicate an episode is coming on, and try not to get blindsided by those symptoms that you have to deal with most.  I know before my husband when he is about to go into even a minor episode.  For him, disturbance in his sleeping pattern is one of the first indications that things are not right.  When he starts to have violent dreams (which he enacts physically while sound asleep) I know that something is up.

 I start communicating with him right away about anything that is bothering him, any other bipolar symptoms he may be experiencing (that he isn't telling me about), any hallucinations, and whether he's been taking his medicine like he should.  HE HATES IT...and, I DON'T CARE!  It's for his good, my good and our children's good...so there!  Many times episodes can be headed off at the pass before they're too bad, but that can't happen when involved parties bury their heads in the sand.

That’s how I handle the back and forth.  And no matter how hard I try, I do still get blindsided from time to time.  I try really hard not to beat myself up over it, though.  Contrary to popular belief, spouses who are trying to hang in there with their manic or depressed significant other are not super human.  Of course, most often I do kick myself a few times, whether I should or not.  Then I give it to the only One who knows what to do with it anyway!  (That would be Jesus, of course!) 

Back to the Present

Back to the present, some years from the day that my family was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, we are doing much better.  I say that our family was diagnosed for one, simple fact.  Although my husband is actually the one whose brain is directing manic and depressive episodes, all of us have had to learn to live with it.

I think that we’ve finally reached a point where his medication is stable, and he is learning how to live again.  We’re talking about years of making mostly impulsive, irrational decisions – and then suddenly, the medication is right and he can think on his own! 

To be honest, I think it scared the living daylights out of him when he first realized what had happened.  He could really think!  And that meant dealing with everything that he had done, and rebuilding his life.

I know it scared me when the medication seemed stable…I suppose one just gets comfortable with what they know regardless of how horrible it really is.  Take, for example, women who endure abuse for years but are afraid to leave.  I, like them, felt that at least I knew my demons.

The first time he was nice to me for no apparent reason, I was completely furious.  No kidding, folks.  I was livid.  Seeing red was not the phrase for it – it was like a nuclear explosion of crimson.  Why?  The reason was simple - it terrified me to distraction.  I wanted to know why he was being nice to me…what precisely had he done that he was trying to make up for?  Who was watching that he wanted to impress?  What, for the love of pancakes, had gotten into him that he thought I was going to buy that old trick?

Imagine my surprise when he was just being his nice, sweet, real self.  I guess I cried for a whole day; maybe more.

In the Beginning...Our Story - Moving on

continued...

Somewhere in the midst of all of this chaos, I was taken out of work.  Imagine being pregnant, mothering a two year old, dealing with a delusional, bipolar spouse and juggling a busy career as a theatre/dance high school teacher; oh, and add my own bout of prenatal depression to the mix.  Not easy.  Something had to go, and the only option was work. 

I was lucky enough to have disability with my employment, and unlucky enough to have a boss who did not see the importance of my doctor’s removal from work enough to understand I couldn’t create detailed lesson plans and plan musicals from home anyway.  And, although the disability definitely helped us transition financially, it was only half of what I normally made. 

With some of the complexity of our situation acknowledged, it is important to say that through all of this I had only one constant.  My Lord; my Savior; my Jesus truly was all that I had all of the time.

My family tried, but bipolar disorder is hard to understand.  And, it is hard to understand that it is bipolar disorder tearing one’s daughter apart, rather than her husband intentionally driving her batty.  His family tried, but again, bipolar disorder is hard to understand.  How does one acknowledge that this person, who is so obviously not one’s child, is in fact the son they raised?  Doctor’s tried, too, but their knowledge and power is limited. 

I knew One, though, who is never limited.  Through it all, God knew everything already.  God understands bipolar marriages completely.  He knows just what the challenges are, and He knows just how to meet them head on.  The only rest I ever got was in His loving arms.  Even as my faith faltered, then grew again, God refused to let me go.  He knew and He loved me, as bad as my thoughts got and as much as I hated everything He had ever given me.  He carried me, and never once did He falter.  He, and He alone, still carries me today.      

In the Beginning...Our Story - Part 2

continued...

When my husband’s medication was at its worst, he thought people were there who were not.  He thought things were happening that were not.  For example, he thought he could put it all on the line to begin his own custom cabinet making business, and he really believed with his whole heart that he could become a millionaire doing it. 

Never mind he had never once in his life built a cabinet, custom or not.  Once I informed him of this little dilemma, he plummeted from his manic state into deep depression.  He slept…and slept…and slept.  He was ill, sad, crying, furious and self-centered all at once. 

Going back to his medication from yesterday’s post, the anti-depressant was making him rapid cycle badly and the drug to help him stop smoking was blocking much needed receptors in his brain (I am not a doctor; this is my feeble attempt at an understandable explanation).  It took more than two years to find a medication regimen that worked for him. 

Sometimes things would get really hopeful, then they would get really bad, really fast.  It was like riding on a freight train that has malfunctioning brakes.  You get to zooming along, thinking things are going pretty good, and suddenly you’re slapped up against the windshield (or whatever equivalent you might find in a freight train) when all those tons of metal just stop.  Then you might even hit reverse for a while…you never, ever know. 

Throughout all of that, he maintained therapy and psychiatry visits, plus primary care physician visits.  We went to marriage counseling.  And I can safely say that as long as he couldn’t think straight (which was a long time) it did him absolutely no good. 

Don’t get me wrong!  I firmly believe that therapy is integral to the person with bipolar disorder.  I also believe that the spouse and family of that bipolar individual can benefit greatly from therapy.  But if a person is so far gone that they cannot stay awake for more than a few minutes at the time or focus on a single word being said, it is doing them no good. 

The point?  Get that medication right as fast as possible!  There are folks whose primary care physicians can help just fine.  But in extreme cases, like my husband’s, a psychiatrist really should be involved.  Thank the Lord, we have a family doctor who knew when to say, “I’ve done what I can.  It’s time to get you to someone who can do more.”  And I will forever be grateful to her for it.

Unfortunately, finding a psychiatrist who wants to help bipolar people get back to normal rather than medicate them to the point they are zombies can also be tricky.  It is utterly and completely complicated at every turn.  But I have always thought, and still maintain, that anything worth doing is not done easily.

To be continued...

In the Beginning...Our story

It has been my experience that a bipolar person does not have to live enslaved by their disorder.  Bipolar disorder symptoms are wide-ranging and quite difficult to understand.  The fact is, however, that those who are unfortunate enough to live with this mood disorder cannot control the spectrum of emotions they feel on their own.  Therapy is fantastic.  Support is wonderful.  Willpower is magnificent.  But, all of that is almost moot for the great majority without the right medication regimen.  And that regimen can be almost like finding diamond in the rough. 

My husband was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder shortly before I discovered I was pregnant with our second child.  I had known for years that he was not the same man who had proposed to me in the very spot that we had had our first date, or called me ‘angel.’  I knew that the sweetheart I had agreed to spend my life with would never do some of the things the man I was living with had done and was doing; all, apparently without concern. 

We did not know until later that his mania had reached a level where he was developing amnesia of hours to weeks of his life.  Putting it as simply as I can, the cause of this little phenomenon was that his brain was being so deprived in some areas because of the strain of the bipolar that other parts (beginning with short term memory, because it isn't needed as much as things like breathing) were beginning to shut down. 

Initially, it was thought that he had only a mild case of bipolar…that is, until I went to the doctor with him and enlightened the folks of the behavior I saw as opposed to the things he could remember.  He was started on anti-depressants and a drug to help him quit his extreme smoking habit.  I thought things couldn’t get worse before, but whoa-buddy was I wrong!  The combination of these two drugs took him from mildly hallucinatory (i.e. shadows shifting) to completely delusional (i.e. developed an alternate, imaginary life with ‘the boys at the boat dock’). 

To be continued...

My Goal

My goal here is to help people who are struggling with bipolar disorder within their marriage.   My own husband was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder almost three years ago, and I completely understand the trials that it brings. Previously known as manic depression, this is a mood disorder which brings a person to huge emotional extremes; extreme euphoria and unlimited energy, extreme depression, exhaustion and rage. It can leave a spouse feeling as if they are living with a ticking time bomb, and in many ways they are. As a result, a huge number of bipolar marriages just don't make it. The stress and the strain are incredible for both partners. 

I was quite tempted on more than one occasion to hit the road with bells on, and no one would have blamed me if I had. I was even encouraged to call it quits by many, professionals and regular Joe's alike.  I turned to the Internet for help, and found much of the same.  Instead, I felt compelled by the Holy Spirit to remain where I was, regardless of the pain that came with the locale.  I chose to keep my family intact, and battle the bipolar war 'til death do us part.  At least that’s what I’m trying to do, and with the help of God, it can be so.

I would never encourage anyone to remain in a dangerous situation - EVER.  But, I would suggest that any man or woman living with a person with bipolar recognize that to stay or to go is their decision alone.  There is hope in some situations, regardless of the severity of the manic and depressive episodes.  I was given every reason to leave on a silver platter, and a nice "We'll be seeing ya now," to pave the way.  But I chose to stay, and now I'm glad that I did.  It would be a shame to turn one's back on their miracle when it is just outside the door.