Staying busy hides the sadness

When I met my husband at 21, my eyes sparkled with love!  Such a glorious of all human experiences it is to fall in love. The smile never left my face, even when I kissed him.  He would be forced to kiss my teeth and then laugh and tease it me for it.

We dated for 3 and a half years before getting married, and we get married it was because we both were so madly in love we couldn't possibly imagine life without the other in it.  We didn't marry because I got pregnant or some other excuse.  No I married him at 24 and him to me at 25 and we stayed that way for a blissful nine months. 

In nine months, my hopes of the fairy tale ending came crashing down.  After just a short nine months, my husband experienced a severe psychotic episode...the first I had ever seen in our entire 4 year relationship and I was told he has schizophrenia and from there, life would never be the same.

I remember the pole in the hospital I leaned against whilst sobbing  I remember his dad's uncomfortable touch upon my back trying to comfort me but not really knowing me.  I remember feeling so utterly alone. 

Somehow three years later events had drastically changed for the better.  The medication was working, he had a new desire and drive to become and engineer and he enrolled in school to complete his electrical engineering degree.  I had finished graduate school and I was excited to move onto the next stage of life. My husband graduated college, found full time steady employment, and I had our two babies and was able to stay home with them part time. 

Life is hard as a mom.  I didn't want it any other way and I'm so grateful I was there, but it was hard.  Days would go by where I didn't shower and I wore the same hoodie or alternated hoodies that were easy to zip so I could nurse.  I felt unattractive and unattracted to anything or anyone.  My husband was providing for us but I felt ugly and unfullfilled. 

My daughter was dx with severe speech disorder and I was devastated.  Here I was a speech therapist and my daughter had a severe disorder I wasn't equipped to fix.  I started attending conferences, workshops, and training and was focusing on my career again under the guise of helping my daughter. My purpose and passion were born.  I new treating kids with apraxia was to be my life. I worked at the schools, dabbled in a fledgling private practice, and busted my butt to be a good mom.

I started to butt heads with my husband.  Whose career is more important?  He accused me of always taking priority, I accused him of not being supportive. 

Seven years after the birth of my daughter he landed in a psychiatric ward for the second time and life was never to be the same again.  It started a series of hospitalizations occurring each subsequent year.  Turns out we were lucky for my job because no one else could have afforded his attorney fees and hospital bills from his psychotic episodes.

My career was thriving but my heart was hurting.  I missed being mom to my kids.  I hated I was the parent always working.  To make it worse, when he was sick, he would tell me I was choosing money over my kids.  I would become incensed.  If it wasn't for me we would all be in a homeless shelter!  I was the one supporting all of us.  Such is Mania though.  Mania is mean and a jerk.

Tonight March 26th, 2019,  a short 3 months after my husband's last psychotic episode, I write to put things in perspective.  He is currently unemployed and has been for over a year now aside from some odd jobs. There is a season to everything and we can either look at the negatives or focus on the positives.  Life is always going to be hard in some capacity.  That might be part of the definition of living. There is NEVER a perfect season and there will always be something to complain about. 

An involved dad

 It's quite remarkable, even to me sometimes, how bipolar disorder can completely change a person and make them a shell of who they are.  At the height of mania, bipolar takes my children's dad away usually physically, as he doesn't sleep, has energy for days, and so he spends time away from the house busy with projects and  socializing with friends.  At the low of depression, bipolar takes him away emotionally where he doesn't leave the house but he also doesn't  even seem to hear them talking to him or feel their affections.

Either way bipolar takes away their dad's "presence" in their lives; which is so cruel and unfair because his one goal as a father was to always be present.  We would talk about parenting and he would confide he never wanted to be the dad who wasn't there because a job or money was more important.  He always wanted to make sure they felt they were the priority. 

If Cody is not sick, he lives this philosophy.  He willingly takes less pay to ensure he won't be away.  He turned down jobs that involved more money but included traveling to make sure he was with his family instead.   

My kids are his priority when he is well.  

However, bipolar steals that from him.  From us.  

Today is St. Patrick's day in 2021.  We are in the mountains on a spring break snow boarding trip. Cody is well, and has been well since November when he was released from the hospital after missing my daughter's 10th birthday and Halloween with the kids and put on Lithium.  The COVID 19 pandemic hit the world in 2020, and despite it being a time of increased mental illness issues in others, Cody was unaffected.  I love lithium.  I'm not exaggerating.  It's like a miracle drug that keeps Cody here and bipolar away. We love it when Cody is here.  He is fun.  He is present.  He is engaged.  He is everything he set out to be when he agreed to become a father.

Tonight I'm sitting in hotel room with some much needed peace and alone time while he has the kids down at the pool. He blew up their floaties even to play with in the water.  For a brief moment, I feel a tinge of guilt I'm not with them, but I don't actually like swimming and I remember there were times, months even, where Cody couldn't bring himself to even plan to go on vacation. Such is depression. The few times I planned trips when he was depressed I was miserable.  Not only did I plan the whole trip but all the responsibility was on me.  Meals, entertainment, tickets, pool whatever.  It was exhausting and left me feeling depleted and irreparably sad, grieving the Cody that seemed to have left us for good.

Fortunately I educated myself enough about depression to keep forging ahead knowing everything has a season and nothing lasts forever.  So tonight, as the kids swim with their dad and I sit here in the hotel room, I give thanks and have gratitude for this moment.  

I reflect on how had I not educated myself on bipolar we likely wouldn't be hear on this amazing trip in a mountain resort.  Had I never learned to separate Cody from his bipolar and to set up boundaries when he is sick to protect myself and my children during those hard times, it is unlikely we would be here today.

I think about the other families suffering in silence.  Confused family members baffled by their bipolar loved one.  

I want to help those families by sharing our experiences.  I want to destigmatize mental illness - especially serious mental illness like bipolar one with psychotic episodes.  That shit sounds scary and it is scary.  But it's also scary for the person afflicted. 

I want individuals with bipolar disorder to be better understood, because with this understanding and awareness comes actual solutions and help for the individual and his/her family.

A person with bipolar disorder can live a productive and happy life.  It's possible.  I look at Cody as proof.  However, it didn't come easy.  He had to claw his way out of his mental illness and want to be well more than he wanted to stay sick.  And I had to educate myself as well. I literally feel like I hit the breaking point but overcame it, and I want other families to have support and know how to do that as well.  Because on the other side of the breaking point, was my Cody again.  He was standing on the other side fighting too but I couldn't see it at the time through all the stress, hurt, and fear.  However, had I succumbed to the breaking point, I would have never experienced our happy family the way I remembered it ever again.

Will he stay well?  Honestly, part of my healing was realizing I don't need to worry about that anymore. I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop a long time ago.  After his fifth episode I realized I have the tools and the strength to get past any other episode.  More importantly I have faith.  I know no matter what happens, we are going to be ok.  The Universe has a way of providing as long as I'm willing to receive when I need help and give when I don't. 

It's exhausting...going rounds

It's partly my fault.  You're feeling up and you want to drink.  I'm always down to drink so I'll take an extra shot, or two or three with you.  When you're cycling up though, it's ALWAYS a mistake.  I know better.  I guess I want to pretend everything is normal...you know..until it's not.

I asked you once to stop talking about business.  It's 9:15 at night.  Please, just let it go.  You kept on.  I emphasized again I had no problem discussing it but not now when we had both been drinking, yet you kept on.  I finally just had to disengage.  I turned back to my computer and began typing, which made you angry.  I reminded you, or should I say bipolar, how I had asked politely in numerous different ways to stop talking about the business but you had not so my only recourse was to disengage.

A perfect holiday

The secret life of bipolar is a life of extremes. It took therapy and a lot of personal development to learn how not to jump on the extreme train with my husband.  Bipolar will always be a part of our life.  It is there whether we want it to be there or not.  It is there, whether we wish it away or not. 

Eight months ago my daughter turned 10 and my husband was in a psych ward at a hospital in a neighboring state.  He was in mental anguish as he battled a mind that had been hijacked.  Eight months ago I found myself a single parent gathering all the birthday supplies, decorating the house, cooking the food, ensuring the traditions, and hosting a party on my own.  In the midst of the obvious absence, I stuffed my own feelings to be strong and joyful for my sweet daughter with special needs who had been waiting for months now to be 10! 

I made it as normal as possible.  There was a balloon run in the hallway, she had a candle in her pancake, she opened the gifts from us first. Before his hospitalization my husband managed to buy her an ipad mini.  To this day it's her most prized gift.  The loss of him not being able to see her open it was enormous.  I took a video that to this day I don't think he's watched.  The pain of what he missed too much to bear.

I was told by hospital staff that the knowledge that he had missed his daughter's 10th birthday set him back days from getting better.  He was completely distraught - yet his brain was still so sick and in out of lucidity.

Today was Father's Day - eight months later.  I hosted and smiled the entire morning.  I cleaned as usual, but he set up the canopy, the patio furniture, cleaned the kitchen and lent a hand wherever he could.  He also cooked all the hamburgers.  He laughed and he told jokes, and everyone commented quietly to me at various points how he seemed so "normal" and back to his old self.

A brief surge of panic welled in me.  Oh no.  He's feeling good and people think he's normal.  That means he's on his way to mania, my brain would worry.  But he's also sleeping through the night and sleeping in and finally taking Lithium, my other brain would say.  It's okay Laura.  It's okay. 

I once had a wife of a bipolar 1 spouse tell me, "Laura enjoy the good.  Enjoy the happy.  This illness robs so much, don't let it rob the good times too."  I think about that often and try and change my thought patterns to that of gratitude and happiness in the present moment. 

So yes.  Today was a perfect day, in a perfect way in our life with bipolar.

To the tribe whose member was suicidal

I'm part of a tribe I never thought I'd be in.

When my daughter was diagnosed with a speech disability, my world was turned upside down.  Struggling through the diagnosis and fight for services was demoralizing and exhausting.  Not to mention the emotional, financial, and marital strain that no one ever talks about. 

Having a child brings challenges, but having a child with special needs magnifies challenges. I remember feeling so alone.  I remember feeling like no one understood my life but me and it was an emotionally torturing place to be in. 

I found a tribe I never knew existed. 

I easily connected via a social media platform with others who had children who shared my same diagnosis.  Through these connections I was inspired to coordinate a walk for my child and others who shared her same diagnosis.  A team was formed of parents who shared the same vision, and a network....or tribe....was formed that was strong and unbreakable. 

I found a tribe I never knew we needed.

The purpose of the tribe was to spread awareness and celebrate our children who shared the same diagnosis.  Organized fundraising events and happy hours were scheduled and bonds were made.  There is an immediate and indescribable connection when a human meets another human going through the same thing and as C.S. Lewis describes it, "You too? I thought I was the only one." 

After some time a member of the tribe was afflicted with mental illness in the form of anxiety and depression..  The tribe I knew was there to support her son, suddenly rose up and supported HER. 

Find your tribe and love them hard.

A mom in our tribe had anxiety and depression.  It was something some of us knew, but never actually experienced.  This year, anxiety and depression came back knocking on this mom's door, and her tribe, her son's disability tribe rallied around her.  Cards and gift cards were sent.  Phone calls and texts were made since we now know that people in the throws of depression won't reach out. More texts were sent.  Support was poured out.  Love enveloped her son with special needs and a beauty and kindness many people fail to see in the world was uncovered.  Uncovered, right here in a tribe that was formed outside of mental illness.

Mental illness needs a tribe. 

Mental illness is as real as cancer.  It can be sneaky, it can be stealth, and IT IS DEADLY. Mental illness kills.  The brain lies to a person with mental illness.  Mental illness inflicts pain and ill information on the afflicted.  A tribe can counteract that lie.  A tribe can rally and save the person suffering from themselves. Stigma is the enemy of mental illness. Acceptance, understanding, and a TRIBE of loved ones is the cure.

A life was saved this month.  A life who was valued by an entire tribe who reached out. 

Reach out.  

Don't judge.

Just love. 

Save a life.

I miss you

"Why do you love me and what can I do to keep this?" my husband asked one day when I was feeling enraptured and in love.  Not knowing how to respond, I responded simply, "you're you and I love YOU."

Your face got a serious tone and you commented that you are always you but these days I seemed to be particulary in love and you wanted to know why so you could replicate them.  I really didn't have an answer except to say,

"I love you.  I don't love depression or mania.  I'm not in love with them.  But I have an always will be in love with the real Cody.

"That doesn't make me feel better," was your reply.

I didn't know what else to say.  I wasn't trying to make you feel bad, but at the same time depressed Cody is apathetic and manic Cody is mean......why would  like them?

Mania, book dedication, and true love

About a month and a half after a brief marital spat, my hsuband with bipolar 1 ended up in the hospital.  Ironically, a month and a half ago I did not think he was sick, but my daughter was beside herself with anxiety.  I wrote about explaining to her that he was just mad and not sick, but turns out she was right, and I was wrong.

My daughter has special needs arising from a genetic mutation called BCL11A.  She may struggle with socially accepted forms of learning, but emotional intelligence is her superpower. She knew before all of us.

Around this time, I published a book I wrote.  It was the story of my daughter overcoming her speech disability, a disability in which I happen to now specialize.  My husband encouraged me to write a book, and I did during depressive episodes of his spanning the course of 3 years. In those three years, he also suffered 4 manic/psychotic episodes.  Signs of mania can include anger and irritability.  I know this because I've been to counseling and read books.  My daughter, who has no training knew it before all of us.

"He yelled at you, his brain is sick!" she told me frantically.  I assured her he was just mad at me and not to worry.  People get mad and it's okay.  It doesn't mean he's sick.  She wouldn't have it.  "He yells at you when he's sick mommy!" she would press.  I validated that he does yell at me when he's sick, but that he's not sick and he was just mad.  Turns out she was right and I was wrong.

During this particular episode he set off on a Friday afternoon.  He had been at Denny's since 2 AM that morning and then went to work early.  We were on Fall break, but usually Fridays were his day to get the kids to school since I work early.  He had me drop them off at work and then he took them to my parents house. They reported he was overly talkative and my mom shared he had stared at her but was staring through her.  I know now, he was likely experiencing hallucinations.

From there he left and returned to work but left at lunch to "work from home" and ended up at a Dodge dealership where he was contemplating buying a new truck. The salesman, my friend, reported he was cool and calm and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except that he was talking about my new book and how proud he was.

That night he was gone.  He had driven up to Wyoming, ditched my parent's loaner car on the side of the road and was walking to only God knows where.  He lost the car keys, his debit card, and anything else on his person.......except my book.

I only found that out when he was about 11 days into an inpatient stay.  "I'm reading your book and I can hear your voice in the words," he said to me. Incredulous I exclaimed, "You have my book???"  How?? You lost everything on your person but you have my book??"

"I'm so proud of you, Laura," was his reply.  I wept because not even my own parents or family members bought or read the book yet.  I texted a friend who knew the situation and her reply was, "Wow, you really did dedicate it to the right person."