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. 

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."

What goes up, must come down.

"Was Cody okay today?  I'm only asking because Dennis was wondering," said my sister on Father's Day.

I always laugh and internal, incredulous laugh.  "No," I answered.  "He's not okay.  He has bipolar disorder, remember?"

"Well, but is he OK?" she pressed.

This Mother's Day, 2018, was probably the worst Mother's day to date.  I feel like I take on a lot of responsibility and I'm happy to do it and try my best not to complain for 364 days a year.  I work 12 hour days and then come home, eat dinner, and do the dishes that were left in the sink I guess for me to clean.   On my days off I clean the house, do the laundry, and try my best to make it so we don't live in a pig sty. To be honest, my house makes me sick.  I was fine with having this old ranch style house when we first were married; but now I work my butt off for people who all have bigger and nicer houses than me.  It's stupid really.  Eckhard Tolle would tell us it's "Identification with Form," so in my pity-party moments, I remind myself of that.  Then I think of Oprah.  She once said she knew she had made it when she would open a linen closet that was full of linens from top to bottom.

A three-story house is my linen closet.  Isn't that silly?

Anyway, this Mother's Day found Cody so manic he was probably almost hospitalized.  I was blamed for not planning enough for having people over (even though I told him two weeks in advance AND what the menu was).  I was yelled at for not sending a text of menu items (that I sent).  I was yelled at for his lack of time to plan (when I was at work all day).  When Mother's Day Eve fell on my house, I actually told Cody what I wanted for Mother's Day was for him just not to be there.  I meant it sincerely.  It's one thing to not feel appreciated.  It's quite the other to be verbally and emotionally abused on that day.

All in all, Cody did manage to pull of a decent Mother's Day.  Despite being manic as shit, he was super remorseful and did his best to grill and make me feel appreciated.  He was a great host, talkative, funny, and full of energy.  He entertained the guests, and though I appreciated the effort,  bipolar won this Mother's Day.  I know Cody didn't want bipolar to win either, but it did and that's just the way life goes.  He didn't ask for bipolar either.  It wasn't his fault.

Fast forward a little over a month to Father's Day and I found it hard to imagine that it was only ONE month ago I thought Cody had a one way ticket to the hospital.  He crashed hard from his mania and was now sleeping in, taking naps, and finding it hard to function.  He was clearly now in a depressive cycle.  On Father's Day he was aloof and withdrawn.  Tied to his phone or isolating away from people and sitting in the backyard, he was completely opposite of the Cody who was present for Mother's Day.  It was no wonder my sister asked if he was okay, but honestly the answer is Cody is never really okay.

I told my sister it was nothing more of "What goes up, must come down."  There is only so long any human can sustain little sleep and superhuman energy.  Bipolar or not, everyone is still a person and so Cody crashed into depression.

So far, it hasn't been the total apathetic and lack of awareness depression that last summer brought. Though he seems to have awareness, motivating himself still seems hard and he loses focus and motivation easily.  He sits in the basement in the dark playing video games or watching movies.  Quite the change from the entire Spring where he never touched the basement and spent every moment talking my ear off and networking with clients.

My mom came over today and asked me how I was.  I told her Cody was approved for disability and it would kick in starting in July.  I have never been happier.  I remember once someone telling me their youngish husband was on disability and I looked at the with pity because I thought it was so sad someone so young had given up.  I don't see Cody as giving up, but he simply cannot function as a 40 hour work horse, so I weeped tears of joy when I was alone.  Finally some respite.  Being the sole provider and bill payer is extremely stressful.  I repeat a mantra to myself daily that I can do hard things.  I am strong, but MAN I hope this helps even a little.

Mother's Day was happy because of YOU TWO, my whole heart.

Family is everything.  The strength of strong women is deep in this family

Love you, Love you a lot, Love you Forever

Love you.  Love you a lot.  Love you forever.

It's a phrase that just started one day in my house, and was bestowed upon my children by their father, my husband. Despite my daughter having one of the severest speech disorders (apraxia) and struggling her first 4 years of life to even repeat "I love you," the phrase had become common place and well rehearsed at bedtime.  The kids, MY kids, MY heart, enjoyed saying it to their dad and giggled in glee when he would repeat it back or complete the phrase.  I would smile at their secret dialogue.  I was never included.  This was something special between them and their dad and I was 100% totally okay and happy with it. 

I love words.  I'm a writer.  Words have always made sense, and sometimes, certain words are only saved for someone special.  Words MEAN something and I knew these words symbolized a unique and special bond between my children and their father.

That is, until Depression hit.  Depression.  Such an unwelcome, unwanted, uncontrollable cloud that comes to visit.  Depression is not welcome by anyone, including the one it decides to reside in.  Depression chose my husband as its home this past year.  My husband reminded me the other day no one would "choose this," meaning no one would ever invite depression in.

My husband's eyes went blank and his body merely a shell.  My kids, not understanding depression tried for a couple weeks in vain.  On auto-pilot my husband would say "I love you" and they would eagerly respond,
"Love you a lot" and wait with baited breath for him to finish and say, "love you forever," but Depression stole their dad away. Depression didn't know the secret words.  Those words were lost in a foggy cloud as he would stare right through them or play games on his phone.

Soon after the words were forgotten.  I love you was ever barely spoken.  Hugs stopped being given.  Have you ever hugged a shell?  There isn't much satisfaction or connection.  At times, you may press it to your ears and imagine words and sounds, but in the end; you are left with a hard case and only your imagination.

We found a new doctor for my husband.  He changed the meds.  I waited for two weeks determined not to get my hopes up.  I couldn't handle them being crushed again.  I started to hear something peculiar.  I started to hear a phrase I just slightly remembered.

I love you.  I love you a lot.  I love you forever.

I think my mind dismissed it at first.  I can't hear that.  It's too painful.  I must be hoping so hard to have him back I am imagining my kids saying it again.  They had long forgotten it. 
But then, again.

I love you.  I love you a lot.  I love you forever.

There was this moment, as sure as the moment when I knew I had lost him......I realized I had found him again.  He had found a way to send depression packing and the sweetest words I think I have ever and will ever heard, came from the smiles of my children as they told him goodnight.

I love you.  I love you a lot.  I love you forever.

Goodbye depression. Oh, and I hope that door hits you on the way out.

Two's company, three is lonely: Go away bipolar depression

Depression is not something we have usually dealt with, my husband and I.  Manic bipolar I had all figured out.  This though, is new.

I am lonely.  I am so lonely at times.  He is a shell.  Depression for him is not sadness. 
It is indifference. 
It is apathy. 
It is....

Despondent.

I need to learn more about depression, but I'm not there yet.  Life is busy.  After working all day, the frustration I feel coming home to a house that's destroyed, dishes in the sink, and depression lying on the couch makes every ounce of patience and compassion in me boil over.

Sometimes it feels like I'm a single mom with three kids, one of which is depression. To say it's overwhelming is an understatement.  To say I feel lonely grossly misidentifies the feelings inside of me.  I once heard a song that said the opposite of love is not hate, it's apathy. 

Apathy is absolutely crushing.  Hate can make you cry, but apathy leaves you feeling empty too. 

I remember when my husband was first diagnosed, I read all this advice to not "jump on the bipolar train."  To set boundaries and make sure I don't get sucked into the constant roller coaster of mania and then depression and then back up to mania again.

I'm here to tell you that's impossible.

Boundaries can ensure you don't physically sit down on the roller coaster, but they very rarely work to inhibit all the emotions that come with loving someone who is manic or depressed.

When my husband is manic, my already anxious spirit is in overdrive and I experience panic attacks, heart palpitations, adrenaline rushes from panic at night, and a racing heart beat.

When my husband is depressed, as he is now, I experience intense loneliness.  No one asks me about my day anymore, and worse yet, no one seems to care.  I live in a house with another adult, but the only sounds are kids playing, fighting, or crying.  I crave adult conversation.  When I reach out and ask a question, it's met with a gesture of indifference for depression has no desire to talk.

Sometimes my husband comes out for a brief visit.  My hopes get as high and come as fast as a rocket shooting to space. Depression always has the last laugh though and the rocket explodes mid flight and I'm the only one left picking up the pieces.

Please, please, please go away depression.

Two is company and three is just....lonely.

The ransom I found after bipolar depression kidnapped my husband.

It's Fall of 2017 in Colorado.  The state has been under a fog for about a week or more due to smoke from nearby wildfires.  It's been hazy.  The sun is always a weird color and we can't see the mountains like usual.

Today, my husband with bipolar 1 disorder finally had an appointment with a private psychiatrist (hard to find), who is taking new patients (harder to find), works 5 days a week (impossible to find), and actually seems to look at psychiatry as more than a paycheck (I didn't think this existed).

I went with my husband to this appointment.  In the 11 years of his bipolar dx, I have never once been to an outside appointment.  I've had plenty with the inpatient staff, but no, this was a first.

My kids' normally fun, boisterous, larger than life dad has been kidnapped by bipolar depression. As much as I have good boundaries, and as much as I keep myself healthy and make sure not to jump on the bipolar roller coaster, my heart has been broken.  I miss my husband.  I miss my kids' real dad.  I miss my partner.  I miss my friend.  I miss the guy who quite literally might be the funnest person on the planet.

Bipolar has truly kidnapped him.

I have spent months trying to figure out the ransom. Date nights? Jet skiing?  Camping? Sleeping all weekend?  Break from the kids?  Break from the family? Break from life?  Vacation?

The kidnapper rejected all the offers.

At times, I thought I had enticed the kidnapper, even just a little; but in the end the price was too high, and worse yet, I didn't know the terms.

Who knew then, that today, the ransom would come in the form of a middle aged man, with brown leather suede shoes, and big white smile, salt and pepper hair, and a thoughtful demeanor.  My instincts instantly knew he was the ransom.  He was the key that would unlock depression's grip on my husband. 

He.....is a psychiatrist.

Were you expecting something fancier?  We have a new medication plan, a new follow up plan, a plan that involves teamwork, and a hope that it won't fail this time.  We have someone who is available, consistent, and seemed genuinely interested in running our kidnapper off for good.

Tonight after I picked up my kids, my son looked to the sky.  Our usually smoky, hazy sky was clear tonight for once; and my five year old son said, "Look mommy!  The sunset!"

Tears welled into my eyes as I smiled and said, "Yes.  There it is again Jace.  The sunset, and tomorrow will be indeed, a new day.