Life After Divorce











{October 29, 2008}   Down the Rabbit Hole

After my trip to the hospital, I began harboring some serious feelings of resentment toward my husband and his callousness regarding my illness.  It really sucks hairy donkey balls to feel that sick – to think you might die – and not have the support of the person who is supposed to love you the most.  It is really hurtful.

I remember a few months later, Steve came down with a 24 hour stomach bug.  I remember him wanting me to wait on him hand & foot and telling me that no one has every felt as sick as he did right then.  Um, excuse me, douche bag… wasn’t I just in the hospital???  How can you say these things to me?  24 hours later, he felt fine and I was sick as a dog (this is usually what happens when he gets sick).  But, he couldn’t possibly wait on me… he might get sick again.

From 2002 – 2004, I was doing consulting work – good pay, but never a solid schedule or paycheck.  The work would ebb and flow, depending on the company’s priorities.  In 2004, I learned that my project was ending and started looking for a new job.  I found one, amazingly, that started the week after my project ended.  I went to work for The Company in July of 2004.  One week later, Steve went in for day surgery to have a small cyst removed from his chest.  He was supposed to go back to work the next day.  It feels like he never went back again.

Week after week, he would make some excuse for why he couldn’t go in to work.  He just didn’t feel well.  He stayed up too late.  Then, he began to complain about being depressed.  I told him to go to the doctor.  He went to our family doctor who told him he was probably depressed, and prescribed him anti-depressants.  I was really annoyed with all of the time he was missing from work.  He had missed so many days over the past few years, that he no longer had any sick time and was on “restricted sick leave,” which meant he had to get a doctor’s release EVERY time he missed a day.  So… he wasn’t bringing in any money.  We still owed his grandmother money.  I had a new job which paid consistently, but not very much.  I was drowning again.

Then one day I got a call at work.  Oh My God… I think I am going crazy.  I might kill myself.  He was sobbing.  He never cries.  My whole world took a nose dive down the rabbit hole.  I could feel my heart spinning out of control somewhere around my ankles.  I couldn’t breathe.  Steve went immediately to the psychiatrist who decided that between the family doctor and himself, they had misdiagnosed him.  He was not depressed.  He was bipolar.  Apparently, the anti-depressants alone sent him into a high manic state.  This is a very dangerous state to be in.  We worked with the doctors and the psychiatrists to find him a medication which would keep him balanced.  They told him he was a rapid-cycling bipolar, which meant that he would roller coaster from extremely manic to extremely depressed within a very short period of time.  It seemed like it would switch within hours (this is not typical of bipolar disorder).

I knew some of what to expect.  My mother is bipolar, and has been all of my life – not that she would tell you that.  But I had seen the extreme differences in mood.  I have a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology.  I have read a lot on the disorder, and witnessed a lot first hand.  But nothing prepared me for being the wife of a bipolar man.  One minute – Liz, you are the greatest person I have ever known.  I would be lost without you.  I love you so much.  Fast forward 12 hours – You are suffocating me!  I can’t stand to be around you!  It was a nightmare.  I was so emotionally destroyed that I ended up in therapy myself.  I never knew what to expect and was constantly walking on eggshells.  He was never physically abusive, by any means.  But, the emotional torment of such rapid-cycling emotions was pure hell.

Between July 2004 and January 2005, Steve worked 4 days.  And not consecutively, either.  This was ridiculously stressful because not only was he NOT earning an income… he was spending money like it was going out of style.  $350 for a pair of cowboy boots (he is neither a cowboy, nor a person who wore boots)… Clothes he didn’t wear.  Cars.  OMG don’t get me started on the cars!  That will have to be another post on it’s own.

I did my best to be supportive to the situation – whatever that was minute by minute.  People told me to leave him.  They told me that he was running me down.  Even my therapist to me to get the hell out and do not leave a forwarding address.  But I just couldn’t do that.  I loved him.  I hated seeing him in turmoil!

And then came the girls…

Advertisements


a0m0y7 says:

oh my, i dont even know if I want to know about the girls



FancyLori says:

He is neither a cowboy…nor one to wear boots. I LOVE IT!!!

That having been said, this is really an eye-crossing blog to read. I’ve experienced so much of this from different sides. My heart is with you, sister.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

et cetera
%d bloggers like this: