Just another manic Thursday
When it comes to living with someone who suffers a mental illness like bipolar, you often recognize patterns in their behavior. A few years ago, I could mark my calendar by my husbands mood. When the Wednesday prior to his long drive to pick up his children for visitation weekend rolled around, he would become highly irritable. For three full days, my boys and I would walk on eggshells hoping not to piss him off too much and tried to mollycoddle him as much as possible to make this recurring event a little more bearable for all of us.
As the children aged and custody situations changed, so did the timing of his deepest, darkest episodes. It wasn’t until recently that I was able to give this horrible timing a name - episode?!? - sounds easily enough and well defined doesn’t it? Such a small, concise word for such a nightmarish experience.
Right at a year ago, I saw the stress his job was putting on him. God had finally blessed me with enough income that I was able to tell him he could quit his stressful job and pursue what made him happy. I wanted to put the days of mine and the kids playing watchtower, to determine his moods upon arriving home from work, far behind us.
Little did I know, his dreams would be fleeting and before long, all he wanted to do, or had energy to do was tend to his birds, sleep and watch Discovery and History channel. It seemed like I’d woken up from a horrible dream only to realize the man I’d married was gone and in his wake was a complete stranger. A stranger I was left to take full responsibility for.
These days, my husband works minimal hours at a job that accommodates his schedule. I was thrilled at the prospect that he had a job, one that was quite cool really and perhaps having a little income would give him a sense of accomplishment and that would provide him a means of caring a bit for his own children.
I was so wrong, in so many ways.
With the new job came new behavior patterns and episodic behavior. Every other Thursday, which around here is called ‘payday’ he begins an episode. He stirs chaos in our house, becomes argumentative, insulting and negative. Thanks to the Family-to-Family class we are taking, I was able to recognize the cause of these bi-weekly episodes. I realized my husbands overwhelming urge to spend money was the driving force and the only way he can justify his behavior is to create an argument that provides him the excuse to leave the house.
When he returns, he comes bearing items that were needed in the house to begin with as a sort of shadow that masks the other items he may have purchased in haste.
For several months before he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he had a draw toward purchasing coffee cups. Not just any coffee cup - the $30 - $50 coffee cups from Danbury Mint.
It wasn’t like we didn’t have cabinets literally filled fully deep and stacked two high of cups already. I’ve never understood his need for such silly purchases, but it was those cups that lead us on a path of diagnosis.
What it will take to reach recovery is still a mystery and at times a seemingly unachievable one.
As much as I love my husband and adore his son, there are days, like today, that I struggle deeply with the desire to leave a note asking that he look me up when he’s recovered and taking my kids and fleeing.
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