After my boyfriend confessed that he had bipolar disorder, I thought I took it in stride. I kissed him goodbye just before I was to report for duty at work. Then I went to the bookstore where we met and looked up this strange illness. I had never heard of it. At the time, in 1992, bipolar disorder didn't have the celebrity press it has today.
Bipolar Disorder is defined as a mental disorder marked by periods of elation and depression. I had heard of manic depression, as bipolar disorder used to be called. I had a couple relatives about whom those words had been tossed around. They had also been referred to as 'crazy.' Thinking about those relatives made me a little concerned.
I went to call my boyfriend. He said he was fine. He said that he didn't take any medicine and that he didn't need to. I wanted to believe him. So, I took a wait-and-see approach and stayed positive.
My boyfriend was charismatic and energetic. When we walked together, I had to speed up to keep up with him. We talked on the telephone all night on several occasions. He talked so fast at times that he couldn't be understood. He ate constantly, never seeming to gain weight. He was very jealous when it came to me. His temper would also escalate out of control when he was angry. Sometimes, He felt that he knew people's thoughts. I had never met anyone quite like him.
We had a beautiful wedding just over a year after we met. We were happy, I thought. About a month after we got married, I talked with my husband about a conversation I had with a coworker. He got so angry with me. I didn't know what I had done. I tried to rewind what I had said and pick the conversation apart. After he finished yelling at me, for what he decided was my disrespect of him, he didn't speak to me again for two solid weeks.
As a newlywed, I was thrust into a loneliness and rejection I didn't understand. My new husband was actively ignoring me, refusing eye contact, not touching me or talking to me. I began to apologize and beg him to acknowledge me. I would go into the bathroom and bang my head against the door to drown out the silence. I believe this triggered my first incidence of major depression. (I found out later that this condition is called Reactive Depression and is common among the family members and loved ones of people who are mentally ill.)
This period ended even quicker than it began and was never discussed. I could drone on and on. Let me just say in summary that this scenario took place 16 years, five separations, two cross-country trips, two arrests, three civil commitments, over seven hospitalizations, and countless medication side affects ago. This journey through my husband's illness as well as my own has taken me through a lot of workshops and personal research.
I write all of this to explain that I do not hold a doctorate degree in any field, although higher education is part of my plans for the future. But, I have worked to become an expert as it relates to the health of my family. I credit the National Association for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) for that realization. Every person who must deal with mental illness has the ability to become an expert. It is imperative that we do so to become the advocates that our loved ones need us to be.
I hope you never have to leave work to attend appointments with a spouse who's unable to speak for him or herself. But as a person who has had to do exactly that, I'm here to tell you that you can live through it. Not only that, you can be so informed and empowered in the situation that the medical professionals you encountered will ask where you received your training. In fact, it is my intention to equip you with the information you need to secure the best care possible for you and the ones you love.
No comments:
Post a Comment