When You Can’t Win For Losing
It’s been a rough spring around our house. But at the same time, it’s been better than each one before it. So I feel like I should be grateful, and I feel guilty for feeling emotionally exhausted all the time, but there you have it. I feel what I feel, and it is what it is.
I belong to some support groups for “significant others” of people with bipolar disorder, and I can tell you from years of observation and experience that, among our ranks, May is a rough, rough month. In a bit of black humor, someone somewhere began referring to this month as “May-NIA,” and that stuck. Even my own spouse, who is faithful and dedicated to his mental wellness, and takes his meds and tries to stick to healthy routines, has periods of “breakthrough” hypomania in the spring. Do what we will, the force of springtime will not be denied. Every year I’m struck with jealousy over other people’s rejoicing in the coming of spring…they’re planning their flowerbeds, washing their windows, de-winterizing their mowers, while I’m monitoring the bank account, trying to keep things quiet, and generally just scattering a fresh layer of eggshells across the floor for us to walk on. I dread spring. And to be honest, I resent having to feel that way.
In the beginning of our journey with this illness, post-diagnosis, I lived in a state of wary watchfulness. In the first year, there was a significant relapse, so after that I was pretty much in constant readiness, watching for that sign that would indicate that everything was about to go south again. If he was 5 minutes late, or didn’t answer his cell phone one time, I just knew that “it was happening again;” that he’d disappeared, he’d “run,” and that, since that was the line I drew in the sand when we decided to stick this thing out together, that our marriage would, consequently, be over. I literally went through this entire thought process on a regular basis. It was a long, long time before I could make myself continue to breathe normally in the face of even a small unknown. But I learned, as time went on, how to focus on myself, to trust myself, and to breathe.
As more time went by with no full-blown episodes, something odd happened. I did manage to stop living mentally perched on the precipice of disaster. I remembered who I was before I ever tangled with bipolar disorder. I realized that I’m smart (enough), capable (enough), and tough (enough) to handle whatever it could throw at me. And with that knowledge, I relaxed. A lot. But I didn’t anticipate what came next–what has been happening for the last couple of years.
My husband has expressed to me, often, the irony of managing a mental illness well–that is, that since he stays on top of his medication regimen, sees his doctor regularly, performs well at a regular job, etc., that people tend to “forget” that he has bipolar disorder. Then, when there is an episode of breakthrough depression or hypomania, the reaction is one of disappointment, like, “I thought you had this thing beat.” No one understands that it’s an ongoing, daily battle, and that there is no magic pill that’s going to work all the time. We “tweak” his med cocktail once or twice a year, at the very minimum.
I have caught myself falling victim to this same phenomenon, in a way, and I’m not sure it’s any better than the way I used to live. Instead of being constantly on edge, expecting things to fall apart any second, I now let even a couple of weeks of good times lull me into near-total complacency, so that, when there is a bump in the road, as there most assuredly always will be, I’m left gobsmacked, the rug pulled entirely out from under my happy little world. Every time this happens, I feel so stupid, because, of course, I knew better. But it is so altogether soul-wearying to live in that watchtower, that sometimes I just desperately want to come down for a while. To stay up there, watching, watching, watching, is to admit defeat, in a way…but more than that, that sort of life is really no life to have. It’s not just emotionally tiring; I can feel it chipping away at my physical health, with all sorts of symptoms I never knew before I met bipolar disorder, like anxiety, panic, depression, irritable bowel, nausea…this disease that I don’t even have is shortening my life.
But the alternative–life without my husband? No, that’s no life for me, either. Somewhere, somehow, there must be a way to find balance. I wish this post were more about answers.
May 18th, 2008 at 3:21 am
Why do we berate ourselves and say “we should know better”?
Why do we get so angry at ourselves when we feel as though we’ve been “fooled”?
We give a certain amount of leeway, and compassion for our loved ones who suffer from these illnesses, yet we can’t seem to muster the same for ourselves.
I did the same thing in a previous relationship, where my s.o. had bipolar as well and later developed drug and alcohol addictions on top of it all. I gave the benefit of the doubt, pardoned, had compassion for….and loved with all my heart.
It was 8 years of not knowing which end was up, where I stood, or if I really was to blame for all this chaos.
ALL of it ALWAYS being in the forefront of everything.Trying to stay ahead of the game….. but just as you… I started to see this once vibrant, happy person being eaten away by this disease.
May 18th, 2008 at 3:57 am
ugh! sorry..hit submit too soon. : /
I was getting sicker & sicker and finally I stood up and said ” can’t do this anymore- it was THE hardest thing I’ve ever done.I went against my word… I had promised I would never leave.I was confused, scared and getting sicker by the hour.
Less than 6 months after I left was when I was diagnosed with Graves disease… and my life since has been.. um interesting.
Answers? I don’t have ’em either. Suggestions? No. We’re all different.
All I have is the scars to show, the stories to tell… that I’ve been there too.
And all I have to offer to you is the words from my heart , that I admire your strength, your willingness to step up to bat and see it all the way through.
He sees it too and takes resposibility, staying ontop of things.
I admire him for that… not all take responsibility.
The two of you are best friends and that, in and of itself
is probably the golden key to many more successes in your live.
May 18th, 2008 at 4:20 am
It’s upsetting, yet some how touching, to hear about bipolar from the other person’s point of view. I have bipolar and my husband and I recently separated. I wish he’d been more vocal on how it was for him to be on the other side of my disorder.
May 18th, 2008 at 9:23 am
Living with a disability is a lot like this — the eggshells, the thinking things are “fine” only to find out they’re not. The advantage to a diability (if there is one!) is that society recognizes most disabling conditions as permanent illnesses. Mental Illness is still coming along on that path.
May 18th, 2008 at 11:20 am
If anyone can kick bipolar’s ass, it should be you. Or me, or Alex, or anyone suffering on either side of it. It has been a bad spring.
I am spending a lot of time meditating over accepting what is, and on reconciling eternal vigilance with the calmer notion of buddhist present-mindedness. It’s not sunk in yet, but it does give me a different lens through which to view the WORK that is staying well, and asking others to do the same. And every once in a while I slip. I am trying to be more forgiving about that (and the people “who were supposed to stop me,” ha ha ha ha)and less kicking my own ass for it. But it’s a struggle. I wish I had an answer for you, too.
May 18th, 2008 at 12:28 pm
Here’s my 2 cents as a person with this BP THING.
Often, those of us who are ill, forget that this THING is not just torturing us. I think that, in some way, we can’t bear the thought that this THING is hurting our loved ones.
We forget that you lose sleep, worry and sometimes become physically ill because of the THING. This is one of the things that makes me wary of getting seriously involved with anyone. I can hardly stand myself, so I can’t imagine why/how someone else could deal with me.
When you talk about walking on eggshells, I feel like we are the ones who laid those eggs. The thought that I could send someone up into that watchtower, makes me so sad.
Even from my very recent diagnosis and med tweaking, I have days when I am just sure that the THING has left me. Sometimes, just for a moment, I forget that IT will never leave.
I know you two & I know that there is balance there & that, hopefully, you will continue to have longer and longer periods of balance. That, occasionally, you can tell THE THING to piss off for a bit. And it will.
Now, THAT was a rambling bunch of mess. But I think you understand what I am trying to say.
May 20th, 2008 at 12:19 am
I really want to thank you for writing this. I was dating my boyfriend [and eventually fiance, though now boyfriend again] for 4 and a half years before I was diagnosed with bipolar II. I made a good run at destroying our relationship before I was diagnosed, and it always amazes me, the strength and resolve that he constantly displays [all before the legal drinking age]. He’s in my watchtower, and so are my parents, especially my mom.
I appreciate your strength to share your struggles and fears because it helps keep things in focus for me. I know how scary it is to live the disorder, but I can’t imagine how scary it must be to watch someone else live with it. Every time I read something you write from this very important perspective, I am bowled over by how simply amazing you are. It’s ok to not have answers; what matters is that you care enough to want to find them.