Okay, so the quickest way to get the background established seems to be to post my past blogs. There was my "Shocked n Confused" blog, which had all of one post (for reasons that should become clear rather quickly), then the "Am I Complicated, Really?" blog, which had 7 entries - better, but again, the time is not always there. So, why try again? Well, as the *%&# seems to be hitting the fan again, I need to keep track of what's going on anyway, so I figured I may as well do it here. At the least, it will be a window, however brief or not, into life being married to, well actually separated from, someone with Bipolar Disorder. What else it might be beyond that, I don't know - I do know that there are many things I have many thoughts on, and that I do have a desire to share those thoughts, the only question is - will I have/find/make the time to do it, beyond what stems from necessity? Again, I don't know.
So, here is my intro from my second blog, which will give some background...
April 8, 2009
...so I am 33 years old, mother to two kids, my son, age 3, and my daughter, 6 months (tomorrow, actually). I am separated from my, um, never-boring ex-husband, who is probably 85% of the reason I feel like blogging in the first place. Despite belonging to a group for separated parents, I still feel starved for the comradery of other single parents. There's just something about single parenthood which, so far, is lonely, what with all of the happy "intact" families (I really hate that term, which let's face it, is full of connotations that are not in my favor) in my neighborhood.
Of course, if I'm honest, I don't really fall nicely into the 'typical' arena of separationhood, either, largely because of the way it unfolded and continues to unfold. Let me give the reader's digest version of the event(s). Okay, I guess I have to start with the pre-separation separation, in which my husband, following the best three weeks of our entire marriage, abruptly decided to throw our considerable financial investment in intensive couples therapy, which had been working wonders, out the window and flee. Basically he picked a fight, refused to let it be resolved (even rejecting my offer to give him exactly what he claimed he wanted), and then left. Within two weeks he was residing a half hour away from my son and I, claiming that all was well with the world, except that he had me in his life. I was, he said, pretty much evil and quite certainly wrecking his life.
Shortly thereafter he crashed and came to his senses. He checked into a hospital, having become somewhat hopeless about his situation and what he had done, and started asking about coming home. He was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder while he was in the hospital, which put a lot of the difficulties he'd been having in at least some perspective (e.g. his outburst and his difficulties dealing with his son were related to the severe physical and psychological abuse he'd experienced as a child). Still, I was somewhat ambivalent, until I got a severe case of the flu that left me unable to even get up the stairs. Well, he took this opportunity to swoop in and 'save the day' (aka check out of the hospital 'against medical advice' and take up residence with us once again, without actually checking with me first).
As uncomfortable as I was with the situation, I did feel a loyal sense of obligation to my vows. Since he was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress stemming from physical abuse during childhood, I felt that this would fall into the category of 'in sickness' and 'for worse', and I decided that I would try to work things out. My husband, previously very labile and prone to outbursts, seemed to really get it together over the next several months. Although he still went into the occasional tantrum, he was much more calm and helpful that before. The biggest issue - he still could not tolerate parenthood for more than a few hours at a time, at least solo. Okay, there were other pretty significant issues, like the tantrums and various addictions, but he was in therapy, and was being much more civil. Besides, my son was so relieved his Dad wasn't “working a lot” anymore...Yes, that's right - for three weeks I lied to my son and said 'Daddy is just working' or 'Daddy is working so much that he has to sleep near work right now;' I just couldn't figure out how to tell him about separation - he was barely two, after all - how on earth could I explain it to him in a way that made sense. And besides that - my son offered the excuse in the first place, so at first I was just choosing not to contradict his assumptions...that's reasonable, isn't it?
Long story short, things went much better and we decided to try for another baby (if you're thinking 'what was she thinking?' rest assured I had thought the same thing when I heard that my friend's friend was separated before their second child was born - I feel the sting to this day, because honestly, there was some definite judgement going on). It was a calculated risk on my part, but honestly after trying unsuccessfully for several months a while back I didn't really think we'd get pregnant for a while, anyway. Of course, this time we nailed it on the first try. Regardless, all seemed well - my husband seemed happier and more grounded than me or my family had ever seen him...until June. Then, suddenly, he was 'off'. I knew the situation was going to end badly, and there was no getting through to him. To this day I don't know what happened, but he wasn't his normal self: he was misinterpreting everything, he was having mood swings all over the place - even my son was acting up, because his Dad was so unpredictable. And then it happened...I came home from the park with my son and saw that his stuff was gone. My son simultaneously came down with a fever and had been shivering for the last hour, and a quick phone call to Telehealth sent us directly to the ER. My son cried for his Dad, but his Dad, despite numerous phone messages and texts, never came. In fact, once he found out where we were he took the opportunity to pack up more stuff while we were there...who does that? Honestly, I felt that the world had moved to a new galaxy where nothing made sense.
So, that was that - I was six months pregnant and a single mom to a 3 year old, literally overnight. I still can't quite believe that this is actually MY life...not some crazy lady down the street. Don't get me wrong, I was never exactly a poster child for how to live a typical life, but this? This was a little dramatic even for me, especially given that I'd pretty much become a nice, normal mommy-type when my son was born. The moment I became a Mom, I had let go of my need for drama. It seemed that my husband had not.
Sadly, even at the time I had a strange sense that this situation was going to be worst for my husband, second worst for our son, and probably best for me. Even at his “best” my husband spent so much time escaping his life and responsibilities that, honestly, I felt very much alone a good deal of the time. Now that my husband was gone (again), the worst thing of all was the emotional hell my son had to experience. It was unlike any I'd witnessed before. He would lie in my arms screaming and crying for his Dad until he would finally fall asleep exhausted, sweaty and sad. And all I could do was hold him and rock him and tell him I was sorry he hurt and that I loved him. He slept with me for the next two and a half months. There were weeks when he'd wake up in the middle of naps or at night, screaming and crying hysterically. After a while, as long as he felt my body when he reached out his arm he would drift back into slumber with maybe a whimper about his Dad. Eventually, a couple of weeks before the baby was due, I moved him back to his room with little commotion. I think he had had just enough time to adjust before the baby came. In fact, interestingly, while he seemed happier by that time, he almost seemed “back to normal” once she actually arrived. So, we became a family of three, and we found our new normal pretty nicely overall.
My husband is still pretty much AWOL, dealing with addictions, suicidality and the like. That's the biggest stress in my life - never knowing what will happen next with him, and having to buffer my son from his ups and downs. He doesn't see his Dad often, because he is so unwell, but he knows that this is why - I've told him that his Dad isn't well, that it's not his Dad's fault, and so forth. For the most part, though, he doesn't really ask questions anyway. When he's disappointed, I help him through it as best I can, and overall he actually seems like a pretty happy kid at this point. His sister is awesome, too - she pretty much sleeps most of the time (which, let's face it, is pretty convenient, given the situation we're in), and she's a lot of fun when she's awake. She and her brother LOVE each other, and their joy is certainly my joy.
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