One Up, One Down

So Jerry is continuing to do better. His thinking seems to be back to normal, and his mood is improving. The weekend was fairly good - he was feeling a bit down, but was able to recognize it as a "physiological down" as opposed to a "because of _________ I feel bad." He also noted that he realized it had been a long time since he'd been able to identify that he moods were coming from a place within, as opposed to being caused by someone in the moment. That was very nice to see.

On the other hand, Dylan is suddenly coming home with "medium" and "sad" faces marked in his agenda. He doesn't seem to be able to tell me why, though, which is unusual, and I'm worried that his teacher is marking him more strictly or that he's having a hard time with being mean to other kids again (which, in my opinion, is the only good reason to give him a "sad face" for the day, since to me, being kind is more important than sitting still, etc.). So, now I have to meet with his teacher again after school to discuss the situation...again. I am so tired. Tired of worrying, tired of seeing my loved ones struggle, tired of feeling guilty for not being able to give my kids the "intact" family I know they so desperately want. I'm tired of trying to figure out if Dylan is testing his "meanness," or if he has so many angry feelings he doesn't know what to do with them or if he just doesn't realize it's okay to feel mean and that everyone does at time, but that doesn't mean that he's a mean person or that he needs to act them out.

Yes, I am tired. Tired, drained, sad, and feeling somewhat defeated at the moment. I just want everything to be the way it was last year - with my kid going off to school and doing well most of the time, and well within "normal," the kids being used to and happy with (for the most part, anyway), the schedule we had for "family" and "daddy time," not having to worry about Jerry, etc. I even told Dylan "hey, I know you can go to school, be kind to your friends, and keep your body to yourself throughout most of carpet time, because you did all of that last year. So, if you can go back to doing those things, sure I'll get you a Wii with the Wipeout game, okay?" He didn't like that he'd still have to wait until March Break to show me that he was going to do it consistently, but I pointed out that is still a lot less time to wait than 2 years (until he's 8 years old). Bribery...parenting faux pas? I don't really give a &%$# right now.

So, for now all I can do is go in and talk to his teacher and try to convince her to let him chose to sit at his desk if that is the only way he feels like he can keep his body to himself. We'll see - she said no that last time, but maybe now that her friend, who filled in for her for a week, let him do it and found that he made it work, she'll be more receptive to the idea.

On(wards) and Upwards

So Jerry called on Thursday to tell me his doctor had given him the go-ahead to stop his Valproex that day, and to start with a small dose of Lithium on Friday, with the dose being increased over the weekend, until he is back on a full dose on Monday. We kept to our plan to have him just come on Friday evening for a few hours. Much to my surprise, since I was expecting and prepared for some kind of withdrawal symptoms, I could see a difference in him immediately. His eyes were brighter and more alert, his face was not pulled tight with frustration and irritation - in fact, there was almost a relaxed, content look about it. He was much more engaged with the kids, despite still having his nasty cough (which I suspect is bronchitis), and did not seem as exhausted and run down. It's funny, because it was hard to put words to what I noticed from the moment he came in, but there was a definite, palpable difference - reminds me of what some people say about people having an energy field, and how it can be sensed if you're attuned to it. I don't notice it often with other people, but I seem quite attuned to Jerry's, perhaps out of years of learning to predict what kind of space he was in, so that I could be prepared? Who knows.

The one thing I was frustrated to hear was that his doctor was reluctant and concerned about putting him back on Lithium. Drives me a bit mad (excuse the pun) that he doesn't get what bad shape Jerry has been in, and how crappy things have been since the medication switch. I suppose I shouldn't jump to conclusions, since I have no idea what Jerry has told him about anything, but it makes me feel like I really want to meet with him, so that I can tell him what I experienced/saw since the change, ask him some questions (like what's up with all this nervousness about toxicity when Lithium is still considered the first-line choice for bipolar meds and has a reputation for being safe for many years, etc.), and address my concern about his take on my concerns (as reported by Jerry); according to Jerry, his doctor has been assuming that my concerns have been more a product of an "over-sensitive spouse" and not so much about the degree to which a spouse has become attuned to their bipolar spouse's moods. If someone had taken my observations regarding his shorter fuse and higher level of agitation seriously in the first place, perhaps even requesting to speak to me in person to get a better sense of the situation, this whole situation (including the damage done to the kids from the arguing, lost tempers, and ultimately, being scratched in the face by someone who really did lose control of their behaviour).

Oh well, for now, things are looking much more hopeful. In fact, yesterday was so good that Jerry and I decided it would be appropriate for him to come by this afternoon, and possibly tomorrow at some point. Hopefully it will be as nice as yesterday, and the kids will "get their fill" of their dad this weekend, which I don't think they have since school started.

An Intro From the Past

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.