50 First Dates

Imagine if fifty first dates was written not as the entertaining comedy with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler but as a drama with the harsh reality of bipolar disorder and not the farce of amnesia.

This is the life of a bipolar spouse.  Your mate will lash out, be mean spirited and grossly over react in such a way to say very hurtful things not out of hatred or madness but without a clear understanding of the behaviour or it's emotional origin.

The next morning, you are asked to begin again without prejudice, without anger or without evidence of the emotional scaring of the day before.  Judge not, lest Ye be judged.  The principle is very real and a big part of faith but it's practical application is the hardest thing that any spouse of a bipolar partner must endure.

You must keep telling yourself that the sufferer does not understand what he or she is doing or why.  You must treat the previous day like it does not exist.  Like poor Lucy, yesterday does not exist.  

So I say to this, good luck my friends.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Lord, Grant Me Strength

My wife takes potent medication for sleeping.  Her body seems to like the old ways.  The old medications work the best for her.  These medications are powerful depressants, virtually anaesthetics.  They work wonderfully and she gets the rest she so dearly needs to function under the spectre of Bipolar Disorder.

Unfortunately, as any patient will tell you, often sleep is  the only effective coping mechanism in the survival kit.  Patients often take these types of medications too often.  They have to be closely monitored.  For my lovely wife, she is only allowed a seven day supply at one time.  This means she can only get carried away for a short period if. She is trying to sleep to survive as a coping mechanism.

Because of the harsh sedative properties of the old medications, they function almost like a drunken stupor.  The patient literally gets drunk tired.  Taking the medication is very much like a powerful shot.  My lovely wife will even shake violently as if swallowing a shot glass of whiskey.  I feel for her.  These experiences bring back many a bar memory from my youth.

The problem is the similarities with alcohol do not just end there.  If the patient does not achieve the respite of sleep, she is left with the other perils of alcohol, rage.  I have grown to understand this potential.  I have to be the strong one when she turns into the abusive drunk hell bent on hurting anyone and everyone.  I can take it.  I have the character strength to do so.

Usually...   Last night was the first time in a very long time that I got up to leave.  I know this is not her but she can be so hurtful.  I know that the causes of the rage are real and for the most part the causes come from me.  I play a part in this war.  The reaction may be over the top but the causes are very real.  

I normally understand that the abusive attacks are an over reaction but somehow deserved because of my actions but last night the hurtful end of the relationship attacks hurt me badly and I almost left.  I never want to be in that frame of mind again.  I love her with all my heart.  I write this as a catharthis trying to gather all my strength.  The strength to push on.

Grant me strength!