We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
But I need roller blades!
is one memory that sticks out in my mind.
gone to see Seth at his apartment. He had no furniture or dishes.
slept on the floor.
asked me if he could move “our” bed to his apartment, so he could have a bed to
answer was “Umm.. No, you moved out. If we get divorced we will separate our
belongings at that time”.
angry with me.
it was my fault he was sleeping on the floor in his
remember looking around his apartment, and noticed a box of brand new roller
blades. I asked him how much they cost him, and he said “$300”.
“You know, rather than sleeping on the floor, you could have bought a bed with
angry and said “But I need roller blades!”
“So having roller blades and sleeping on the floor makes more
see it “clicked” in his head.
was saying made sense to him.
see the anger subside. He realized I wasn’t the enemy. I was trying to
pretty baffled how something that was common sense to me wasn’t common sense to
wasn’t the Seth I knew.
Seth I knew would have thought about this rationally. The Seth I knew wouldn’t
sleep on the floor in order to have roller blades.
asked me if he could borrow $300 from me to buy a bed.
WAY more money than I did, yet he wanted to borrow money from me, to buy a
he just barely bought $300 roller blades.
wanted me to sleep on the floor in our house, so he could have a bed at his
manic episode, it made sense to buy roller blades, and ask his wife to sleep on
the floor, so he could have a bed to sleep in and have his roller
him the $300 and made it very clear he owed me the money. After all, we weren’t
“together”. He lived somewhere else so it was no longer “our” money. It was MY
money, and he owed me every cent of it back.
he paid me back.
roller blades now sit in my garage, being used only once.
after that counseling session, Seth called me and asked if he could move back
answered “Of course, if you get medical treatment”.
moved home just before Halloween 2008.
him to the doctor, where he was diagnosed with bipolar type 1. Wanting a second
opinion and confirmation of sorts, we took him to two other doctors, and
ultimately receiving the same diagnoses.
his diagnoses, I read everything I could find on bipolar type
I knew the suicide rate with people that have bipolar type
suicide rate is 70%.
started treatment. The medications seemed to help some but also seemed to make
some things worse.
always had an underlying depression.
depression wasn’t the scary thing for me. It was the mania and
least with the depression he could think clearly. He would sleep and be
depressed, but he still had a clear head.
was manic, he was all over the place. He would start 20 projects, had brilliant
ideas, he was always on the go. However, with the mania came the hallucinations
and voices. He wouldn’t sleep or eat for days. He would get paranoid,
overwhelmed and scared. He said he had about 5 different voices in his head.
They were always whispering and he could never really make out what they were
came the depression.
projects he started wouldn’t get finished. He would sleep, eat, and drink too
much booze. He would then feel like a failure because his projects never got
rapid cycled between mania and depression. Sometimes he would cycle monthly,
sometimes daily. Because he cycled so fast, getting him stable was always
the rapid cycling, by time we got him to the doctor, we were already a day or
day was a struggle. We kind of just bumped along, hoping to get him
put on lithium (which was the best medication he ever took), antidepressants,
antipsychotics, anxiety medication, sleeping medication, and an “emergency”
medication that would pull him out of mania quickly.
2009 rolled around. He still wasn’t stable.
April 1st. I was at work. For some reason, I had a horrible feeling
something was wrong with Seth.
work and went home.
walked through the front door of our house… I knew…I just
looked for his medications that I had just filled the day before; all the
bottles were missing…