Today we celebrated our second wedding anniversary.
It’s been a crazy two years of marriage. I didn’t think it would be like this.
We met in college. A little college, that is growing in students now, in Stephenville. It was 2010. And I liked him, but I was with someone else at the time. Had I known what waited for me there, I would have chosen him then and there. But life, life has other plans. We went our separate ways and lost touch for a long time.
It wasn’t until I started this blog and the Facebook page that we reconnected. He found my page and liked it. Eventually he messaged me and we started talking again.
Our first date was on July 18, 2014. We went to San Antonio to watch DCI at the alamodome. I remember asking “what are we?”
After that, we were together long distance. We made plans to move in together and it happened.
It was rough the first few months, I’ll admit. We were learning to live together, both of us independent and set in our ways.
He had never seen the ugly side of my disorder, very few people did. Sometimes it came out, and he was there, always there for me.
We decided that, if we could put up with each other and our differences and quirks we wanted to get married. We were in love. We were close to each other, there for each other.
We got married on September 19, 2015. It was a beautiful little ceremony. My veil got stuck in the door as I came in. He surprised me with wearing a tux! He was so handsome. I was so nervous! He talked to me the whole ceremony to make sure I didn’t freak out, because I was on the verge of a panic attack. He was sick with pneumonia, but he was able to enjoy our wedding. It was beautiful.
Since then, things have been chaotic. He’s been sick with something that doctors aren’t sure what it is. The neurologist just said “we’re going to call it Upper Motor Neuron Disease, but I don’t think that’s what it is.” We’ve been in and out of hospitals trying to treat it, seeing doctors from all over the place trying to get a proper diagnosis.
My mental health hasn’t always been that great. I will cycle from being ok and stable to being suicidal with a plan in just a few minutes time. And when I go that low it’s hard for me to come out, but he’s always there for me. I’m more stable now. I still cycle, but I feel better. And he’s still there for me.
I had the opportunity to be there for him recently. It got so bad that we had to go inpatient. But he’s better now.
The point is, two years ago, I has no idea life would throw so many challenges our way. But because of those challenges, we are closer than ever. I’ve never been this close to anyone in my life, other than my mom. I can tell him anything and everything. And when we get upset with each other we talk about it instead of letting it fester. He’s my best friend and my soul mate. I don’t want anyone else but him. If I had the chance to choose him again, I would do it in a heartbeat.
He’s my favorite person and the one I want to spend all my time with, and it hard to be apart (yes, I know my BPD is showing.)
Two years and we have 3 dogs and 1 cat, we have a home that we are restoring, we have a plan for what to do with that home. We have a lot going on but we’re together and stronger than ever.
I love you baby. Happy 2 years with many more to come!
These are words spoken in wedding vows and they mean so much to me.
When we got married, I figured that I would be the one with the bad days. Having Bipolar Disorder gives you some ups and downs in life, days where getting out of bed is a feat in itself. But I found someone who has grounded me in safety and security. And when I have a bad day, it’s not as bad as it used to be.
Now, I take care of him. And some times, it’s not easy to do. Not because I don’t want to do it, I would do anything for him. I would change the world for him if I could. But some times, it’s difficult to watch.
I remember a test that we had to do, to see how his muscles responded to stimuli. No one prepared me, when we took vows, that in sickness and health meant watching a doctor basically torture your husband for a test. A test that he needed, but you could tell that it was painful.
“In sickness and health”, we really think of the healthy times. I see families together being happy, you don’t want to think about what happens when someone gets sick. And some times people think that sickness means just a simple cold or something. But a medical mystery? That’s something entirely different.
It’s been an adventure. With the good days and and the bad days, I can tell you that we have taken our vows seriously. We take care of each other. We take turns some times, and some days we take care of each other at the same time.
They don’t tell you, when you take those vows that you’re going to worry. Or that you’re going to want to know more, that you’re going to try to research everything you can to try and figure this out. They don’t tell you that you’re going to call every doctor several times a week just to get an appointment, or a certain medication refilled, or an MRI scheduled. They don’t tell you all of this.
But they can’t tell you that it makes you stronger. That it makes your marriage better. Love and marriage, sickness and health, it takes work. You have to want to work on it – I’ve seen illness tear people apart. But, for us, I feel like this adventure has made us stronger and made us love each other better.
I know in my heart that I love my husband more and more every day. I want to be with him and take care of him, no matter where this takes us. I want to grow our family together. This has brought us closer than I ever thought possible.
To my husband, I am so proud of you for being you. For waking up each day and fighting your battle. For loving me like you do. You are an amazing man with such strength, we can only keep going from here. Together, we will make it through this. You give me courage and strength when I need it. I will always be here for you. I’m proud of all of your accomplishments. I love you to the moon and back, Siempre por Siempre.
One year ago, in two more days, I was hospitalized for my depression. I was suicidal. I had a plan. I was going to take all the pills in the house, drink a bottle of alcohol, and die in my bed with a note that said I was sorry.
I was going to die. I was ready to die. I was sorry that I couldn’t make everyone happy, let alone make myself happy. I was sorry for everything and sorry that I couldn’t make it right.
But I told my counselor. I told someone what I was going to do. And they suggested hospitalization. I cried, for the entire hour I was there. I cried on the way home. I cried while packing. I cried to my best friend. I cried on the way to the clinic to get assessed, and on the way to the hospital. I was scared and worried. But my husband reassured me that this is what would be good for me to do. It wasn’t to harm me, it was to help me.
So, I got to the hospital. Intake took forever. But, Justin was there with me and was calming me, holding my hand and loving me and all my shortcomings. He was my rock when I was in the storm.
The hospital was fine. The first night was scary. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. They strip-searched me, which was scary and embarrassing, but I didn’t have to do the “squat and cough” thing, because, fortunately for me, I was on my period at the time. I got settled into my room and fell asleep.
The week to follow was great actually. I was pretty much stress free. I saw a doctor everyday and attended group therapy, which was really more of a joke than anything. I was able to call everyone everyday. I missed my friends and family though. I was able to see people Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.
I guess I knew then that things weren’t right at home. I was gone for a week and I knew that Justin was up to god knows what. We didn’t have much trust, but I was hoping that this was his wake up call. When I got back home, I wasn’t so depressed, until it came time for me to go back to work.
Work was a major stressor. I had panic attacks before and during work. The last night that I worked, I panicked and went home an hour after being there. Justin was pissed that I left early, I was just glad that I was able to go home.
I should have known then that things were different. That things weren’t the same at all, everything was a mess in my marriage. But I looked over it with the thought that he was just stressed out because of my episodes. I never realized how he really felt, because he kept everything so deep down inside of himself. When I asked him if he wanted out, he had said no. We lived like this for months.
It’s crazy how much can change in a year. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive disorder and PTSD in the hospital. My diagnosis has changed to Bipolar II disorder, Borderline personality disorder, and PTSD. I’m getting my medications checked on monthly, I’m attending therapy with my case manager Lisa, and I’m sleeping when my body tells me I’m tired. I am blogging more, whether it’s on here or on my Facebook page. I’m talking to people. I’m taking baby-steps to get back where I was. I’m making huge strides in becoming more self-aware. I am learning what I can handle and what I can’t, learning to put up boundaries for myself and my sanity. I’m learning to take better care of myself, like showering daily (yes, I know that sounds stupid) and washing my face each night. I’m learning to let things go. I’m learning what I want in life.
I’m doing a lot for myself. And I’m taking this time to reflect on my time in the hospital and all the trials that led up to that point. I’m visiting this moment with the knowledge that I am no longer that person that I was a year ago and that’s OK. I realize that I was in a down swing, and it’s ok to have those moments and that I will have more of those moments in the future. The goal is to let those moments pass and know that the sun will rise through the darkest night. I realize that my marriage falling apart wasn’t my fault, and that I did everything I was supposed to. It’s ok to visit these moments and reflect on what they offer, and then we need to move on.
My problem is the moving on part. While I realize it does no good to dwell on the past, my heart is still broken over these events. Eventually, with therapy and support from those I love, I will be able to turn the page from this chapter of my life and move on to the next. I have some faith and hope that things will turn around for me in the future. That I will find the one I’m supposed to be with and love with all my heart. Justin was not a good man for me. And that’s ok that I learned that lesson.
A year ago, I was a different person. It’s time to turn the page.
There is a song that sticks in my head when I feel alone. It’s called “My World” by Sick Puppies.
This has been a really tough year. It’s only half way over, and I’m already ready to see the next year and hope that it holds better fortune.
My husband and I separated in August of 2013, after almost 3 years of marriage and 5 years in a relationship, he called it quits. At the time, it really hurt. It still hurts. But in hindsight, I saw it coming. I knew that after my hospitalization last year, that our marriage was done. He held on long enough for me to get stable and then he was done. Meanwhile, he got involved with a girl named Tasha, a resident in Hico with a child. Now, he says that there was nothing going on when we were together, but I know that’s a lie. Because I know Justin, and I know how he acts when he has a girl on the side. I’m not an idiot, I see signs. Plus, he moved in with her not even two weeks after he kicked me out. That’s not my point.
We got divorced in March of 2014. Four days after his birthday, to be exact. He got stuck with all the debt that occurred while we were married. He got mad, of course. Threatened me, of course. But now he’s moving on. He posted on his Facebook page about our divorce: “Officially divorced!!! Gonna go get drunk and party tonight! Yee yee!” The comment below, someone said “I’m sorry”. He came back with this: “Dont be sorry. Im finally free from the crazy depressing psychotic suicidal wench that ruined the past 3 years of my life.” It hurt. A lot, when I saw that. It felt like my heart had been ripped out again.
I talked to my case worker today. She’s like a counselor and I can talk to her about anything. I told her all the things that has been going on, and what I had found out about Justin. She asked me if I thought I had a “bad picker”. You know, always picking people who are bad for you. i think it’s something to do with being Borderline. We face abuse at an early age and I think that we mirror that in our relationships. Finding those who are bad for us and abusive in their own way. Justin very rarely laid a hand on me, but he was abusive emotionally, just like Donna was.
That’s another thing, too. Donna, who was my mother for 19 years suddenly up and left me because I started making boundaries for myself. That’s something that we borderlines are bad at. Finding our boundaries to protect ourselves. Finding what we’re willing to deal with versus what we are needing to do without.
Setting boundaries has never been a strong point of mine. And when I do finally set them, things seem to back fire on me. When I set boundaries with Donna, she walked away. When I set boundaries with Justin, he walked away. When I set boundaries with my ex-roommate, she was accusatory and violent – threatening me with the cops. Boundaries are important, and we all need them. To put them up to protect ourselves and our sanity, we have to be strong. And it’s hard when people want to do nothing but tear them down. People often like to push boundaries and break them. That’s why it’s so hard for us to stand firm.
I’ve had a bad run with men. All the men in my life have been abusive in some way, shape, or form. And they’ve all walked away at some point or another. One boyfriend turned out to be gay, one boyfriend raped me, Justin cheated on me while we were engaged and then again while we were married and he walked away, Jay walked away without saying a word. The important people in my life seem to disappear. This is why I don’t have many friends. Because when I let people in, they always let me down.
I may not have many friends, but that doesn’t make me crazy or sad or lonely. My life is full of love from those who are most important to me. And if you think that your words can rock me, they are like the wind blowing the tree. I might shift, but I never break.
Welcome to my world, where everyone I ever need always ends up leaving me alone. Another lesson burned, and I’m drowning in the ashes, kicking, screaming. Welcome to my world.