A Walk on the Dark Side

I try not to be detail-specific about the last few drama filled years with EX. It has been painful... beyond painful. And ugly...  beyond ugly. It was a downright nightmarish hell that spiraled into dark lockdown corners of state run mental hospitals, drug induced frenzies in the shadows of Louisville's crevices, constant chaos and his uncertain future. It was shocking, mindblowing, so incredibly saddening to watch a person I once loved so completely almost destroy himself and nearly take me with him. I teetered between never "letting" him get lost in the dark to letting go and moving on with life. I awoke each morning knowing only that I had two wonderfully innocent babies to love and protect from the hell their dad was engulfed in.

Mental health issues can be such a deep, imploding hell filled with never-ending questions. You can't run a test to produce a spot-on diagnosis. You can't do a scan, see the problem, and correct it with certainty. "He was normal" would be a statement I'd repeat often as others shockingly learned of his internal fight. I repeated it often probably more in attempt to convince myself this was indeed real and not some horrid nightmare. One treatment facility after another would produce varying diagnoses- bipolar with psychotic features, narcissitic, manipulative, schizoaffective, schizophrenic, underlying abuse etiology, overwhelming guilt, the opinions could go on.

Ex's mental health began deteriorating as my Mom's cancer worsened with his first hospitalization just 3 months before she passed. One of his psychiatrists told me his first breakdown... and introductory desent... was related to the overwhelming guilt he felt for having an affair during my second pregnancy while I was also caring for my Mom. She loved him. She encouraged him and took a real interest in his life. He still says no one loved him more than she and in the most perfect way. But ironically, he didn't feel guilty enough to STOP the affair, to admit it while I stood beside him and supported him. I diligently took our babies on "family day" to visit him from one facility to the next. I later learned, the girlfriend would be there minutes after I left. She was probably waiting in the parking lot watching me load up a 5 month old and not quite 2 year old into our minivan. What a perfect picture of the great all-American family. A few months later, my mom passed, I learned there were three people in my marriage and the other woman was desperate to hold on to the remnants of their relationship. I needed clarity and separated myself, or thought I was doing so, but that was just the beginning.

The next year revolved around drug binges with a crack cocaine addiction, property break-ins, suicidal ideations and attempts to follow through. Neighbors were calling the police to my house at 4 am, mental inquest warrants were processed, court ordered treatments, broken arms by drug dealers... saying his life was dark is a grand understatement. It was incredibly difficult to protect my children from this life while still attempting to help him. I thought that is what I needed to do. Even if our marriage was over, I didn't want this life for him. He was once a great person and I felt he was still in there somewhere. My life revolved around what was happening in his... and I was divorcing him. Finally, I gave up. I threw in the towel. I waved the white flag. I couldn't save him or even try anymore. It was costing me my own sanity. He tested it by calling "in crisis" and when I didn't drop everything a most unexpected thing happened. He started to "improve" on his own. Seems my help, even after separation, was empowering chaos.

I will never say EX deserved this. No one deserves the hell of deteriorating mental health. The internal chaos he felt was punishment enough. The stigma attached is even more punishment. I see glimmers of that old person here and there but scars are branded in my heart, in my feelings, in my arms-length dealings with others. He finally has a better grip on his health so much so that he takes our children regularly. Unfortunately, he does still cycle quite rapidly. One day is quiet and it arrives with a newfound appreciation because the next may involve a barrage of belittling insults, ranting text messages, personal attacks. It has taken months to accept this is my future, their future, his future. How I react makes all the difference.

There's a fine line between acceptance and accountability. I have finally ACCEPTED this is the reality of a person with a brain that ticks slightly differently. With that said, a person is still ACCOUNTABLE for the actions chosen; even during manic phases. I will always have a connection to EX, we have babies together. I will always care about him even though it seems insane to my close friends, but boundaries must be adhered to and I can no longer accept less than civil treatment. I always thought my toughest struggle was actually divorcing my past life. Little did I know, the hardest is creating and maintaining my own healthy future.