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.

The Mighty Oak

When restless, I start looking to make changes. Some for entertainment and others out of sheer necessity. My most recent is for the latter and to save my children from yet another splinter-filled summer. I've spent HOURS tearing the dilapidated deck off my house and rebuilding a new and greatly improved shade-quenching one for my sunburned outdoor space. The new house doesn't have a single tree planted to take roots. Far different from the mighty Oak at my previous house, there's not a a bit of shade here. It's all open and unprotected. I pondered this while hammering the 136 nails into boards on the deck rails one afternoon. Protection.... what an interesting word. Dictionary.com states it is: the act of protecting or the state of being protected; preservation from injury or harm.

I realize that while the old house was my old life, there are a few things I miss from it. I adored that great Oak tree outside my dining room windows. I miss the shade it would cast into the upstairs bedrooms. The greatest storms would roll through and that tree stood tall and never wavering. The roots were strong and I never worried about its vulnerability. While living there, I thought I was joined with someone that was my protection and security, if you will. The toughest acceptance was realizing my protector was the one that actually destroyed it and took trust and a plethora of other mind-calming traits with it. 

Moving to the new house on a treeless lot gave me the opportunity for a fresh, unscripted start. I could finally take a deep breath and no longer felt I had a cinder block restraining me. Although I never want him back and that life is long gone, sometimes it's difficult to rely only on myself. Sometimes it would be comforting to rest my head at night knowing someone else has my best interest in mind too. Security is something a single woman just doesn't feel. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being independent, going about my business, and setting my own path. But it would be nice for just one night to hand over my fears to someone else and know I'm not in this alone.

The reality is I've only recently recognized the damage another person can do. I felt like I made it through the worst storms. I'm out, the kids are out, we are better now but the verbal and emotional abuse of the last few years have taken their toll. When things aren't as EX would like, I can surely expect him to spew every offensive and demeaning thought he has. Then it's a barrage of disgusting, belittling texts until my phone reaches capacity. Dependent on his "cycling" this may continue for hours, even days sometimes. I used to make a joke of it but the reality is I would rather be punched in the face repeatedly than subject myself to his immeasurable tactics. At least I could visibly see the damage and recognize this is NOT okay. I would never openly give him the satisfaction of crumbling, but it's difficult at times. The protection that was once so comforting is now what creates my biggest vulnerability. 

Tonight, I sit on the new covered deck looking into the yard. It's full of kid toys, swingset, pool and yet it feels so empty. Protection and security are not things you can see, but what you feel. It's having faith that those strong roots will hold even the heaviest branches up during trying times. I'm sure my mighty Oak in New Albany is standing tall even after the worst storms. I'm still standing as well and someday I will be as tall again too. Until then, I'm planting a few trees in this barren yard and you can bet one will be a mighty Oak.

Well SOMEONE Has Balls... or uh, NERVE!

Well, well, well..... seems I'm a pushover, a softy, an empathetic person.... estupido! It all started as the holiday season was approaching. My ex-husband was griping daily that he was becoming more and more depressed. Our preschool son's announcement that daddy wasn't family because he didn't live in our house seemed to fuel the unhappiness fire. So that helped set the stage for the ex's attitude moving near the holidays. Depending on his stage in cycling through bipolar, this can go one of two ways. Either he is screaming at me for "breaking up" our family, throwing things into the Christmas tree (last year) and being a complete self-obsessed ass or the gloomy blues exact opposite. Think of Eeyore... oh me, oh my... life is soooo bad. I just want my family back. They are all that matters now.... (He forgets he chose to sneak around with a woman... no, not a woman.... a girl for over a year while I was pregnant with our 2nd child and my Mom was dying. Something as you may notice, I do NOT forget.)

Anyway, so this year it's Eeyore... life is horrible and even my son doesn't love me. So what do I do? I "extend" just a little, small, smidgen. I tell him he can sleep on the couch Christmas Eve to not miss the magic of Christmas morning. That's uneventful primarily due to him sleeping through the night and I had the honor of assembling toys in peace. Then Christmas night, I had to work. The kids have a living room FULL of new toys, and I won't be here anyway so let them (with him) stay here and play.... right???? WRONG! After being awake for over 24 hours, I come home from work that morning exhausted, ready to change my clothes and climb in bed. It's all I think about as I head towards my bedroom- whew! I made it through the busy day of Christmas then worked nearly 14 hours. As I step in to my bedroom, I pause at first in disbelief. Spread out across my bed with only boxers on, his boys hanging out and all, HE IS SLEEPING IN MY BED AND NEARLY NAKED. Get up! Get up! HEY, wake up! Get out of my bed! NOW! All I can think is crap, now I have to wash my sheets again.

See, this is a huge boundary issue for me and a major no-no for him. Remember the post of loving my new bed and mattress set? It goes along with the being a grown up, letting go of that ugly past... which is laying on my NEW outlook, MY space, NEW as in not for you. As in why the hell are you hanging out of your boxers anyway when our 5 yr old daughter and 4 yr old son are in this house?? As in GET OUT OF MY ROOM!! Geez, the nerve of him! Ya give an inch.....