Summer Depression

As most of you know, my loving husband is bipolar. On the day that I said, "I Do", I fully understood the world of marrying a bipolar man because my father is also bipolar. I know the good and the bad and the down right ugly. I know the uncertainty and the constant fluctuations. I know all of this. And yet, when a bad time finds itself on my doorstep, I am always shocked and saddened and in disbelief that THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME ME ME ME ME. WAHHHHHHHHH!

June is quickly approaching. Though my husband is your classic rapid cycler (meaning his moods can fluctuate in hours or days and are not always predictable with seasons or such), June is always a bad month.

It is his most depressed month of the year. With my husband's disease, his mania is always a grand time. We love Ziggy manic. Things get done, projects are finished, we laugh, we dance in the kitchen, we laugh more and we enjoy life. When the depressed Ziggy shows his face, that's when we all want to run and hide.

Like I said, it normally hits in June and whether it be the baby on the way or the renovations in the house, it has arrived early. (Bipolar, or at least my husband's is extremely affected by changes in routine, so that is why I am stating these possible reasons for the early arrival.)

I must give TREMENDOUS props and Thankgiving for the blessing of the book, "Depression Fallout" by Anne Sheffield. Without this book, my husband would either have been kicked out to live with his mother or 6 feet under with the bloody knife caught in my hand.

This book has saved our marriage/relationship June after June after June. While the book focuses on Depression, it does go into Bipolar and since the Depression is our main problem point in our marriage, it is extremely appropriate.

Depression Fallout is the side effect disease that the "healthy" spouse can and will develop is he/she allows the sick spouses behavior to infiltrate their own core.

I start out EVERY June making the same mistakes over and over and over again. I plead. I beg. I cry. I yell. I make him sleep in the other room. Nothing ever works until I pull out this book, kick myself in the ass and move on with life.

The depressed spouse will VERY rarely admit to their depression or to their faults. Ziggy now knows this book. He's read parts of it himself. I've highlighted it and read parts to him in healthier times. We've discussed it. When he sees me reach for this book in exasperation, this is usually when he finally realizes, "oh shit, it's that bad and I better start working o n finding that damn light."

See the main part of the book's point is this - WALK AWAY. Don't leave them. But do NOT give in. Never let them see you sweat. You give them their meds, keep the house clean, take care of the kids, kindly tell them you hope they feel better as they go to sleep at 6:00pm every night and then do everything in your power to go on with life without them, and have total normality for you and your kids.

Within two weeks of doing this, it's like magic. I suddenly feel better. The house is happier. Life has moved on and eventually if Ziggy keeps his doctor appointments and I communicate with the doctor and his meds are adjusted, eventually he comes out of the darkness and rejoins life.

Now you may ask - why the free ride? Why does he get to behave so poorly and then just be forgiven and allowed back in? Well, my friends, this is where you can separate the newbie bipolar spouse from the seasoned one. My father helped "season" me for Ziggy probably a decade sooner than I would have, but here is the bottom line:

BIPOLAR AND DEPRESSION ARE DISEASES.

If Ziggy had cancer and was feeling ill from chemo for a month, I wouldn't yell and cry at him and leave him or walk away from him, right? Bingo. When you separate the person from the disease (which the book teaches you), you are able to love from afar without building up resentment and "you owe me's". Ziggy's depression is putting him in bed at 6:00pm and making him a cranky unruly beast - not Ziggy himself. He has a doctor appointment on Monday and we will get there - sooner or later, we'll crawl out.

He takes his meds and keeps his appointments and for that I am grateful - you have no idea how lucky I am just for him doing that. When he seems open and ready to talk, I open up and communicate with him about how his actions are affecting me. When he is beastly, I just keep my mouth shut and move on. It's not eggshells, trust me. It's just respect. He's sick right now and when he is open to a little truth, I give it to him KINDLY but honestly. When I can tell that he is shut off, I go about my own business.

And when he comes out of the fog, there is no parade for me. I don't get flowers or a trophy. Life just returns to a happy normal. Him coming out and being normal for me is all the thanks I need. It's like a cancer patient going into remission. A cancer patient doesn't go into remission and come out and throw a parade for their caretaker - normally it's the other way around.

During this bad time, Ziggy will be cheered and smiled at and loved upon for glimpses of good behavior. When he's sunken into his disease, life will go on around him and after 4 years of this (this is our 4th June together since his diagnosis), I know that him sitting in the dark hearing our lives go on without him hurts him tremendously even if he barks and yells at us while it's happening.

Tonight he was open to a bit of discussion and it was good. For ten minutes, I got to see and be reminded that Ziggy is in there and he will be coming back soon. I got to tell him how alone I was feeling. I didn't get a hug yet, but I'm close. Usually when the hugs begin, that's when I know he's really fighting to come back.

Until then, I read and re-read my used up and tattered copy of this book and all it's highlighted parts and I get the strength to grab my kid and do the hokey pokey and go to the park and make good meals and just...live.