The most inconvenient time to have an emotional epiphany might just be while driving down a busy highway. Cars whizzing by at unsafe speeds around each bend, children arguing incessantly in the background over who farted, and miles of haphazardly placed construction cones apparently weren't enough to occupy my mind. It came seemingly out of nowhere. My eyes were suddenly stinging, and I had to throw on the scratched gas station sunglasses I thankfully had in reach to hide pools of uncontrollable tears threatening to pour down my face. Something about a weekend in the mountains cleared my head and made room for the first truly rational thoughts I had all day.
Memories of placing blame and finding fault made me sick inside. I realized almost immediately that much of the pain I have felt over the last year is entirely in my control, and therefore it is entirely my fault. My pride was bruised - and it was hard to admit - but I knew right then that the months of depression and anxiety I've faced with anger and tears cannot in fact be blamed on my husband.
He is, in my opinion, one of the most amazing men on this planet. Literally. He has the most tender heart with an intelligence that blows my mind constantly. He is fiercely loyal and has a level of determination that I could never even begin to match. I fell in love with him almost instantly, and 17 years later, I still know with all my heart that we are a perfect match for each other and that I am crazy about him. His intentions are always pure, and he teaches me to slow down and enjoy the moment. But as with everything in life, there must be balance.
My sweetheart also battles demons. Through some sort of cosmic lottery of misfortune, he has both the genetics and traumatic history that give way to significant mental health disease. Bipolar disorder, PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and agoraphobia are all terms of which I would have preferred to remain naive. Reading them on paper is bad enough. Living with the fallout day after day is unfathomable and can only be truly understood by those in the trenches. The hard reality is, the man I love wakes up every morning and has to fight and claw to even get out of bed. Day after day, without exception, he must wade through the muck that deadens his ability to enjoy daily life. I can't speak for his personal experience with this slew of diagnoses, but I can certainly tell you that it's not something I would be able to handle with the kind of dignity he has shown.
Being the loved one of a survivor of mental illness takes about as much out of you mentally, physically, and emotionally as you think you can possibly bear. And then some. There are days that my chest literally aches because I feel helpless to save him from the torment and pain. Other days I selfishly wallow in self pity and cry myself to sleep. This last year has been particularly difficult, and after several years of progress and emotional strength in the past, it frankly pissed me off that I was so emotionally destroyed every. single. day. Somewhere along the way I picked up a disgusting coping mechanism that temporarily allowed me to survive. But it wasn't without cost. I realized driving down the highway that summer afternoon that something deep inside me was blaming HIM for the hurt. I was placing all that emotional weight on the victim.
Disgusting.
For months, each time his illness caused a reaction or behavior that made my heart heavy, that selfish little emotional body guard deep inside would lash out emotionally at him. It was his fault I was lonely because he doesn't want to go out. It was his fault I had a messy house because he was too depressed to get out of bed. It was his fault I had a deep self loathing because he stopped long ago making me the center of his universe. With the tears spilling down my cheeks and into my lap, I felt a peace come over me as the thoughts rolled through my head and fell into place.
I imagine many great epiphanies are similar to my own. The bits of information have been there for a while; Various pieces of the puzzle sort of milling about, waiting for the right trigger to bring them together. Then BAM! They fall perfectly into place and the image that once resembled a hodgepodge of random phrases, ideas, and memories suddenly makes sense. The picture that came into view for me was nothing extraordinary. In fact, it was down right generic. It was simply a phrase I found myself silently repeating.
All couples have trials and struggles. This just happens to be yours.
My newly cleared mind was putting together all the random pieces I already had bouncing around in there all along. Every single marriage in the history of time has had difficulties. Some families face physical health problems, others fight constantly over money; There's abuse, neglect, infidelity, distrust, selfishness, deceit, and the list goes on.
Never once in my marriage have I had to deal with any of those horrible tragedies. And through it all, even as my husband has battled the ugliest emotional pain that no one should ever have to face, he has showed me active love. My support system through my own personal trials and in walking hand and hand with him though his has always been him. Pretending that without this trial I would be happy and that his illness is the sole reason I am sad is a shameful fallacy. It's a lie I tell myself because placing blame is so much easier than the truth. In reality, no matter what path my life takes, there will be roadblocks. There will be tear stained pillows and late night sob fests. There will be deep emotional pain that is almost too much to bear. Because that's just life. It's not fair for me to blame it on his illness, and it's petty and immature for me to continue to place any sort of blame on my husband who has only ever been nothing short of amazing.
The crummy part is, bad habits are hard to break. I found myself yesterday placing blame again right where it doesn't belong. Catching that train before it derailed me again was empowering. Taking away the power of those thoughts of blame leaves room for peace. Chasing away blame left a hole that I am choosing to fill with love and a deep admiration for the man I love.
Memories of placing blame and finding fault made me sick inside. I realized almost immediately that much of the pain I have felt over the last year is entirely in my control, and therefore it is entirely my fault. My pride was bruised - and it was hard to admit - but I knew right then that the months of depression and anxiety I've faced with anger and tears cannot in fact be blamed on my husband.
He is, in my opinion, one of the most amazing men on this planet. Literally. He has the most tender heart with an intelligence that blows my mind constantly. He is fiercely loyal and has a level of determination that I could never even begin to match. I fell in love with him almost instantly, and 17 years later, I still know with all my heart that we are a perfect match for each other and that I am crazy about him. His intentions are always pure, and he teaches me to slow down and enjoy the moment. But as with everything in life, there must be balance.
My sweetheart also battles demons. Through some sort of cosmic lottery of misfortune, he has both the genetics and traumatic history that give way to significant mental health disease. Bipolar disorder, PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and agoraphobia are all terms of which I would have preferred to remain naive. Reading them on paper is bad enough. Living with the fallout day after day is unfathomable and can only be truly understood by those in the trenches. The hard reality is, the man I love wakes up every morning and has to fight and claw to even get out of bed. Day after day, without exception, he must wade through the muck that deadens his ability to enjoy daily life. I can't speak for his personal experience with this slew of diagnoses, but I can certainly tell you that it's not something I would be able to handle with the kind of dignity he has shown.
Being the loved one of a survivor of mental illness takes about as much out of you mentally, physically, and emotionally as you think you can possibly bear. And then some. There are days that my chest literally aches because I feel helpless to save him from the torment and pain. Other days I selfishly wallow in self pity and cry myself to sleep. This last year has been particularly difficult, and after several years of progress and emotional strength in the past, it frankly pissed me off that I was so emotionally destroyed every. single. day. Somewhere along the way I picked up a disgusting coping mechanism that temporarily allowed me to survive. But it wasn't without cost. I realized driving down the highway that summer afternoon that something deep inside me was blaming HIM for the hurt. I was placing all that emotional weight on the victim.
Disgusting.
For months, each time his illness caused a reaction or behavior that made my heart heavy, that selfish little emotional body guard deep inside would lash out emotionally at him. It was his fault I was lonely because he doesn't want to go out. It was his fault I had a messy house because he was too depressed to get out of bed. It was his fault I had a deep self loathing because he stopped long ago making me the center of his universe. With the tears spilling down my cheeks and into my lap, I felt a peace come over me as the thoughts rolled through my head and fell into place.
I imagine many great epiphanies are similar to my own. The bits of information have been there for a while; Various pieces of the puzzle sort of milling about, waiting for the right trigger to bring them together. Then BAM! They fall perfectly into place and the image that once resembled a hodgepodge of random phrases, ideas, and memories suddenly makes sense. The picture that came into view for me was nothing extraordinary. In fact, it was down right generic. It was simply a phrase I found myself silently repeating.
All couples have trials and struggles. This just happens to be yours.
My newly cleared mind was putting together all the random pieces I already had bouncing around in there all along. Every single marriage in the history of time has had difficulties. Some families face physical health problems, others fight constantly over money; There's abuse, neglect, infidelity, distrust, selfishness, deceit, and the list goes on.
Never once in my marriage have I had to deal with any of those horrible tragedies. And through it all, even as my husband has battled the ugliest emotional pain that no one should ever have to face, he has showed me active love. My support system through my own personal trials and in walking hand and hand with him though his has always been him. Pretending that without this trial I would be happy and that his illness is the sole reason I am sad is a shameful fallacy. It's a lie I tell myself because placing blame is so much easier than the truth. In reality, no matter what path my life takes, there will be roadblocks. There will be tear stained pillows and late night sob fests. There will be deep emotional pain that is almost too much to bear. Because that's just life. It's not fair for me to blame it on his illness, and it's petty and immature for me to continue to place any sort of blame on my husband who has only ever been nothing short of amazing.
The crummy part is, bad habits are hard to break. I found myself yesterday placing blame again right where it doesn't belong. Catching that train before it derailed me again was empowering. Taking away the power of those thoughts of blame leaves room for peace. Chasing away blame left a hole that I am choosing to fill with love and a deep admiration for the man I love.
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