Teetering on the Edge: Confessions of a Bipolar Husband

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

*Quote from Simon Petrikov*

Submitted: September 26, 2017

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Submitted: September 26, 2017




I was diagnosed only two months after we married. 

Thinking back now, I can see the warning signs in my past. Teachers complained about my recklessness and inability to socialize with others. One insisted I was ADHD and needed medication. My mother, being a type A personality, took their insistence as an insult. Despite going to therapy in my youth, nothing else was done.


Upon being first diagnosed as an adult, I was put on Prozac. I've bounced around since, from Lithium and Wellbutrin, to Lithium with Celexa, to my present day cocktail of Trileptal and Latuda. I was rediagnosed with bipolar one with rapid cycling. This is in combination with the PTSD I've been coping with for the last three years.


Back when my mania was out of control, it wasn't uncommon for me to slam cabinet doors in a rage and then immediately crumple to the floor in tears. James would be beside himself. Because of this, even now, he walks on eggshells around me.


Being that he and I are a same sex couple, I tend to see other men as a threat. In my mind, I'm not worthy of someone so amazing, and I grind my teeth when people who are far more stable and attractive show him any affection or attention. 


In the past, due to my jealousy and fragile moods, James would go to work upset. His friends would see this and begin to formulate their own opinions. This resulted in some pushing for us to break up, telling James they "only want him to be happy". Obviously, my reaction to this is to ask they drink bleach. I can appreciate that they care for my husband, but their understanding is limited and their meddling only causes stress, which in turn, causes me to cycle more.

I always tell James how amazing he is and how he is the most important person to me.  Though, I know this worries him because it puts too much on his shoulders.

I wake up everyday in fear of losing him. I worry that, one day, he'll grow weary and leave. I can see why he would, considering that I've attempted suicide and, up until recently, have resorted to self-harm. He's still nervous around me, he still has to deal with his friends seeing me as an abusive partner. He still has to make excuses for my instabilities. 

I can't promise I'll get better. But, I can promise that I'm trying. I acknowledge my faults and I'm working to fix them. I take my meds, I go to therapy, I meditate, I've cut back on my drinking.

Unlike some with my condition, I'm willing to work. I want to keep what is most important to me. James, I love you. Remember that when I'm not myself. 


*Just watch over me until I can find a way out of this labyrinth and regain my sanity*

© Copyright 2019 Richard Mapes. All rights reserved.

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