Remembering the shock of it all…


I was just talking to bRaving Bipolar on the phone about our trip through bipolar land since she’s been diagnosed in April 2012, and a little before that since she had a manic episode starting in December 2011.  

 

I slowly saw my life come apart around me and I wondered what had happened to me that I missed all of the gradual changes that made everything from what it was when we got married, to what it was when she started having the manic episode.  It was as if I woke up and in my mind had missed years of the marriage and she was angry with me.  I could never do anything right, I was unattractive (she told me this, more than once, fucking ouch), and I spent every evening she was at work (5 or 6 a week) literally trying to figure out how to change myself or do things differently to make her happier and to make her want me and love me again.  

 

The rational thought never crossed my mind that something was wrong with her until mid January when we were conversing about something and she mentioned that she would have sex with other men if I didn’t have a problem with her doing it because it was “just sex”, there was no emotion involved.  Now I could’ve reacted a few different ways, and I haven’t always reacted the best to new information from her.  Realistically, berating your spouse for having a fantasy is probably a good way to NOT hear about the rest of them.  I think my cold, tingly internal feeling and “what the fuck?” was more appropriate having been told in the last month how wrong I was doing things and how unattractive I was-I felt threatened and I’d just heard that the only reason she wasn’t having sex with other men was because it would offend me.  In my head, if her reasoning had fallen to making me responsible for that choice, eventually she’d make the choice on her own and do it anyway.

 

A few weeks later she was spending a TON of time on her phone and sitting in ways that I couldn’t see the screen.  It was weird because she was getting emails or texts at a rate faster than I could count (which I later found out, was at a rate faster than she could count either, even in her manic state).  That lasted into the evening, I woke up and saw her on the phone in the middle of the night, and the same thing the entire next day.  I went to the store to get something and saw a weird email address that had the phone number as the name, and it was a number I didn’t recognize.  I had the password to her gmail accounts, so I checked out the inbox: nothing unusual; checked out the sent items: bingo.  She’d sent some sexy pictures of herself to an address I hadn’t seen before, but could piece together because it was the month and day of her birth (in 4-digit format) and her initials.  I convinced her to put the kids to bed, grabbed her phone and opened her gmail app; nothing.  Opened the browser, saw the gmail and subject lines, and died inside.  

 

The 2 months after that were probably the weirdest months of my life.  I don’t know that I have words to describe them.  I was in such a state of emotional shock that I would cry while driving to work, and dread coming home, but I was “happy” that we weren’t getting a divorce and that I was reaching out and getting a little revenge on one of those mother fuckers she was emailing who violated my sleeping area; not a physical violation.  On top of this she had started to tell me about her hypersexuality, which I had kinda been experiencing (finally, I felt attractive again!) but we didn’t know what it was, only that she was so sexually excited by anybody that showed interest that she would shake (her words).  

 

The only way that I can think of to describe it is being completely numb to the world without being drunk, not caring about anything that goes on around you, laughing at inappropriate situations, and happily embracing the impending doom with a Heath-Ledger’s-joker-like smile.  Madness.  

 

At the end of the 2 months she was acting weird again and writing excessive amounts in her “therapy” journal, and the next day it wasn’t laying about in the open like it usually was, so I figured some shit was going down, or was about to go down, and something was in the journal that I should know.  I read the journal, found out about the affairs, and felt my emotional heart beat for the first time in months.  I was PISSED THE FUCK OFF.  The next day we went to see her therapist, a previously scheduled appointment, and her psychiatrist, and she was diagnosed bipolar.  I really didn’t give a shit at the moment, I was still dealing with my own feelings.  I probably shouldn’t have gone with her.  It took me a few days, but I did finally start to read about what bipolar was and what that meant for us and our kids.

 

Anyways, I’m going to get back to slaying kids on Battlefield 4 and wait for bRaving to come home from dinner with her bipolar support group.  It’s so nice to have everybody back under the same roof again 🙂

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Migraine and forms of currency…


Had REALLY crappy sleep last night after some REALLY good sex.  Thanks bRaving Bipolar!  Because of the really crappy sleep, and my rock hard pillow, I’ve had a migraine all day and feel as if I’m sick.  Despite that, our family went out to a local mall and the kids played at the kid’s area while we watched.  After that we had lunch in the food court, came home, I took our oldest two to get a new pillow for me.  I’m a side sleeper, so I need a firm pillow, but it needs to have some cushion.  After returning home, had an interesting discussion with my wife.

She feels that sometimes when I say she can do things, like get her nails done or go out by herself to eat, and ask her for sex later, that I’m asking for “payment” for those things.  In reality, she’s partially right.  I never attach sex to anything that involves her leaving the house; for example when I can see that she’s stressed I will send her out for lunch/dinner/whatever.  The things I do attach sex to are things that I do around the house.  I don’t do them with sex as an expectation.  I do it with a hope that she will notice I’ve put significant effort into something that will make her happy, and hope she’ll reward me with sex.

Some of my issues with sex have gone away; not really an impulse anymore.  It doesn’t consume my thoughts and makes me wonder if it was ever an “addiction”, and instead it was just an extremely high sex drive and coping mechanism.  Either way, it doesn’t cause impairment in my day anymore, and hasn’t for a month or two.

Back to doing things for sex, she can testify that going the extra mile generally isn’t enough for me; the standard I set for myself is to go 10 extra miles.  If I told her when I was doing something hoping she would have sex with me, and when I wanted to go above and beyond just because I wanted to make her happy and by proxy, me, she would probably easily see a pattern.  Even the times I do go the extra distance for sex, it is just a secondary motivation; the things I did still needed to be done, I just do A LOT of them at one time, to a high degree, and organized it in a way that she can continue the next day if she chooses.

I told her I wouldn’t use chores as a currency for sex anymore, I don’t want it to be like that.  We have some marital therapy tomorrow, followed by a date to Buffalo Wild Wings.  New marriage therapist, so we’ll see how that goes.