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Health & Fitness

Overcoming Challenges: The Emotional Roller Coaster We Call Life

No road in life will be bump free; life's happiness is all in how well you can handle steering.

Several months after my short story Funny How Life Works was published in the Thin Threads Collection, I began to construct a formal version of the introductory chapters to a book that I had pieced together in draft form.  My goal was to see my project through to completion successfully.  However, several changes were emerging in my home life to cause enough of a distraction to offset my creativity pattern and stall my efforts over the next few months.

My husband had begun acting significantly out of character on a more regular basis than not.  His moods were extreme highs and lows, his spending habits had increased to the point where red flags were raised and he was not his typical ‘family man’ self.  Like any other married couple, we had our arguments but always worked through them.  In all honesty, he had always treated me very well, most times putting me above what even I expected from him.  He had dealt with depression and took medicine to manage it which I was aware of when we met, but this was a very different episode; he patronized me and was condescending and spiteful, but what I found even more concerning was that he was beginning to ‘disappear’.   Not only did he not come home after work, which he was apparently only showing up for randomly, there were many nights when he just didn’t come home at all.  The usual few beers he’d drink while mowing the lawn or cooking on the grill turned into a habit that was far beyond his typical routine.  What he used to consume over a few weeks’ time became his nightly limit.  I was beside myself; this was a man who looked forward to having supper with the family, who loved spending time in the yard with our boys.   Many of these qualities are what made me fall in love with him in the first place.  I was grateful to have found a partner who genuinely appreciated his domestic life and actually craved more of it.  The person who now stood in front of me was not my husband as I knew him, it was as if his spirit had been hijacked and I had no idea where to find it or how to get it back. 

The few individuals that I confided in assumed that he was having a mid-life crisis, yet he was only in his mid-30s.  Others were certain that he was having an affair.  The possibility that he had started doing drugs was also at the top of the list, and admittedly I was convinced that this was the culprit.  Of course I expected an affair to go hand in hand with that result, but first and foremost I was convinced that using was the root of his increasingly dramatic downfall.  The signs were obvious, but still something was amiss.  After days of staying away or weeks of being almost unbearable to live with where he literally appeared to be running on adrenaline, he would crash.  His personality would switch over to crying and withdrawn, apologies and begs for help, yet no specific reasoning behind any of it.  There was no remorse as if he had committed an act that he was ashamed of, it was almost as if he was just as unsure of who he’d become or what was happening to him as I was.

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Luckily, and I say luckily now, but I didn’t feel the same at the time; he disappeared again.  I found out where he was by tracing our bank cards.  He had been staying at a hotel a few towns from where we lived and drinking heavily in their lounge.  By this point, I had been trapped in this nightmare for far too long.  Things were not getting better and I had no choice but to start making real decisions, instead of just dealing with it.  Other family members had also given their best effort to intervene but alas, they were also unsuccessful.  It was time to put aside theories and rely on my instincts which told me that clearly something was mentally wrong with him.  There was absolutely no way he would willingly seek out professional help and the only option I felt I had to get him picked up and evaluated, was to report him as suicidal.  So I called the State Police, divulged his location and while they attempted to get him into custody, it was clear the officers had no easy task on their hands.  He was admitted into the psych ward and diagnosed with bi-polar, his extreme moods were a result of mania.  Apparently, the depression had another other side which finally decided to come to life and when it did, there was no mercy.     

To this day I am still grateful that I made that call.  Others might not have agreed with my method, but in all honesty it was the right decision.  The result was many difficult years of getting him to a point where our lives are stable again, where we are all healthy and much happier than we were for a long time.  In fact, I think we are a better family because of it.

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Unfortunately during those trying times, the story I had been writing was shelved and replaced with a more serious and dark tale.  It’s amazing how our emotions can direct us, even when outwardly others may never have a clue that your insides are ripping apart.  I relied on the same outlet that had brought me much happiness in the past and used it to release my hurt.  Ironically, the book is actually very intense, yet well written.  Only recently was I able to re-read it without feeling like I might fall apart.  I’m contemplating publishing it at some point; how true it is that some of the best works of art are a result of real life altering experiences.  Thank you.

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