original date 7/18/2015
A couple days ago, my ex-husband turned 50, and I was transported backward in time to when I was still married and thought about all the great ways I would plan a memorable 50th birthday for him. It's crazy that I thought about all that long ago planning when we've been apart almost as long as we were together. Almost as quickly as the thought of the celebration entered my mind, so too did the tragic ending of my marriage. It was tragic because it could've been saved with a bit of intervention. All this time later as I have sought understanding and acceptance, I am provided with healthy opportunities to grieve the loss: the loss of potential and the loss of innocence for a 32 year old mother of 3 small children.
One of my ex sisters-in-law told me at the time of the initial separation that the family had hoped I would be strong enough to handle the ex.
"To handle the ex" - code for handling the effects of mental illness without the support of others.
The tragic ending to my marriage was due to the effects of mental illness. Three years prior to the initial separation, the ex-husband was diagnosed as manic depressive. He would spend days in bed without eating or speaking to anyone. He would withdraw into his own world when he wasn't sleeping. On the opposite side of the depression was the hyper activity where he would go a couple of days without sleeping and talking in circles. I would find him awake at 3 a.m. trying to instruct one of the children on how to clean their room or wanting to color. The children were confused and exhausted.
Any attempt to discuss his behavior would often abruptly stop the behavior and cause a day or two of anger. In the last year before the separation, the ex would literally disappear on his way to or from work. This was pre cell phone, so I would have no way of knowing what had happened. I would load up my three small children and drive the 15 mile route from our home to his place of employment, make calls to the sheriff's office, hospital and family members. The first time the ex disappeared, he turned up a couple days later at his father's home and would remain there for a week.
The last time the ex disappeared, he was missing for 10 days without anyone knowing where he was. When he finally returned, he said he had spent the time literally living in his car. He was gaunt, dirty and looked shell shocked. There were 4 disappearing acts in that last year together, each one more severe, more destructive to our family than the one before. The last disappearing act brought delusions to our family, and I was often awakened to the ex rambling in the house at odd hours talking gibberish. He would say things like needing to protect the children from "them". At only 32, I was confused, scared, saddened and hopelessly lost. I watched as my husband, the father of my children, my best friend disappeared.
When I turned to his family for support, I received little.
---------------------------------------- I will return to this post later; as it normally does, life stepped in and altered my original intent. Re-reading this this morning, I thought I should post it already and do a followup later. Geeze, my life is a collage of so many things; and that is a great idea for a future post.
A couple days ago, my ex-husband turned 50, and I was transported backward in time to when I was still married and thought about all the great ways I would plan a memorable 50th birthday for him. It's crazy that I thought about all that long ago planning when we've been apart almost as long as we were together. Almost as quickly as the thought of the celebration entered my mind, so too did the tragic ending of my marriage. It was tragic because it could've been saved with a bit of intervention. All this time later as I have sought understanding and acceptance, I am provided with healthy opportunities to grieve the loss: the loss of potential and the loss of innocence for a 32 year old mother of 3 small children. One of my ex sisters-in-law told me at the time of the initial separation that the family had hoped I would be strong enough to handle the ex.
"To handle the ex" - code for handling the effects of mental illness without the support of others.
The tragic ending to my marriage was due to the effects of mental illness. Three years prior to the initial separation, the ex-husband was diagnosed as manic depressive. He would spend days in bed without eating or speaking to anyone. He would withdraw into his own world when he wasn't sleeping. On the opposite side of the depression was the hyper activity where he would go a couple of days without sleeping and talking in circles. I would find him awake at 3 a.m. trying to instruct one of the children on how to clean their room or wanting to color. The children were confused and exhausted.
Any attempt to discuss his behavior would often abruptly stop the behavior and cause a day or two of anger. In the last year before the separation, the ex would literally disappear on his way to or from work. This was pre cell phone, so I would have no way of knowing what had happened. I would load up my three small children and drive the 15 mile route from our home to his place of employment, make calls to the sheriff's office, hospital and family members. The first time the ex disappeared, he turned up a couple days later at his father's home and would remain there for a week.
The last time the ex disappeared, he was missing for 10 days without anyone knowing where he was. When he finally returned, he said he had spent the time literally living in his car. He was gaunt, dirty and looked shell shocked. There were 4 disappearing acts in that last year together, each one more severe, more destructive to our family than the one before. The last disappearing act brought delusions to our family, and I was often awakened to the ex rambling in the house at odd hours talking gibberish. He would say things like needing to protect the children from "them". At only 32, I was confused, scared, saddened and hopelessly lost. I watched as my husband, the father of my children, my best friend disappeared.
When I turned to his family for support, I received little.
---------------------------------------- I will return to this post later; as it normally does, life stepped in and altered my original intent. Re-reading this this morning, I thought I should post it already and do a followup later. Geeze, my life is a collage of so many things; and that is a great idea for a future post.
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