It's nearly midnight (the witching hour) and here I sit with the computer and a relaxation CD keeping the background. I love those CDs; they've sure been a tremendous help to me all the while I've been trying to cope with the downside of being bipolar. I do receive my share of manias and all the carnage that they leave behind.....anger..better recognised as RAGE is one of the most destructive effects of mania that I can think of. I was well known for my unholy rages (often provoked by non understanding husband) that would end up with my destroying so many many things..it didn't matter what was at hand, I'd throw (hurl) it and have the satisfaction of seeing the broken pieces lying on the floor! I recall heaving things out the window too, some never to be recovered.....Paul knew how to push my buttons and push them he did....I honestly think he got his jollies from triggering me like that and then telling my psychiatrist how nasty I was to him....(sounds like a case of wanting self pity)...I tried my best to be a good wife to him but it was almost impossible with all the moods swinging I was enduring.He would taunt and criticise me to the point that I was literally seeing red and often times he lost shirts because I would leap at him and tear them off in strips! Not to mention the various things that were whipped at him like (pots and pans, dishes, boots, etc) It strikes me funny now when I think of it but it sure wasn't funny at the time. He could be a decent husband if he wanted but he had his times, especially at the end when he developed an aneurysm in his brain and his personality changed completely....and not for the better....he was getting in trouble with the law and because of his terrible hateful attitude succeeded in getting us banned from various public places..it created immense soul breaking pressure on me....I have enough trouble keeping my own head out of water.....trying to cope with him (and not knowing exactly what was wrong with him) was quickly taking me to the breaking point.....I didn't have two clues what the problem was; I just figured he was developing schizophrenia or something because he was paranoid of practically everything and talking irrationally....I remember he developed a fear of helicopters believing they were coming to take him to the hospital to dissect him and take out all his organs for donation. No matter how often I tried to comfort him and tell him he was safe the irrational fear was still there....even to the point of having Donor removed from his health card. There's so much I could go into here but I won't..most of it brings negative memories to the foreground......at least he died in peace,, having gone into a coma and passing a week later. I wasn't with him when he died and I'll always feel bad about that. I am grateful, however that I was an inpatient on the psych floor when the news came in about him being taken to the hospital in Saint John after taking a fall in the apartment (he went into the coma then)..If I'd have been home I'd have never been able to cope..knowing me I'd have gone into a state of hysterical panic and not known what to do......I was on the psych floor due to the stress I was facing with Paul..just simply not knowing where to turn and in bad need of some respite....thankfully the hospital provided me a week at least. He passed after I was home a few days, and the funny thing was that I kept a clear head and was able to arrange most of the funeral and immediately pick up the pieces and move on with my life. I don't know why I was so calm and collected through that period when what I really wanted to do was cry and cry and cry some more....after all he was my husband since 1981 and we had many many wonderful times together..it wasn't all bad..most of it comprised of happy years. I think I was drugged to the eyeballs which cheated me of my need to mourn him in those early days. Now I'm making up for it. On the days when nobody comes to spend time with me I find my need for him is really overwhelming and I do cry. My heart feels so heavy and I wish he were still here with me. I'm all right as long as my friends stop in and spend quality time with me....man or woman, it doesn't matter. I need companionship, nothing else at this time. Eventually I'll want to start dating but not just yet.
As for my anger, rage, it seems to be gone. I think it died with Paul, and that's been a year and a half....I seem to have mellowed out and nothing bothers me much now. I know Paul was to blame for a lot of the rage I let loose, but other things did too....I was extremely volatile, (when manic) changing in a flash from mania to rage.....I drove away many wonderful friends with my foul, shouting mouth, and literally throwing them out of my house.....now I treat my valued friends like gold, having learned the hard way how to lose them. I feel a sense of loss when I think of the beautiful friendships I had only to destroy them in just a few minutes with my razor sharp temper. I don't live in my old town anymore; I'm living in the city now and have made some friends I love more than anything.....never ever have I risen my voice to them or shown any rage. I think maybe the ECT treatments I had (around 25 give or take) and the new medication (clozaril) may have helped in this area too.....God knows I hope so. If I do run into any more problems with my illness it certainly won't include mindless anger. I'm a changed person and (bipolar or not) I hope it continues that way.
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