Today is our 6th anniversary. I never thought we would seperate. I never thought I would lose my b’sharet. I still hold hope that you will get better and be able to manage your illness.
I cannot even begin to imagine the hell that is your thoughts and feelings. I joined a support group, and continuously research the topic. I want to help you, but everything I say or do makes you worse. The different medicines make you so volatile.
The hardest part of worrying I will never have my spouse back is knowing you have no control over this. Taking care of you is my 1st priority, but you don’t share your feelings. I take the brunt of them.
I can do it. I love you and you deserve patience and understanding. I can handle the abuse, because I know it’s not you.
As this has escalated, and we decided you needed to leave, it broke my heart. This is not the life we wanted for our son. We adopted him to give him a stable, loving home, but when you began to take your frustrations out on him I knew this is what had to happen.
In a million years I never thought we would be here. Every night I go to sleep in our Cal King we bought because you are so tall. Without you there, I feel so small, like I a have been set adrift and am drowning in my loneliness and memories of our marriage.
As I lay here on our 6th anniversary, I pray for you to feel better, and to come home to us. I know we are not the only family to be torn apart by bipolar, but I really, truly never thought we would be here.