It was a constant state of not knowing what to say, what to do, or which way to go. My actions were determined by the mood that he was in. I tried to gauge that the best I could, but my true detector was my dog, who had become an E.T. type companion for Dale. When I was unsure if Dale was in a fit or just a "regular" bad mood, I would pay close attention to Argyle's (the dog) actions. (He was very in tune with Dale, it was both amazing and creepy at the same time.) The climate of our home was determined by Dale and his mood. As the years went by, his influence became stronger as did the intensity of those moods.
So in the beginning, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to step aside and let him have his feelings/moods. It happened sporadically and wasn't so intense. We dated for 3.5 years before moving in and lived together for 1 year before getting married. I was already deeply vested and accustomed to this routine, as it had become, well before it became so pronounced and disturbing. It was like gaining weight. When you see yourself or another everyday, you don't notice a few pounds here and there. It's not until you've put on way too much that you truly notice and it has become a real problem. I had stepped aside so many times that I took myself out of the picture. Dale's illness took front and center stage and everything, everything, was effected by it. Our lives revolved around it.
Dale first attempted suicide when he was in 5th grade. He again attempted two years before meeting me, when a long time relationship ended. Those were the only two times that I was aware of until he cut himself in March of 2011. However, he was suicidal. We had many, many conversations about it. He shared his thoughts and perspectives on it as if he were talking about the weather. And I know he thought about it much, much more than it came up in conversation. It was disturbing. It frightened me. I was determined for us to never get to the point where suicide became a real option (even though deep down I knew it always was for him) and I would do anything to stop that from happening. I don't know when I took that silent vow, but when I did, that is when I began to walk on eggshells. Some people fear their significant other leaving them, I never feared that he would leave me if he was unhappy. I knew that it would hurt deeply, but that I could survive as long it was what was best for the both of us. I feared him leaving, as in dying, not moving on in life without me.
Despite everything, Dale was a person. He was smart and kind, loving and generous. I chose to see the person, not the disease. He was like no one that I had ever met before and I absolutely adored him.
So when I stumbled across the article last weekend (the one that was mentioned in my past 2 posts), it surfaced pieces of my life that I would rather forget. That article shared how emotional trauma can lead to two things... "memory and an enlarged amygdala, which houses primitive emotions such as fear, grief, envy, and shame."
My memory had become so bad, that I had begun to take Gingko-balboa when I was just in my twenties. Dale shared his concern and thought that perhaps I needed to see a doctor. I was a hot mess. I had to write myself notes and reminders about everything. Dale would become frustrated with me as well when I couldn't remember something that he told me. Sometimes I think it was legit. Sometimes I don't think he ever told me and I truly didn't forget. Nevertheless, on top of everything else, I began to doubt myself. I trusted myself less. I trusted Dale more when it came to things that concerned what I should have remembered or known, the mentally unstable one.
As far as my primitive emotions go.... there was no reason to feel grief at that point. I was too isolated to feel envy and (and too unaware to feel) shame. I was fearful. Very fearful. Never for my own life, but for his. And overall, until about 2008, I thought that I was happy. Things had escualted by that point, but there was still enough good to make me think that I was happy and that Dale and our lives together were worth the stress and effort (I was very well aware of those.) that it took to make our relationship run.
Along side of BPD, bipolar disorder and narcissism can be found. Most of these symptoms describe Dale to a tee. However, I will never truly know. Things were so complicated just before he died that I never met his psychiatrist. I was given her name after his death, but I never reached out. He had only seen her a handful of times and I just... couldn't. Somedays I regret that decision, but most of the time I don't think anything that I may have learned would have made much of a difference. It was already an open wound, I didn't want salt thrown onto it. Perhaps I should have learned more because I have a son with Dale. But I am hoping and praying for the best, but am preparing myself for anything.
So in the beginning, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to step aside and let him have his feelings/moods. It happened sporadically and wasn't so intense. We dated for 3.5 years before moving in and lived together for 1 year before getting married. I was already deeply vested and accustomed to this routine, as it had become, well before it became so pronounced and disturbing. It was like gaining weight. When you see yourself or another everyday, you don't notice a few pounds here and there. It's not until you've put on way too much that you truly notice and it has become a real problem. I had stepped aside so many times that I took myself out of the picture. Dale's illness took front and center stage and everything, everything, was effected by it. Our lives revolved around it.
Dale first attempted suicide when he was in 5th grade. He again attempted two years before meeting me, when a long time relationship ended. Those were the only two times that I was aware of until he cut himself in March of 2011. However, he was suicidal. We had many, many conversations about it. He shared his thoughts and perspectives on it as if he were talking about the weather. And I know he thought about it much, much more than it came up in conversation. It was disturbing. It frightened me. I was determined for us to never get to the point where suicide became a real option (even though deep down I knew it always was for him) and I would do anything to stop that from happening. I don't know when I took that silent vow, but when I did, that is when I began to walk on eggshells. Some people fear their significant other leaving them, I never feared that he would leave me if he was unhappy. I knew that it would hurt deeply, but that I could survive as long it was what was best for the both of us. I feared him leaving, as in dying, not moving on in life without me.
Despite everything, Dale was a person. He was smart and kind, loving and generous. I chose to see the person, not the disease. He was like no one that I had ever met before and I absolutely adored him.
***
My memory had become so bad, that I had begun to take Gingko-balboa when I was just in my twenties. Dale shared his concern and thought that perhaps I needed to see a doctor. I was a hot mess. I had to write myself notes and reminders about everything. Dale would become frustrated with me as well when I couldn't remember something that he told me. Sometimes I think it was legit. Sometimes I don't think he ever told me and I truly didn't forget. Nevertheless, on top of everything else, I began to doubt myself. I trusted myself less. I trusted Dale more when it came to things that concerned what I should have remembered or known, the mentally unstable one.
As far as my primitive emotions go.... there was no reason to feel grief at that point. I was too isolated to feel envy and (and too unaware to feel) shame. I was fearful. Very fearful. Never for my own life, but for his. And overall, until about 2008, I thought that I was happy. Things had escualted by that point, but there was still enough good to make me think that I was happy and that Dale and our lives together were worth the stress and effort (I was very well aware of those.) that it took to make our relationship run.
***
Linda, my therapist believed that Dale was narcissitic. When I told her that I felt like I was constantly walking on egg shells, she referred me to a book, Stop Walking on Eggshells, by Paul T. Mason and Randi Kreger. This book introduced me to borderline personality disorder. The signs and symptoms include... (from http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/borderline-personality-disorder/basics/symptoms/con-20023204)
- An intense fear of abandonment, even going to extreme measures to avoid real or imagined separation or rejection
- A pattern of unstable intense relationships, such as idealizing someone one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel
- Rapid changes in self-identity and self-image that include shifting goals and values, and seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist at all
- Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality, lasting from a few minutes to a few hours
- Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, reckless driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating or drug abuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship
- Suicidal threats or behavior or self-injury, often in response to fear of separation or rejection
- Wide mood swings lasting from a few hours to a few days, which can include intense happiness, irritability, shame or anxiety
- Ongoing feelings of emptiness
- Inappropriate, intense anger, such as frequently losing your temper, being sarcastic or bitter, or having physical fights
Along side of BPD, bipolar disorder and narcissism can be found. Most of these symptoms describe Dale to a tee. However, I will never truly know. Things were so complicated just before he died that I never met his psychiatrist. I was given her name after his death, but I never reached out. He had only seen her a handful of times and I just... couldn't. Somedays I regret that decision, but most of the time I don't think anything that I may have learned would have made much of a difference. It was already an open wound, I didn't want salt thrown onto it. Perhaps I should have learned more because I have a son with Dale. But I am hoping and praying for the best, but am preparing myself for anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment