I didn’t ask to become ill, I never wanted this to happen, I had no control over what happened to me yet that does not stop me questioning why me?
Why did I lose control over my mind, friends and my career?
This week is national carers week and the theme this year is prepared to care. I don’t suppose my husband was prepared to care for me or prepared for bipolar to steal his wife.
I heard the door knock this morning and as I felt the guilt begin to eat away at my skin, I reminded myself this was a positive thing to do.
When my CPN (community psychiatric nurse) suggested my husband needed support I brushed it off for months, we were fine, he was fine yet he wasn’t. He was struggling with the responsibilities of not only caring for 6 children, a home, the finances but a crazy wife.
There are just those things in life that I will never understand why they happened the way they did or why they happened at all. I was given no warning (which in hindsight I was but refused to accept and acknowledge that something just wasn’t quite right.
I struggled on and as the stumbling became more and more difficult my word came crashing down around me. Those close to me panicked but pretended we were all coping. While they rallied around to help me, I drifted further and further away.
We had 3 young children from my previous marriage, a two year old and a one year old and I was 4 months pregnant when I finally broke.
It would take over 3 years to get me anywhere near back on track after finally being diagnosed with bipolar.
We have a rollercoaster ride to tackle each day.
My husband has been the back bone, which at times has made me hate and resent him. As I became weaker he becomes stronger.
Without him the children would have suffered, there is no question, but that does not stop the guilt I feel.
I agreed to get professional support for my husband a few weeks ago when my CPN had visited me at home, the husband was there too and we talked about the possibility of receiving more outside help.
“It is there to help you”
“This is a good thing Emma”
“It would really help you”
They have offered us every reason why we should take up this offer of support and although I have finally accepted we need it that does not mean that it makes it any easier. We need family support because of me.
The support worker dedicated to my husband called this morning to meet him; he now has a flashy carer’s card and is my registered carer.
Carers Week 2013 takes place from Monday 10 to Sunday 16 June so it’s something that’s rather close to my own heart at this moment in time. I never expected to ever have to have a carer, but does anybody?
Every day at least 6,000 people start caring. Becoming a carer can impact significantly on a person’s life – it takes time, energy, can leave you isolated and can be costly.
- There are over 6.5 million carers in the UK.
- Every day 6,000 people take on new caring responsibilities.
- Every year two million people take on new caring responsibilities.
- Most carers (5.7 million) are aged over 18 and the peak age for caring is 50 to 59.
- 1.5 million carers are aged over the age of 60.
- There are 175,000 young people under the age of 18 who provide care, 13,000 of these provide care for 50 hours or more per week.
- One in eight workers in the UK combine work with caring responsibilities for a disabled, ill or frail relative or friend.
Nobody needs to tell me how difficult it is to care for someone with a mental health issue, I see that every time I look into my husbands tired looking eyes.
He feels my pain yet struggles as there is nothing he can do to stop me from hurting.
He has to stand by and watch the women he loves self-harm and continue to sabotage herself, yet has learned that no amount of ignoring me or shouting at me will help.
He misses being the bread winner and he misses his own career yet he knows returning to work would have devastating affects upon our family. His main concern is getting me as much help as possible, to allow me to function more confidently, but its a long and winding road, I am known to stop taking my medications without warning (part of my illness).
I don’t make things easy for him, he is married to 3 people, there is the women he knows and misses and then there is the down and low me and then the manic me. At least he can never say he is bored.
We are stuck in a cycle of mental illness and we have to allow it run its course, not knowing what each new day will bring.
His eyes well with tears when I tell him to leave me, or that I will go as the children are better off without me. His heart brakes when I secretly self-harm behind a closed door.
He continues to pick up the pieces I have broken as I march through on self destruct mode and he tries his best to fit them back together.
I look in the mirror and some days U despise what I have become, I don’t see me, I see the illness. Its robbed us all of so much.
Yet when I look into my children’s eyes or hear their laughter it gives me the strength to continue fighting and to ensure they can look back and remember a happy and loving childhood.
As much as our marriage may seem a strange one to some, my husband is not only my lover and best friend but he is my full time carer too, who loves me and refuses to give up on me, even when I do.
Take a few minutes to think of the 6.5 million unpaid carers out there who like Matt hold everything together.
