I watched my husband sleeping today. Not in some creepy crawly stalker way but in a way that caused me to be humbly thankful and deeply introspective.
“Where would I be without him?,” I wondered. “Who would I be? How would I be?”
I’ve never been the type of person who believes someone else can make or break your life. We are all accountable for our decisions and the lives we make for ourselves.
We hold the key to our own happiness.
But there are those very few, very special people who can help us see clearer, think harder and love stronger.
We may only be lucky enough to meet one or two of these people in our lives. There are those who will never meet a person like this. For someone with Bipolar that can mean never being allowed to soak up the light they bring to our otherwise dark existence. It can sometimes mean the difference between holding on or giving up.
Put quite simply, my husband is my light. He is my anchor when my head is soaring too high above the clouds and he is my life raft when I find myself sinking into the dark abyss those with Bipolar know all too well.
Have you ever had someone look at you and you know that they can see all of your demons, all your faults and all of those dark things that hide in your head? How do those people look at you?
Most stare with contempt or malice, sitting high upon their glass thrones. In our weakest moments, these stares can leave us cowering, wounded and ashamed. I’ve been given my fair share of these fatal glances by some who were so close to me.
But my husband has left scars on all my demons, he knows all my faults and he shines a light in all those dark places. He has never looked at me with malice or contempt. He’s never thrown my illness in my face. When he looks at me, and I mean down to my soul and in the throws Bipolar, I don’t think he sees a crazy person.
I believe he sees his wife battling, fighting and raging against something that’s so difficult to wound. He watches me refuse to allow my illness to take my character, my mind and my life. He can’t fight these battles for me, God knows he’s tried. But he’s always been there to break my fall.
He is my champion, my defender and my protector. He has all the missing pieces I lack. I am spontaneous, emotional, whimsy, quick to act and volatile. He is structured, logical, practical, and steadfast.
He’ll be so embarrassed that I wrote this but the only place I feel truly safe from harm is when his arms engulf me and my head rests on his heart. He is my home.
So where would I be without him? Dead, or just alone in the darkness? Sometimes I’m not sure which is worse.
Who would I be without him? I would be outrageous and untethered to the world. My emotions would run wild, and I’d follow right after them. I would be more spontaneous and do more things but those things would probably cost me my soul.
And finally … How would I be without him?
That’s the most simplistic answer of all. I would be alone. And alone is a terrible place for someone who fights Bipolar every day.
Because we cannot fight it alone …