Sunday Scribblings - "With Baggage"

This weeks topic is ironic and also scary for me because I have been dealing with my husbands baggage (whom I am now separated from) for over the last three years of my life. Initially, I was unaware of just how much baggage he carried and how crazy the long term affects of it would play in my life.

I’m sure like most people you would question whether the signs were there before I said “I do”. And if I look back now I can see subtle signs indirectly. But nothing so big that you would think it could escalate.

Yes, he was a little insecure, and yes his relationship with his family wasn’t the best. But he treated me well, so I didn’t think much of it. We connected almost immediately because we were able to communicate with one another so well. We spent hours every single night on the phone talking from across the ocean. When time came for us to meet each other for the first time it wasn’t awkward at all, in fact it only solidified that we were great together. For the most part there were no real issues we came across and if we fought they were little squabbles that didn’t last very long.

But the moment everything change and things came out that would be horrific is when he moved to the U.S. for us to begin our life together as husband and wife. He started to change. When things did not go as he though they would in terms of finding a job, or life in general he became annoyed with many things. He would complain about how chaotic the United States were, he would become depressed and sleep, he began to isolate himself. So not even a year into our marriage we began therapy.

It was here he was initially diagnosed as being depressed and so he went on medications. But nothing changed. It was here I also learned about all of the family abuse and dysfunction he grew up in. How he being the middle child always got the short end of it and was labeled the “black sheep.

He had begun to become very agitated, stressed out, angry and I was at a point where I was lost and ready to walk because no matter what I attempted to do, I was the one that was being the scapegoat for his issues. Then one night as we were watching Oprah, she had stars on talking about their bipolar disorders. It was the moment he turned to me and said “that’s how I feel,” that my jaw nearly hit the floor as I thought “what now.” The following day he spoke with his psychiatrist and they started treating him. It wasn’t much later than this that we found out his sister had been going to therapy for the last few years and was being treated as a bipolar.

This all went on for another year and escalated into him becoming completely unmanageable to live with. After our daughter was born a whole new set of issues were unfolded. His meds never really seemed to help. Then in November of 2005 he was in near fatal car accident and broke his femur bone. A few months later he had blood on his brain and had to have surgery to remove it. This all sent him over the edge and he seemed to deteriorate even more. He became the most bitter I ever saw him or any person for that matter.

I finally knew that I could not spend the rest of my life in such chaos, nor could I subject my daughter or her spirit to this illness. It was time to get out.

Since he moved out we have been able to maintain a good relationship. I think the separation is doing him good. He has recently had some neurological testing to see what further steps can be taken to help him regain his life again. So in the end he is working on his baggage. All of it will never go away for good, but maybe he will learn how to cope with it and move forward in his life. Though it will not be with me.

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