I've written this in my head 1000's of times. But it never seems right when I go to put it on "paper" so here it goes.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
He's a great guy, has a wonderful sense of humor, is a loving husband, and devoted father.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
He works hard, has a good job, mows the lawn, takes out the trash, feeds the dogs.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
My husband tries to make me laugh as often as he can. He likes to hold my hand when he drives and when we walk down the street.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
Some days, he's fun and light hearted and easy to be around. Most days, I see the man I fell in love with: the big, kind-hearted, laughing, freckled, bald Irishman.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
Other days, the twinkle in his eyes is replaced with a dark cloud. Those days he's as cranky as the Wicked Witch of the East and I want to drop a house on him too. Or pour a bucket of water on him and make it stop.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
He'll have bi-polar tomorrow too. And the day after that. And the next one. He'll live with it for the rest of his life.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
I'll live with it as long as I'm living with him.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
He can't help it. He doesn't want it. He works hard to over come it.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
I'm not sure what else to say today. We'll see what tomorrow brings.
My husband has bi-polar disorder.
But bi-polar doesn't have him.
Or me.
