Murder of a Marriage

Murder of a marriage. Dramatic? Maybe, but dead on.  Pun intended. My husband wasn’t just bipolar, he had been diagnosed (much too late) with multiple mental illnesses including borderline personality disorder. Of course, he laughed at the diagnostic report the psychiatrist sent and immediately deleted and destroyed all traces of it.  It still rang true  even if he didn’t agree.  I didn’t need a report or official diagnosis to know many things were very wrong with him.  He was born with them.  It’s the way he always was and always will be.  Even medication couldn’t change it. It would lessen the severity but let’s be real, on a 1-10 scale if his episodes were a 10 and medication brought it down to an 8, that was still not comforting in any way ” but I’m taking medication. It’s making it so much better.”  It didn’t. It wasn’t enough, and he was only half-assed taking them. He would either not take them at all or just take half the dosage, but in either case,  it was too late.  That last year he escalated so much he scared our girls. He truly was just out of control. Our daughter  Allison would park her car on the street and sit there waiting  for me to get home before going into the house.  She would call me and ask how long until I would be home. She was afraid of him. She wouldn’t go into the house and be alone with him. That just devastates me even now as I write this.  I never wanted the girls to be afraid of their dad.  That is a direct consequence of his behavior.  One evening, I could hear Allison crying hard in her room.  When I finally convinced her to tell me what was wrong, she told me she was afraid to go to college in a few months and leave me alone with him.  My heart just broke.  She was afraid of him and of him hurting me.  My beautiful baby.I burdened her. I thought all these years I was doing the right thing in not splitting up our family and staying until at least she was eighteen. As it turns out, the damage was so much worse staying than it ever would have been leaving.  I feel incredibly guilty.  I never meant to hurt my girls, but I did just that.  We are all terribly scarred and damaged forever.  What’s done is done.  I will never hurt them again by being mistreated by a man.  It’s a huge responsibility because I just want to love and be loved.  Never again like that though.  Everything we do as a parent affects our children. I do know I did the best I possibly could….but I will always feel guilty. Him? How does he feel? He shot our marriage full of holes…..

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