I have put off posting this post for a while now because I don’t know what to say. I still don’t know, but I am hoping that as I type the words will fall into place.
On Sunday, September 30, 2012, my entire world turned upside down. Over the last few weeks I had finally gotten to the point with my husband’s illness that I could handle. I was happy, I was hopeful, I was ready for anything… or so I thought.
The week leading up to Sunday was a little bit more difficult than usual. He decided to fall into an old habit of using cough medicine to get high. I thought that was in issue that needed to be brought up to the psychiatrist. So I did. Along with this confession came me breaking down for the first time in front of the doctors. I was worried for him. I want him to get better so badly. After we spoke about it, the doctors brought me in separately. We discussed that they noticed that he is showing signs that he doesn’t want to get better. They told me that he is very sick and there comes a point where I have to decide what is too much. They warned me of the many tough decisions that were coming my way.
I was still so hopeful that he would pull through this and he would be back on the road for recovery.
Saturday came another trial. He decided to get a bottle of wine. I pointed out to him that he cannot drink because of the medication he is taking. It makes the medicine not work. He still decided to. He told me that he would only drink once a week so he can have a level of normalcy. Despite my protest, he drank the bottle.
Then Sunday happened. He decided that Sunday is actually the beginning of a new week so he would get 3 beers and drink while I was at work. I told him that this was starting to look like an old pattern. I went into work to finish sewing costumes for a show I was working on. While I was there he came to my work. He was not being very nice and started getting belligerent. I decided to call his parents. As I was talking to his mother, he became more and more upset and loud. I ended up having to lock myself in an office to talk to her. Meanwhile he is pounding on the door. He isn’t saying anything violent, he just wanted in. I ended the phone call and opened the door. He said I was ruining his family, I was a monster and he wanted a divorce. He then slapped my face twice. I was stunned. He felt no remorse.
He left the building and I locked it down. I called his mom and told her. I called my mom and she started on her way to me. When she and my sister got to me he was nowhere to be found. We went to the apartment (which is less than a half a mile away). There was no sign of him when I got there. I called the psychiatrist. I was told to immediately call the police. They found him walking back from the liquor store with a bottle of vodka and took him into custody.
I. was. a. basketcase.
Those tough decisions the psychiatrist spoke about have arrived, full force. Nothing about these decisions are easy. Everything is complicated by his illness. I don’t want to leave him, I love him. I also know that I can’t enable this behavior. He has nowhere to go. I can’t afford private facilities for him. I can’t afford to take care of him, because I will lose my job if something like this happens again.
I feel like I am trapped between my brain and my heart. The logical side of me knows that he cannot get better while with me. I am not trained to take care of him. Also, if he doesn’t want to get better then he won’t. This is no longer just schizophrenia, it is addiction. On the other hand, how can I let someone I love be homeless? How can I turn my back on him? How can I live with the guilt? How can I move on in my life, while this person I care so deeply about needs help?
It has been 19 days that I have been away from him, and I still don’t know what to do. I can’t go back. I have to make decisions and fast. I am trying to stay optimistic but no matter which choice I make, someone will get hurt. I am past the point of no return and I don’t know which way to turn.