LOL....so, where was I? I have to say that I really hadn't thought about all of this for a while now.

1. .....ok...drug dealer/cocaine/a little too much for me to take...but,

he tells me that he's so happy that I found out...that he couldn't live with it anymore.........& he's coming home......

Wait...did I say that I wanted him to come home???? I don't remember saying that.

DIFFERENT DAY....SIMILAR SCENE>>>>so....now he's NOT coming home...what the????? Geez...I'm on the phone with him & I hear her giggling in the background...& he's in his hotel room. I'm getting nauseaous. I'm getting angry...I'm getting hardcore bitchy...I'm asking question. He says...it's none of your business...& hangs up.

OK...now I'm playing detective...getting to the bottom of it. Luckily....the cell phone is in my name because he screwed up his credit a very very long time ago. AND...voila...he's been using a dial around service that's in my name (good old onesuite.com) that I can trace each and every call he's made from both the hotel and pay phones......

He's in trouble now.

I've never been afraid to attack life head on....even when life becomes an ugly monster. Of course...I'm hurt, devastated...& along with weight watchers...I'm not eating...but damn, I'm looking good (my own revenge). but I digress

ah...the telephone....

Along the way...I've called him & he hadn't realized that I could hear whole conversations because he would think that he was turning off the phone...but instead it would be "on" in his pocket & I'd hear him with all of these other people.......

I called them...I called them all. I called the drug dealers, I called his business associates, I called the whores & the pimps...I talked to them...I asked them questions...I called her...her boyfriend (s)...she had two of them.....I called everyone.

He's totally lost it. He came home once, twice. Came home because I made him. He came home because I was in the hospital and our son was alone...& he complained that he was home. He was angry at me for being in the hospital. Then he'd leave and go back.

When he was there...he'd call. He'd be sweet. Until....I'd catch him...with her...with them...with.....when he was home, he shaved his head. I sent the hair to a lab to have it drug tested (I'd be a great detective)....came back positive for cocaine...but, I knew that it was something else. I knew she wasn't his dealer....I thought....well, you know what I thought.

He called...he called screaming...he called panicked...he called for money...always for money. He called and said that they were trying to kill him...that he had to pay them (who were they). He called & said he didn't have enough to eat or sleep. He was taking everything....he was sending NO MONEY HOME. I had nothing....except...that settlement... He called...he called screaming that I was a voice in his head...that I was screaming at him in his head. Then he called & said that he didn't love me....that he never loved me...he never loved our son...he never remembered having any feelings for his son. I heard him hitting his head against a wall in a hotel room screaming. I found out who she was.

Characters: Kristie...22...beautiful...perfect body...sweet...loving....addicted to crack...whore....drug dealer...3 kids (all in custody of the state)...she's a "wonderful" human being...she makes him feel ALIVE....

Detroit...gotta love this one....Golf Pro by day...drug dealer by night

Miami....drug dealer

Bundy....drug dealer

various pimps...drug dealers & whores

time for another breathe

OK...this is not the man that I married. This is not the man who took a year off to care for my mother because she was dying of cancer...or took 9 months off to help care for his newborn son. This is not the man who put me on a pedestal. This is not the man who worshiped the ground that we walked on. THIS IS NOT MY HUSBAND. KRISTIE...you took my husband...what did you do to him?

1. Talked to her...talked to them...talked endlessly. Searched for him. He's in hiding. Not checked into any hotel. Where is he? He's not answering the cell phone. I can't find him. Is he dead????? I'm calling Kristie...she hands him the phone (told you she was dumb). He can't talk to me...but...he still needs money. I find out that SHE's the one who he's buying the drugs for. I find out it isn't him with the habit...it's her. He wants to protect her, to take care of her. He doesn't want her to prostitute herself...so, he'll buy the drugs for her...he'll deal with her dealers and her pimps....he'll have a gun to his head...he'll use my money...all my money...my settlement is gone...everything is gone....they're gonna foreclose on the house...there's nothing...not even enough to eat....nothing.

I know that he's not right....I mean....he's not thinking right....he's just not my husband...I've got to get him home. I think that he's living on the streets. I've called his clients...he's taken money from them too...sent them bad cars...made bad deals...they want him too...they want him strung up by his toes. I've got to get him back from Orlando....or let him die there.

How did I get him back here? He's listened to me. I've found enough money for a one way ticket home...don't care if the lights are turned off...he's coming home. He can leave if he wants...but, I need to get him help first. I'm not sure that I even want him anymore, but I can't let him live on the streets. I know that something's very wrong. I'm guessing...my first inclination was bipolar disorder (bingo)...but, I wasn't certain. I hadn't known that he had tried to come home before...but, he was taking Kristie with him...to live with us...so that I could take care of her...how sick is that? This just makes me realize how ill he really is.

laughing....truthfully...I think that I believed it. I loved him more now that it was a challenge than I did before. You always want/love what you have to work harder for...& I was working hard.

1. He's home...but...he's acting up. He's trying to commit suicide. He took ALL of the pills in the house. He's ranting. My son calls the police. They won't take him. I get him into emergency services at a local community mental health center...they won't commit him. Damn...what does he have to do...be dead...the 36 valium/ambien/who knows what else combo isn't enough? Things get physical...I'm trying to hold him down as he grabs my car keys to leave (I'm 5'0"/ 103 lbs....he's 6'2" about 250-275....can you picture it). I'm having a seizure or is it a panic attack...yeah that's it (I used to have seizures...until I got pregnant with my son).

Another Day: I have our bedroom bugged. He's calling Kristie...telling her that he'll get more $$$ for her. Telling her that he's going to always take care of her....telling her that she can do anything she wants & he'll take care of it. He's telling her this...from a phone in our bedroom. We're fighting...but I won't let go. I'm calling him a bipolar son of a bitch...& he stops...he stops and asks....he wants to know....it means something to him....don't know what though.

The community health center....need I say more? The therapist...got him to go!!!! YAY!!!! well...not really...the guy's specialty is marriage counseling...why would they put him with this therapist????? It takes..I don't know...maybe 3 months before he can see a psychiatrist. Is that what he is???? He's not sure what's wrong with him....thinks he's interesting though. Maybe bipolar disorder, maybe cyclothymia, maybe narcissistic personality disorder...maybe...maybe...maybe.

GIVE HIM SOMETHING TO HELP HIM WILL YOU??????? I call...pdoc refused to talk to me...doesn't want any outside input...doesn't want to know what's going on at home...thinks I'm a raving lunatic. Go to a therapist myself...I need to learn more...

Why couldn't they have assigned him MY therapist...he's wonderful. He's caring, he's real, he listens, he doesn't say "I don't know, why don't you go home, you don't like to talk anyway." He does research for me, he looks at his charts, he tells me to be careful, he says that I need to get my life in order, that my husband is dangerous, that he may never change, that......he helps me look at all of the options. Then he tells me that I'm the strongest patient that he has. He says that he's amazed at how I've worked to get it together...but one things wrong.

My husband isn't getting ANY better...he still doesn't love me....I still think about KRISTIE..I can't get over it...MY HUSBAND IS STILL SICK & NO ONE'S HELPING HIM.

I couldn't take it...I keep thinking about her...day & night. He won't tell me what the relationship is. He says that he's trying to stay with me...because he knows it's what he should do (not what he wants to do...but should). He still can't remember US.

1. My friend: I've had some wonderful friends. Thank goodness. But, when something like this happens sometimes you lose people who you truly believed were your friends, because they don't believe in what you're doing. I had a "best" friend...we stood by each other...through thick & thin. But....not through this....she couldn't watch me stay...she needed me to leave...& I couldn't. I miss her.

I met a "new" friend. She's been wonderful. She's had her share of problems and obstacles...she understood....she stood by me....she shared her psychiatrist...LOL

I needed to get him to a REAL pdoc....not one of those community health clowns. I did research, I read, I asked questions.....I found one. I read articles that he wrote. He won the psychiatrist of the year award from NAMI (nationally)...he specialized in bipolar disorder...ONLY...&....he practiced nearby..one day a week. AND....there is a YEAR long waiting list to see him.

Only a real friend..would....tell me that she sees him...that she'll give up her appointment for us....that she'll call and talk to the office staff. My friend has her own share of troubles...schizophrenia for 4 generations...& she's got PTSD, multiple personality disorder, DID...well...she's not in good shape...but you'd never know it....he must be a miracle doctor.

She's called the staff to alert them. I call the doctor's secretary. I start to tell the story that I'm writing today...I'm crying...no, I'm sobbing...I'm asking for help. She says that she can't give me my friend's appointment....but, she takes my number & tells me to stay by the phone. She calls back...in a half hour (boy that was quick). She tells me...I have to take an oath & swear that I'll never tell anyone (so, you never heard this from me right....)...

She asks if we can come in tomorrow. She tells me that she could hear the pain in my voice, so she rearranged the doctor's schedule. She makes me promise not to tell him (& I never have).

WE HAVE AN APPOINTMENT...well...he has an appointment & I'm going to go sit in the waiting room...because I know how to get to the office (it's about a half hour away & I used to live nearby).

I can't wait....we can't wait...I know that he's expensive...we can't afford it...but...I've made a commitment to help him. The visit is going to cost $340 an hour....a whole weeks pay for me from my worker's compensation...but I DON'T CARE.

The next day: We go to the office...we fill out the paperwork...we answer a zillion questions on paper....the wonderful woman in the office takes me aside and says that my friend told her that we can't afford it. She reduces the rate by $100...& tells me that we can work out the rest of the visits...not to worry....they'll find a way. She is kind, caring and understanding. I already love this place.

The doctor comes out into the waiting room. He looks like Sigmund Freud. He's tall and slender with a bow tie and little round glasses. He speaks very carefully...annunciating each word. He's almost a caricature.

My husband follows him in to the office. I sit in the waiting room....wait...the doctor turns around. He says I have to come in for the session...for all of the sessions...that he won't get well without the support of his family.....that I am an important part of his getting well. I LOVE THIS MAN.

He says..."there can be no secrets"....we've been living secrets. We can't talk in front of him. It's unacceptable...we must. And so the healing begins. I cry & tell the story. My husband says that I don't understand. The doctor makes a definitive diagnosis of bipolar disorder & begins treatment. There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

On the way out of this first session....after my husband has left the waiting area, the doctor puts his arm around me and says "don't worry, I get you your husband back." AND HE HAS.

Many different drug combinations...many open wounds...no therapy....just talking...asking questions & answering them while sitting in bed at night. If you can't talk to your spouse who can you talk to? The doctor was right.

There are good times, bad times. He still cycles. He still gets suicidal. He's riddled with mania, depression, mixed episodes mostly...lots of crying jags...

but...I've got my husband back. He loves me...I love him. We spend time together & little by little he's healing. It's an ongoing process. The doctor is still wonderful. We still have no money (my husband is unable to work...has too many psychotic episodes, etc.)...so the doctor hoards all of his samples for him...says "trick or treat" and has me open my handbag after each session. The secretary has acted as his advocate and gotten him free meds from most of the drug companies (Free: Abilify, lamictal, eskalith, topomax & zantac...we only pay for levoxyl and his Ambien).

He loves me...he doesn't think about her anymore...he can't remember her. He only knows that he was with "bad" people. He never had sex with her (although at one point he said that he had just to shut me up....). He needed to take care of someone....he was manic....he was full blown manic...

I've realized that it had NOTHING to do with ME. It had nothing to do with any reality. It was the disorder. I don't even think about it much anymore....I've forgiven.

I still have physical ailments. I have limp...which is a far cry from walking in braces with those damned forearm crutches or in a wheelchair....I've worked hard at that too. I go to physical therapy 3 times a week...I get into the pool 3 times a week (sometimes I teach the class...sometimes I'm a student)....I use splints for 8 hours a day to try to straighten my leg...and another that bends it (I'm limited in both directions) & I have to have 2-3 surgeries a year to keep me walking.

But...the other night...I went out with a friend to a DISCO show at the local civic center (Thelma Houston, the Village People, KC & the Sunshine Band, the Trammps & more....ok...Frank....no poking fun...she had an extra ticket & she needed a ride, or she couldn't go)....it was called "get up and dance"...& guess what I did????? YUP....I danced...& danced....& danced....& I'm gonna keep on dancing.

My husband promised me that when he loses a little more weight...that he's gonna take ballroom dance lessons...so that we can dance together (we never have).....

the story continues....my life is a circle...it never ends...but it sure is an adventure