Stories from the Store
Labels: bicultural strain, convos with mom, musings
Labels: bicultural strain, convos with mom, musings
Labels: musings
Labels: musings, ramblings, sweet tooth
Labels: ramblings
Labels: bicultural strain, frustrations
Labels: food for thought, personal struggles, ramblings
Even before my departure from NYC, BP began to descend into a sea of confusion. AK moved out of the apartment to live with friends and with him, the weed was gone, too. BP threw himself back into his work, spending long hours in the office working on his particular projects. But when work got out, he became restless. Nights he would wander, go to strip clubs, visit call girls, and began to drink excessively. He was spending exorbitant amounts of money on his exploits, along with making trips to Atlantic City, gambling his money, snorting coke in the bathroom to keep up. He would then spiral down, spending hours in bed, depressed and zoning out in front of the television for days on end. His mood and behavior became erratic. Eventually he began to miss work, with his projects declining, his project manager called him in for an evaluation.
“’Either you get help or you get out,’ she told me. I was asked to go in for a psychiatric evaluation. Sugar, I got diagnosed with bipolar.”
I remember my heart sank as I sat on the hill while my brain was abuzz, going through what I know about bipolar, the manic behaviors, and the signs to make a diagnosis. It was so apparent, why had I not noticed it before? As BP shared his therapy and medication schedule with now daily meetings at AA to work with his addictions to coke, weed, and alcohol (did not want to go through the less strict Narcotics Anonymous), I was overwhelmed with guilt. How come I didn’t notice it before?
I left the hill at Dolores with my soul lost among the fog. I was wrought with guilt that in spite of my limited training, I should have seen the signs, connected the behaviors. I wished that I were more forceful in helping him, persistent in my interventions. Perhaps I was so caught up with my own recovery, that I ignored his. All these questions filled my brain.
******
For the next couple of days I carried the conversation I had on the hill with me. I went over little moments from our relationship, both bad and good, trying to make a connection. I was grateful for the help that he provided me through my own personal struggles, but maybe I could have given him more. But then again, I did, so it wasn’t on me that I tried. The regret and the anger both were swarming through my mind.
All these thoughts swirled in my brain before finally I had to call BP. I needed to ask him questions, to clarify my role in the relationship, and more importantly, to see where I went wrong.
“BP, I am so sorry. I can’t believe that I didn’t see it…the signs,” I cried to him on the phone.
“No, Sugar, please don’t think that it’s your fault, it’s mine for not listening to you. I know you tried to help, to get close, but please don’t blame yourself. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. I’m on my way to being fine, you’ll see. You’re inspired me with your recovery and you’ve moved on. I’m glad. It’s kinda funny, in a way, your caring and your love saved my life.”
“No, BP, you saved mine.”
Labels: personal struggles