Saturday, September 14, 2019

Walk gently, You never know.





A Tuesday in the middle of April. That day started like any other. Nothing about the morning, afternoon or evening stood out. Dinner. Dishes. Laundry. Mundane tasks. Relief Society stuff.

Grant had left hours early for a church meeting in Nanaimo. I laid on the couch surfing Netflix and Pinterest simultaneously.

Grant's text lit up my phone: I've asked President for a blessing. I'll text you when I"m on my way. Me: I'm so glad you asked. <3 p="">
15 minutes later: I love you. I'm on my way.  Me: Love you too, drive safe.

Back surfing Pinterest. Gardening ideas....

Maybe ten minutes had  past. It's Grant again, this time he's calling....heLLO I say almost annoyed.


Rrrobbbin.
 He's sobbing. My heart sinks, my mind racing.
What's wrong, where are you????
Sobbing, trying to catch his breath.
Did something happen? Have you been in an accident??
Deeper sobbing.
GRANT what's going on? I beg nearly yelling.
I...sob....just....sob....can't....sob.... do it any more.
Where. are. you??
Sobbing. I can't take all this pain anymore.

{Oh shit we're in CRISIS}
I run down stairs, mouth to Dallyn "Dad's in trouble"
He throws me his phone. I'm ready to call 911.
I'm begging my sweetheart to tell me where he is.
Dallyn is ready to jump in his car.

Finally through his sobs he says he's by the Gnome.

{Shit too far up the highway for Dallyn to easily get to him}

Grant's heartache is tumbling out like a tsunami.{ Please just stay on the phone with me. What should I do?} I speak heaven sent words, trying to sound calm. He kind of stops sobbing. Ok, start driving, but you have to keep telling me where you are....

He drives for maybe 5 minutes, the wailing sobs start again.
I keep him talking, mostly sobbing, but I know he's alive.

My phone talking to him.
Dallyn's phone 91....
Me one finger typing, emailing our counselor back and forth.

The sobbing, talking, typing, begging, praying went on for an hour and 8 minutes.

Horne Lake Caves....Mile marker 75.... Cook Creek.....Buckley Bay Ferry.....Exit 117.....Parkway....

Each kilometer took an eternity. Please Heavenly Father, keep him safe.

Finally the headlights turn the corner and the van is in front of the house.

He comes in the door, I bear hug him. I hide my relieved sobs.

We crawl in bed both exhausted. Grant talks and cries non stop for the next two hours. Finally I feel his body relax and his breathing slow. Finally sleep has rescued him. I lay and for the first time realize my body is shaking uncontrollably.

How can we do this...again??? 
Sleep rescues me around 2 am.

Morning comes with exhausted frustration.

Psychiatrist is on vacation.

He was at a church meeting, for heaven sakes?!?! Got a blessing.
Come on, we've like mostly kept the commandments this week!!!!
What have I missed, he's bipolar and has anxiety, but nothing had been overly obvious...Seriously.

I literally sat in the chair for hours. Names fluttered through my head. But I had the courage to call no one. When our counselor called I didn't pick up.

Finally I sent an email to a very few that evening and picked up the phone when our counselor called. "It was so scary!!!, I sobbed. For the first time I let myself cry.

The next morning came with Relief Society responsibilities, I hadn't said anything to my presidency. Most of me want to pretend April 16th hadn't ever happened.

Private hell.

Grant and I finally saw the psychiatrist 6 days later. He was sympathetic and brutally honest. Borderline personality disorder, its the first time we had heard it associated with Grant. Recovery might never be possible for Grant. We left feeling understood and stunned.

The last five months, brutal. Letting go of the reality of recovery, pure grief. Accepting the difficult days that are BP & GAD & BPD, not sure that will ever happen.

One would think April 16th was enough. That people would rally around us. That people would tread gently. Sadly no. The last six months have been life's hardest. The times I have felt the darkest and been treated the worst.... only a very few have tried to understand.

Walk gently we don't ever truly know the trials each of us are asked to go through, especially those he has asked to serve in leadership.




1 comment:

  1. I dont pray much anymore but my thoughts are sure with you. Loving someone with BPD is not for the faint of heart, not to mention how hard it is for the person who has it. Love you both♡

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