Gate keeper.

We sat in the psychiatrist office this week. Doing so takes a lot of courage for both of us. We come away feeling exhausted, but heard. It's a place where the gravity and complexity of Grant's mental illness is acknowledged and fully validated.

 Things are improving, sort of. An additional med has provided some tentative relief these last six weeks. . We are holding our breathe, this med has failed before, in 2013 and 2016 but we are hoping that in combination, it may hold him. For how long? It's completely unknown. 

Sitting back and realizing what we have endured the last six months brings bewildered, heart broken tears.

When you think you are going to lose your spouse to his illness... When you watch that spouse's illness destroy him into someone you hardly recognize... When you see this illness torturing him day after day and you are powerless to stop his suffering...you will do anything to save him.

Stress (even minor), being in public, well intentioned but ignorant people,  unsolicited advice, unexpected visitors, paperwork, nonsocial phone calls, criticism, perceived judgement of any kind, too many things to do in a day, unmet expectations...on and on.  These are things that have triggered him, sometimes leading to life threatening events.

I am now the gate keeper and not really by choice. But I will do anything to keep him safe and here. Our home is our sanctuary. Grant's safest place. A place where he can take his mask off and it's ok to be ill.


We have had some difficult things happen, where our boundaries have been bulldozed. Mostly unintentional. Simply not understanding, I guess.

What you don't see is the aftermath. The recovery time. The prayer that he won't slide.

When peaceful days are such a prized procession, you will do anything to keep them.

We've lost many friends, been the subjects of the latest gossip, when people don't understand they judge us.  Say we are too easily offend and we just need to let it go and that nobody can understand mental illness, so its unfair to expect them too. We've heard it all.

You don't need to understand us. You only need to understand our need for compassion is the same as others.

Grant didn't ask for his illness. I never asked to be his gate keeper. We are both exhausted, our hearts ache, but we promised to walk this road together and that we will do.