Sustaining Superman

Things haven't been particularly fantastic, but suddenly they were desperately awful.

 His facial expressions or really the lack of them. The way he walks, shoulders rolled forward, feet dragging. Distracted, distant, sinking. Unable to carry a conversation. Days go by with few words. The words that do come are hopeless, despondent.  Everything brings frustration and anger. Sitting on the couch blankly watching six movies at once.

He's in trouble and I know it.

A conversation with his Psychiatrist. An urgent med change needed, now. Practicing psychiatry over the phone, in the middle of a pandemic frustrating for all off us. Nothing changes. Watchful waiting.

We are in mental illness HELL.

Superman's middle of the night, tear filled and frustration filled pleas, brutal. The intensity of his hopelessness, desperation is frightening for both of us. Will he withstand the torments of the storm, this time?? I honestly wasn't sure.

I laid there beside him for nights, pleading silently for respite from the storm, begging for heavenly guidance in what to say, One night the words eventually came, a question, not my words, but from my heavenly father. From that question Superman expressed the true depth of his suffering. His reality sobering. For a moment I had a glimpse of the tremendous strength it takes for my sweetheart to battle this cruel illness every single day of is life. It was a sorrow filled and sacred moment for me.

For nights the storm raged on. For nights I prayed just for tomorrow.

I don't know if we've just found the eye of this storm or if its abating. Its been a day or so of "relative" stillness.

I'm guessing the psychiatrist's decision on the med change was the next right thing. For know we can only hope.

I never imagined we'd be here and most likely here for the rest of our lives. Severe, debilitating mental illness robbing my sweetheart of so much. Accepting that healing is not ours to decide. Some days dealing with the stigma of our illness harder (at least for me) than dealing with the illness its self.

Tears have flowed often these last few days. The reality of what we go through hit like a ton of bricks....

How much sicker does my Superman have to become, before I get to stop explaining why he deserves the same compassion, prayers and understanding and reaching out for his suffering as others get without explanation?? Even now I type this through tears. It is something I will never understand, but face often. Mental illness stigma breaks my heart.


I feel this immense need to continually sustain and protect my Superman. It will always be a challenge to be that gatekeeper. Who will help and who will harm?? it seems to always surprise me.

Now to try and catch up on some much needed sleep.   Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz....