My Rock

Who is my rock? If you've been following my posts, I think you would know the answer to that. 

One word...Husband.

Yup, during this past year has been a tumultuous one—for everyone in my family. Everything in my life this past year, not just my bipolar disorder, but my father's illness, our finances and of course, my brother's nutty behavior. If I were single, I honestly don't know how I would have handled it. Seriously. I'm a weak soul when it comes to situations like the above. I truly am. So having my husband there meant the world to me. Even friends here and there, but as I've also mentioned in prior posts, I am very selective with who I discuss these private issues with. I try to keep it as minimal as possible; I keep it simple.

There are many issues that I do trust with my friends, but one of them is definitely not my bipolar disorder or finances. I've learned that people tend to judge you for these "problems" and hold it against you—especially financial hardship—so I keep it on the down-low. 

When people asked me how my father was doing, or what happened with my brother, I don't go in depth other than the basic information. Even though I know they're only inquiring because they care, I still share with them as little as possible.

My husband is different. I realize that these situations involve us as a family, however, but he has stood by me through everything. He has taken over everything within our household so I would have limited, if not any, problems clouding my mind or issues that could affect my getting better from my bipolar disorder. He knows under these extenuating circumstances that my reaction was typically accentuated beyond the normal boundaries that most people react.


He has seen me through everything, including my tantrums that were clearly out of my control, but also my brother, my father's illness and our financial hardships that have collided with my bipolar disorder; even though he works two jobs, everyday he would walk through the door, and even though he would be physically exhausted, he still held his head up high and he was proud, proud of everything he had accomplished in life. That takes courage. Throughout all of this, like you could imagine, he was mentally exhausted as well.

My husband means the world to me, that much is certain, and I truly hope that while others are suffering and struggling with bipolar disorder and depression, they too would be lucky enough to have the same support system that I have been so blessed with. Nothing is more important than having someone that loves you and never judges you and help you.

So as I sit here drinking my cappuccino and writing this post, I am eager to head home tomorrow and be with my "rock" once again.


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