someone to watch over me

I can see the fatigue.

It’s been over a week since I became visibly agitated. Day after day, I went through bouts of restlessness, little sleep, and other clear signs indicating that I was on the edge of hypomania. And throughout this time, my boyfriend has been by my side, not just merely supporting me by being there, but also doing things like asking me how I feel, checking whether I was taking my medicine on time, or helping me keep a strict daily schedule. Without him, I am sure my condition would have deteriorated to a point where not only would there have been some real highs, it would’ve proven to be a precursor to days, weeks or months of deep depression.

But now that I’ve become more clearheaded,  I see the depression in him. I can see that the days of staying up with me when I couldn’t sleep for days have clearly caught up with him, and now he looks, well, sad. He has his own stressors to deal with, and then he’s had to deal with my problems on top of it. He was telling me yesterday about the ways in which I changed from my usual self over this past week, in terms of affect and attitude. And it made me realize just how much stuff he must have had to shoulder himself while I was “away.” But now I hear his deep sighs and see him have a pensive, distant demeanor. I asked him if he was okay, and though he did give me a yes, I could feel from his energy that he was exhausted from the week that he had dealt with.

I’ve often noticed those articles about caretakers of those with mental illness, and through this week, I learned just how much of a toll it takes on the caretaker—in this case, my boyfriend—-to be constantly there.

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One Comment to “someone to watch over me”

  1. My husband suffers from Bi-Polar disorder and he also had a bad week last week. I have been trying to communicate with him, making sure he takes his meds, asking him if there is anything I can do… When he has a rough week he basically shuts me out and it is painful. It makes me so sad to see him suffering like that and it scares the hell out of me. I’m always afraid that he won’t ever feel better. It also makes me angry, not at him, but at the situation. I just want to grab him and shake him and say “Snap out of it” but I know that’s not how it works.

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