Foolish Girl

The foolish girl believed that they were family. She felt comfortable enough to consider the woman her mother. What a childish notion.

She turned her back and when things became difficult the woman turned on her. The words were no longer soft and caring, rather they had sharp edges that cut at the girl’s bruised heart. Nobody was who they appeared to be; they never were at all.

Wait until his illness flairs up and they see what I’ve been dealing with for the past twenty years. Will they call me? Now that they’ve dismissed me, do I counter by walking away from helping them? Do I turn on them as they’ve turned on me?

Or, sit at home and feel the pain?


Another Day – Hiding

The heat is oppressive and so I’ve chosen to hide today. 

I am only leaving the house to walk my dogs. The walks are short as the “real feel” tops almost 100 degrees and the humidity makes it difficult to breathe.

I am a bit less lonely today, not to say that it is much of an improvement. 

The husband continues to call and I dodge about a third of his calls. He’s not pleased that I refuse to see him today but I need to stand by my words. 

It’s important that I set some boundaries. Every other day is more than enough, in fact, it is MORE than I should be seeing him. He is not getting well and I am not crawling out of this endless pit of depression. 

We need to work on our own problems on our own before we can fix what is left of our relationship. 

Speaking into an empty well. 

Screaming into the wind.

Wishing that my words could be heard.

The world is deaf!


All of the words, the work and the stress involved in remaining in this marriage are bullshit. He is never going to get well and I am never going to have the guts to end the insanity.

I’ve adopted two dogs, they are my CPR. They have breathed life back into this empty soul. 

My twin hounds are going to save me from this enormous anchor called my marriage.
Otherwise, I’ve got no more words to share with the abyss of this blog.


My Confession: the Paranoia

My Confession, the Paranoia
Schizoaffective disorder is accompanied by the gift the never ends: paranoia. It is with him at all times, sometimes just a small buzzing and other times a loud siren. Today the siren is low but very present. 
At lunch he proclaimed; “if anything happens to me, you have to sue the hospital, my doctor and my dentist“. When I asked the obvious question: “what am I suing for?” – he was frustrated and retorted “you know“.  
I do not know.

My Confession: No Sleep

My Confession: No Sleep

It is nearly 8:00am and I have not slept. My mind refuses to allow any rest. 

The truth about being married to a man who will never be “whole” is that my burden is often overwhelming. While there have been months where I was able to relax – those days are in the past. 

A person with schitzoaffective disorder is sadly dependent. Luckily, my dear spouse found a woman bred to be a care-taker. 

Thank you Dad, I love you always, despite this cursed gift.

Illusions:  Inside and Out

Outwardly, he may appear to be in control, social and helpful. All the while the delusions rage inside of his mind. 

Outwardly, he may speak in impossibilities: conspiracies and secret tests done against his will. All the while the delusions have bloomed into madness.

There are days and nights where we laugh and talk for hours. He can be kind, understanding and the man I imagine to be a permanent gift.  I keep those memories in my mind’s vault for when the tides turn against me.

There are days and nights where he accuses me of ridiculous crimes of betrayal. His words are shards of glass that embed beneath my skin. I do my best to remember that it is his “illness” alas, his words are kept in another vault in my mind.

At 5:00pm

At 5:00pm he tumbles out of the bedroom. He has been awake on and off today, albeit mostly off

He chose to double one of his medicines last night because he had not drank alcohol in three days. There is a correlation somewhere but I don’t even begin to inquire.

My day and mood has been, best described as “manic anxiety“. Hours on the Internet, shopping, straightening the clean house…

Despite my prescribed Valium, I still have not slept since the night before last. This cannot continue tonight, my body is cold and shaking, weak from lack of rest yet fueled by the compulsion to “fix and finish everything“. 

I am such a good codependent! 

It’s a trait that others adore and I despise. 

Being the spouse of a man with a severe mental illness is never easy. I am forever waiting, anticipating and doing my best to enjoy what is tossed my way.

My Confession: the beginning 

My confession: the beginning 

I am married to a man with schitzoaffective disorder. 

For those of you who are unaware of this chronic mental illness, as taken from WebMD:

Schitzoaffective Disorder:

A mental health condition including schizophrenia and mood disorder symptoms.


• More than 200,000 US cases per year

• Can’t be cured, but treatment may help

• Requires a medical diagnosis

• Lab tests or imaging not required

• Chronic: can last for years or be lifelong

What is not listed:

Paranoia, delusions, tendency towards addiction, often medication resistant, self absorbed, unaware of bizarre behavior, low functioning and very dependent.

Examples of the disease, common:

• Believing electronics (television or radio) are sending messages specifically to that person

• Conspiracy theories all centered around the person

• Trust issues

• Erratic behavior 

• Fixations on a multitude of possible different ideas – all not real or reasonable

Re: My confession

In choosing to remain with my husband, who has been in FULL blown paranoia and delusional mide for the past year, I am sick.

We have been together for nearly twenty years and married for more than fifteen. There are years that are painless and livable; there are years that break you. 

As he has been so very ill for a year, I am sick and broken. 

My days are dictated by whoever wakes and his mood. I’ve allowed myself to lose my person in an effort to survive his illness. 

Rock and a Hard Place:

Love, obligation, caring, self-esteem issues and fear for him all have kept me hostage. I do love him, there are also days when I cannot endure another moment with him.

Today he emerges from the bedroom just before 1:00pm. The entire house is immediately engulfed in his “mood”; on edge and cold.  

As always, he calls his mother before uttering more than a word or two in my direction. 

My heart hurts because he can be so sweet, funny and living; it’s been a while. Each day I hope and pray that his illness will ebb, leaving room for us to bond again. It’s my daily secret wish: “please let his illness slow, please bring my husband back to me“.

I know that there are people who would have fled this situation.  Some of these people are very much in my life and wonder why I stay on this endless, impossible roller-coaster. I’ve no answer for those who question my sanity almost as much as his. 

Perhaps it is fear

• My fear of what would happen to him

•My fear of being alone

• Fear of abandonment 

• Fear of disappointing him – or myself – or anyone

Eventually he relaxes as we watch mindless television. I rattle off things that I want to get done on this day; I say the words more to motivate myself than for his reaction. Much of what is done in our world is achieved by me, there are days when I begrudgly enjoy the control.  There are other days when I resent all of the responsibility. 

Desperately, I try to save myself and him all at the same time. 

It is no wonder that I’m riddled with anxiety!

The Woman They Knew

The woman that they once knew has been gone for longer than anyone has noticed.  

As long as they are cared for, given proper attention and feel loved; the image of her does not have to match the reality.  

Ten thousand times the voices in her head are screaming her truth, but are silenced when they reach her bitter tongue.

Existing on a high wire of a magic and mirrors, desperate to be seen and discovered, far too many lean on her shattered shoulders.  

Dreaming of being held quietly and feeling safe are what keep her standing, when she can manage.

Someday there must be retribution or absolution.  

Arms that are strong enough to love her as she so deeply needs.  

Remembering the exact day: a Friday in October over six years ago, when she was hugged and felt real pure love.  

Since that day, heart in a million shards, she has never felt safe.

Lost, all those that were true and pure of heart.  

Angels waiting for her, watching her, a life of pain and loneliness.  

All around her, the woman they know is whomever they choose to see.  

Morphing when necessary.  

Still, knowing the desperation of being all alone in the world. 

A little girl, woman, waiting and wanting a fairytale for just “that hug” that will set her free of just some of the sadness. 

She smiles and listens to their veiled barbs and word attacks.

Nothing shakes her iron walls, quietly she weeps tears that nobody can possibly hear.

Songs fill the room of pain and empty words.

Eyes closed, heart broken and wishing the days away – the woman they know never existed.