On November 20th, I made a vow to my husband that I would always try to take my lithium. It was not a vow I put in lightly. "I don't want to promise things I can't keep." I told him over and over. Although our vows were a surprise, it was one I knew he wanted me to say. In the end, I only made the promise to try. I'm glad I did, but nothing could have prepared me for how difficult it would be-- or how much I would break it.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Kristi in her wedding dress reading her vows to Calvin who is wearing a black suit.
Two weeks later, I would be suicidal. He called in back up and asked for company from friends as he stayed holed up in the shoe with me. Later on he would admit that he knew if we hadn't gotten married, it would have been the end of our relationship. I'm one to hide away and put on a front when I'm unwell. He knew that had this happened before our vows, I would have hid from him too.
There had been an assumption that I’d feel less frightened to be with someone if married, but it turned out I still wanted to hide away. Adjusting to having someone be around for better or for worse has been a challenge for us both.
The last nine months have been harder than I think either of us thought it would be in our lifetime. With multiple manic episodes, depression, extreme anxiety on my end-- and his depression and anxiety, we've been on the rollercoaster ride they call marriage
Calvin and I did something a bit unconventional when it came to our relationship. We didn't move in fully until very recently. As time went on, he was at the shoe more and more-- but it was a slow move with baby steps taken each time. We knew it would be hard to adjust, but I'd had three roommates and figured it would be okay. But it's entirely different sharing a house with someone full time than sharing a room full time with someone. Not to mention my past roommates enjoyed solitude or were often away for various reasons.
Someone slipping in beside you when you haven't showered in days, and can barely speak is another thing entirely. You can't fake it 24/7. I'm a pro for a solid 8 hours, but beyond that, the mask tends to slip off. I thought Calvin knew what I was like when sick. In fact, I was so sure that it was the only reason I agreed to enter a relationship. He had seen the depression, and the hypo-mania. He wasn’t going in blind— but he hadn’t seen me without lamotrigine. Had I known what was coming, I never would have wanted to put him through that.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Kristi pointing at Rick and Calvin on the other side with a half smile. They are standing behind the bar at the Duke.
During a manic episode I heard voices for the first time. Not screams or sounds like usual. I also found myself on the floor rocking back and forth as I shook from head to toe fighting the things inside my brain that are too difficult to share with an unknown reader. I would crawl away from him and hide behind the chair with my hands over my ears. He said when he looked into my eyes, I wasn't there. And honestly, although not afraid of violence, he was scared.
(This paragraph, perhaps more than any other, is terrifying to share. I’ve added and deleted stuff about how I dealt with this in connection with work, but in the end this is about marriage and all that matters is that I have people & systems in place to help that area of my life.)
Other times I would sit bolt upright in bed and tell him he HAD to listen to me or I was going to dance. He would listen to the rushed stream of words that tumbled out-- often stuttering from the speed. There was the agitation. The most agitated I've been since before getting diagnosed, and I would see the confusion as he looked at me and couldn't figure out why. Then came the paranoia. He would constantly be checking into things as I was convinced people could hear me, phantom smells, and noises he couldn't hear.
I lost every ounce of confidence-- unusual with mania from what I understand-- but still grand ideas and paranoia that are characteristic of mania made their all consuming appearance. I was convinced my entire online community, which I dearly loved, hated me. He would read every tweet, every post, every word at least three times because I was paranoid about various things. He watched me isolate from everyone whether or not they realized how I was doing it.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Imagine Description: Calvin and Kristi dancing. You can see Kristi smiling widely with her teeth.
I'm more tolerable in a depression. I know how to navigate it much better. He knows it well too. But what do you do with a manic wife that takes off gleefully down the trail and wants to end her life with the same impulsivity that made her buy ANOTHER treadmill on Amazon? (There are currently three in our basement.) He knows I have all the back up plans when depressed-- but doesn't trust me with my life when manic.
I'd entered marriage with the thought I'd never again be that woman. I'd been a terror in past relationships, but thought those days were behind me because I'd found the meds that worked. But we hadn't thought about me going off both lamotrigine and lithium at once.
Had I known, I don’t think I could willingly do this to him.
The crashes would come and the dust settle in the corners of a house that desperately needed to be cleaned. Although accustomed to depression, the events that led to me being afraid to be myself online brought new challenges. I hated advocating. Felt like a failure, and would often cry about going to Confed each Monday. The embarrassment & guilt of standing outside the Waterford, without knowing it bothered the healthcare workers inside, plagued me. I hated thinking about our wedding. Between the embarrassment of thinking about that, and the grief of my parents not being there, I could barely talk about what was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. My hygiene got so bad I battled an eye infection (that happened because of not washing my face) for months and struggled with getting dressed.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Kristi and Calvin laying on their floor in front of the big windows of the shoe with their little black cats playing on the veil.
There would be times outside of these episodes, but it felt like there was no “normal” time adjusting to married life because of extreme anxiety and other things.
Perhaps the most painful night of all was the night we fought about lithium. I was trying for what felt like the millionth time to start it again. Each night he would fill my water bottle and ask me to try. But one day I got angry.
"NO." I told him. He reminded me about my vows. But I continued to resist. Eventually my voice raised and I started to cry. Saying I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be this sick for the rest of my life. I hated my meds. I hated who they made me. He begged. He pleaded. And eventually we both ended up in tears.
That night he slept on the couch. Both of us huddled into little balls and feeling hurt beyond repair. He wouldn't ask me to take lithium again for weeks.
I was too ashamed to tell anyone how bad it was. It was my fault for not taking meds. I was the worst wife. Selfish. I could see the burden growing heavy on his back. I refused to go to the hospital. Eventually I would speak to the psychiatrist about it, but their only words were "You clearly have bipolar. You need to go next time. You're sick. He should take you there."
I didn't bother explaining why I felt so scared to go. Didn't even try. Although grateful for my psychiatrist. I'm just a number. Each appointment is spent reminding them how old I am, why I have an NS number, what I do for work, followed by a three minute silence as they read their notes about me. That is not their fault. Their caseload is likely through the roof and understand how lucky I am to have them at all. I admire their knowledge and owe them my life.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Kristi and Calvin standing on a fishing boat. They are laughing as Kristi tries to hold her long veil in place.
But what a way to spend the first year of marriage. What a way to enter what many call the honeymoon phase. Calvin has his own set of challenges. His depression would boil up. It didn’t care that he was looking after an unwell wife. Each day he would listen to my pleas for him to get out of bed and go to work. If he could manage, it was understood he would crawl into bed at lunch. Setting an alarm for two minutes before needing to be back. At the end of the work day, he'd go right back. Like me, he hides it well. I would watch the switch turn on and off. But in the privacy of the shoe, he would stop eating, throw up, and cry too. His anxiety would rear its head and his battle to stay sober would grow. It didn’t help that wine is more attractive when navigating the shame I feel about being sick.
We have been broken. Our therapy sessions left us exhausted. When we went on our honeymoon in May, it was one of the first times we felt a break in the thunder to enjoy the commitment we'd made.
Were we stupid to get married? The odds were, and are, against us. We got married quickly. He knew I would run otherwise.
Who knows how irresponsible it was. But I do understand that in all those storms, there is a love that is unlike anything I've ever known. My beloved husband is an angel. He wakes up each morning and makes coffee— just as he vowed on November 20th. It goes against his adoration of sleeping in. He stumbles out of bed, grinds the beans, and crawls back in beside me and tries to cuddle me for five more minutes while it brews.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Calvin and Kristi smiling ad each other as they drink their coffee in the window of the WaterShed.
Somehow throughout all this, we have managed to advocate for each other. We see each other through our battles and ask if the other has taken their meds and get the appointments booked. We might not have fight left for ourselves— but there is a fight for the other.
Undoubtedly, I’m getting the better end of the deal. The guilt that this is who he married has been crushing at times. How do I make up for this? How do I show him how grateful I am for his unwavering love? How grateful I am for his understanding? How do I say thank you for getting out of bed on Monday mornings for that first month to make sure I kept speaking about a cause that I care so deeply about? How do I make up for what he has seen and can never share? How does one repay the person who has to walk the fine line between husband and caregiver?
Is this marriage? I've looked at us and wondered how he can continue to stay. How he can love through all this. The thank you cards for the unreal generosity from our wedding guests & online community have gone untouched, three treadmills have gone to waste, and it feels like I've pushed everyone I know away, but yet he is still there. Unrelenting with his love and support. I feel like if our friends understood, they would tell him to leave.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Kristi and Calvin holding hands in their front yard that is by the ocean. Her veil is blowing in the wind.
By July, I was done. I tried to start on lithium again, but all hope had left. I knew I needed to leave this world. Things were lining up. My advocacy felt unneeded because of those who are there each Monday have proven they will carry on, my voice felt silenced because I was too scared to speak anything new, I was convinced Calvin was much better off with just the shoe and cats, and was certain I'd failed my friends once again.
There were two options. I was going to start working on both. Try to get better, but move forward with active plans to leave permanently. They would both be the back up plan for each other. I could physically feel myself dying. (Super strange to experience when it’s from a mental illness.) It's not often, but when it happens-- I prepare.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Calvin and Kristi embracing in the glow of the Duke sign.
Then something happened. I got covid. Calvin was relieved. He could keep an eye on me. He would say later he was absolutely certain I would have ended my life otherwise. And I think maybe he was right. Covid forced me to stop. I took my first day off from work for being sick. I had trouble breathing, sitting up, and was wracked with a fever. But it was also the first time I was forced to let myself be sick. It was a strange reset.
He decided not to isolate away from me given how ill I was mentally. And for two weeks he stayed close-- telling me to rest. To stay in bed without guilt. It was okay to be sick and the outside world completely understood.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Kristi and Calvin embracing and smiling on a fishing boat.
I don't know exactly what shifted-- but something did. Without telling him, I started to take the lithium again. He knew pretty quick that it was working. He gave me that little sad smile and said “Welcome back.”
During those weeks he also had a major life change. He got a new job, and with it his mental health got better too. Instead of grabbing our coffee and sleepily going to our work stations, we would drink our coffee at the same time by the windows. We started staying home more. We talked about us, the world, beliefs, faith, goals, and new ideas. We bonded over work and tried to walk each day.
Somehow it felt like a first step to a marriage that isn’t quite so filled with turmoil. The guilt is still here, but instead of asking him to please stay away, I catch myself reaching out in the night to grab his hand. In the morning I let him cuddle me instead of fighting it.
I love him. So much. He is one of the best and most patient men in this world. And if there is one thing that motivates me each time I try to stick with lithium— it’s knowing he deserves a much better version of me. He deserves calm waters and no turbulence.
Maybe it’s naive, but these few weeks have brought an acceptance that he’s here and he wants to stay. And because of that, I need to try.
For some strange reason, I think we are going to make it for now.
Image Description: Kirk pointing a race car bed.
When I told Calvin about this post, he asked if he could share his perspective. Obviously I said yes. These are his words:
Alright!
Some thoughts on marriage between two people with mental illness:
Requires a shit-ton of patience. She alludes to it above a little bit, but she’s prone to paranoia, neuroses, hypochondria, actual manifestation of somatic symptoms, and even worse at the heights of her mania. It requires me to meet her where she is, which is often times a place that is foreign and strange to me. Love goes a long way, clearly, because I’m usually pretty quick to check on every little thing. Little to no argument from me. Maybe I’m good for doing that., maybe I’m lazy? Maybe it’s just the path of least resistance. It’s not worth arguing about; the time and energy that it would take might be better used checking on whatever it is. At least this way she feels validated and safe. Does it annoy me to check on the basement at 4am? Yeah, a little, but I’m also mostly asleep while I do it, and it just takes a minute.
The patience goes both ways. She puts up with my bullshit, of which there is lots. A more cynical person might say that’s what marriage is all about! Hey-yo!
I’ve actually had to re-write this three times now (they were garbage). And I’m not gonna shy away from that. Mental illness complicates all relationships, but marriage especially. Most couples don’t have a DEFCON system for how suicidal their partner is, but then again some couples do. If you and I had plans, and I fed you some bullshit lie about not being able to make it because the road was washed out I’ll come clean: It was DEFCON2 and I couldn’t justify leaving my wife to her own devices while I watch a mid-season baseball game.
Is this a BURDEN? My wife would say so. My wife does say so. It’s been the source of many fights. I hate it when she says it. I tell her, “babe, if you were anyone but my wife and you said that, I would open-hand slap you,” and I mean it. She may feel that way, sure. I wouldn’t doubt it. Certain mental illnesses will do that to a person. But it’s not up to her to decide whether or not she is a burden to me. I have agency. I decide what is and is not burdensome to me. I have the choice to stay or go. And I made up my mind a long time ago. Fact is that when you marry someone, being a caregiver for them is part of the job description. For some a lot of people, it’s not something they expect to do when their marriage is in its infancy. But sooner or later, age comes for us all. When you marry someone, if you’re serious about it, its understood that at some point along the line, in some form or another, you’re gonna have to look after them. She never hid her illness from me, not from the moment I met her. I knew what I was signing up for. I’m not stupid
It has been challenging, I’m not going to deny that. Its been a miserable year, independent of getting married. There’s lots out there to meltdown about, even if you’re not mentally ill. Good things are worth battling for. Life is better when you’re sleeping in a big bed with your wife than sleeping alone in a racing car bed. Life is better when you can share your wins and your losses with someone you love. And I love my wife very much. I’m infinitely grateful that she had a lapse in judgment and decided I was the one she wanted to spend her life with.
Photo Credit: Alex Stead
Image Description: Calvin sitting at a table signing his wedding application.