Saturday

Hiding in bed

I really did not want to get up this morning. I know I woke about seven, but I lay there for a couple of hours. I even did a little hypnosis.

My husband hadn’t come to bed last night and somehow that made me feel very low – which I didn’t realise until I wrote it down just now!

I finally fell out of bed and went downstairs. He was taking the bookcase off the hidden door in the dining area so that the sanding people could more easily get to the floor under it.

I told him that I was feeling anxious. He was too. We cuddled for a while, then I got ready to start the day.

Stripping

I spent about an hour and a half stripping paint off the skirtings. I’ll do a little more later on. It’s not taken as long as I expected, but the smell is horrible and gives me a headache. We might end up getting  lead poisoning from the fumes.

Into town

Somebody from the crisis team was coming to see hubby this afternoon, so the dog and I walked into town.

There’s a doggy playpen in town, where it’s safe to let a dog off the lead.

Got a coffee and the nice man in the coffee shop gave Darcy the dog a cup of cream (probably not a good idea really, but I thought it was a very kind gesture).

Darcy was off the lead running like a mad thing. Then a lady came into the playpen with a beautiful golden cocker spaniel and they chased each other for a while.

Crisis team visit

My husband wasn’t that impressed with the visitor: she had a strong accent and he struggled to understand her.

He’s discharged himself from their “care”.

One interesting thing that she did ask him was whether he’d ever considered that he might be neuro-divergent! Wouldn’t that be a strange thing if he was ASD as well?

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Sunday

Another struggle to get up

It took ages to get off last night. It felt strange having to share the bed; I’ve become aware that I like to wriggle and fidget before sleep, and with somebody else in the bed I can’t do that. This was exactly the reason my husband gave me initially for sleeping separate from time to time!

It took me ages to get the oomph together to get to up. I remember now that I don’t usually take two sleepers on a Saturday because I like to get up and go fit a run!

He definitely has a number of traits that I associate with ADHD:

• Trouble focussing
• He fidgets and cannot keep still
• Suffers from anxiety
• Dyspraxia
• Loves practical tasks and can focus on those
• Cannot concentrate to read
• Difficulties with relationships

His strong emotional skills and love of practical tasks seem to suggest ADHD more than ASD to me, but I’m just an interested amateur and not a doctor if any kind – and I have no business diagnosing anybody else!

There is plenty of cross over with his bipolar.

Run

I’ve done my first run in a few weeks. I managed the route if planned – only about 2.5km, but I’m happy with that. Now I need to build up the distance a bit.

After a shower, I took the dog to the doggy hotel so that we’d not have to worry about her when the floors are being sanded. She gets ridiculously excited about going there – I think it must be because she gets walks in the countryside and meets other dogs.

When I got home, I noticed that my husband was fairly vibrating with anxiety. I asked him whether it was more important that were talk than sanding the skirtings. He says we’re needed to talk.

The talk

I made us some coffee and we see sat in the front room.

He started the conversation. I think that was because it was taking me to long to get my brain in gear.

He asked me whether I’d thought about what we’d talked about last time in Winchester. I said that I didn’t remember, but if I’d planned to talk then I’d have reviewed the notes I’d made. He said that I should check them. So I did and read them out. There wasn’t anything that I was aware had needed more consideration and follow-up.

Priorities

He then wondered whether he’d actually said what he thought he had. He began talking about priorities, what were my priorities and where did he sit within them.

This stems from something I’d said a long time ago. He had some behaviours that upset me greatly and I desperately wanted him to stop them, and in an attempt to try to get him to stop I said that I trusted him less than my friends or my family.

Over the years, in his mind, this became translated into he was the bottom of my list of priorities. Whether that was what I had said or not it’s irrelevant: my actions confirmed his assessment of that fact.

Of course, when the chips were down, I did choose him over my friends and family. Nevertheless, the sting and doubt caused by that original comment of mine has haunted him ever since and undermined his trust in me.

Care and carer

I said that I didn’t want to be this carer and that I wanted us to be equal partners.

He asked what I meant by carer; for me that meant trying to get him to take his meds when he’s ill and stopping him from taking too many at once, it meant keeping him fed and providing ready meals to stop him cooking in the middle of the night.

Once I’ve stepped into the role of carer, it’s difficult to relinquish that responsibility – it’s also difficult to stop seeing him as somebody who needs protecting from his own actions. When I treat him like that when he’s not in crisis, I’m treating him as “less than” and not my equal.

He says that I never cared for him. He acknowledges the practical care (driving him places, feeding him, calling ambulances, and so on), but I have never been able to give him the emotional care that he needs.

Inadequate

I said that I felt inadequate to his needs – that none of my skills or abilities were what he actually wanted from me. That led to a couple of questions:

• Does he think that I’m bad for him? That I make him more ill?
• Does he want to live with me?

This led him to share that he felt that without my “care” that he wouldn’t have gone to the dark places he’s been to.

I refused to take responsibility for that, however he wasn’t for me to take responsibility.

So am not sure what he wanted from sharing that.

He also said that since it was me that had thrown his life into the air, that I should answer my own questions!

Inarticulate

I was struggling to explain what I was feeling – I was actually crying, but I didn’t know why. I just wanted to be held and to hold.

I went and looked at the emotion wheel given to me by my counsellor. Starting with “sad”, after staring at it for five minutes I settled on “vulnerable” because I wanted to feel safe.

On reflection, there was also an element of “lonely” as well, although I couldn’t explain why then or now.

Why are we doing up the house?

This is a big question, almost as big as “are we a couple?” Without answering it, we do not know what we are doing.

If we are a couple and are determined to stay together, then this house is very much being repaired for our benefit.

I said that over there last few weeks, despite the chaos and destruction, that I’d started to feel hopeful. To start with, it was a connection with the house, then, when I came home on Friday and found him stripping paint, I became hopeful for him and us.

I am hopeful for him because repairing the house gives him something to do. Like any human, my husband needs to feel needed – I really need his help to fully repair the house because there is so much that I cannot do on my own.

It is also absolutely a joint project; his comments last weekend in Winchester when he suggested us claiming a part of the living area each also helped me feel better about the house and the relationship. He really does try so hard to accommodate me!

Pre-shutdown

This was a difficult conversation. He was calm throughout, which helped me. However, because it was unplanned it left my brain struggling and it became as sticky as glue very quickly. I fought it and fought it and feel quite exhausted from the effort. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and shut out all the light and noise.

To be honest, I still feel like that now.

While he was talking, my brain said “he loves me, that’s why we have these conversations” which was useful and possibly slowed the progress of the shutdown a little.

Hopeful

I said that I had been feeling hopeful these last few days, and my husband says that he recognised that, which was good.
I wonder whether my husband feels any hope? I expect that he’s afraid to – I have been terribly unpredictable this last year.

I told him how frustrating shutdowns were. I think he’s starting to believe and understand that.

Something my pattern loving brain observed today was that part of the way through the conversation, things turned to how much nicer they smelt when I washed them at the flat versus washing them at home. We wittered about that for a moment.

What was significant, and possibly important, was that I noticed that my brain became a bit freer after that bit of trivial conversation – perhaps a brief change of subject during difficult conversations would help me in the future.

ADHD

We had a talk about this possible neuro-divergence. I think that it weighs really help him to underage himself and make choices which work if he were ADHD and could then try out tools that work for ADHD people.

Since there’s a possible cross over between ADHD and bipolar (and ASD), we both wondered whether there could be a mis-diagnosis – maybe he’s been treated for completely the wrong condition all these years.

Or maybe it’s a dual diagnosis. Again, perhaps there would be different treatment options if that were the case.

He’s certainly interested in exploring it … I just have to make sure that my own brain doesn’t get carried away with it! I think that would really irritate him.

Winding down

Writing this up has been very difficult, because to start with I suddenly couldn’t remember anything we’d talked about. That is so often the case – my husband talks about his feelings and struggles and I get overwhelmed and have zero memory of the conversation – when that happens, I am unable to come back to him in anything we’ve talked about.

Hopefully, we’re going to have a relaxing evening tonight…