MichaelMaso
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Hello CWE, (this is jumbled..)
I've come here to tell my story as it stands currently. I have recently separated from my wife of 3 years (together for 7), who has temporal lobe epilepsy and partially medicated petit-mal and grand-mal seizures. She has anywhere from 5 - 40 seizures a day (violent petit mal) and possibly a grand mal every few weeks, but can have periods of up to two months without any seizures at all.
She is dignified, proud, and courageous. Beautiful, wise and kind.
Our marriage has multiple problems, all of which are virtually impossible to separate from each other. The current understanding is such that neither of us want to make it work (or at least thats what we are saying). Personally, my mind changes regularly, and I'm not fit to make a conclusive decision. To me, the marriage is not the issue, I still want to be in relationship with her, but not in the way that it has been. I feel that I married too young and for the wrong reasons, and I need time to get my shit together.
Previous to separating, we were living at her parents house, as her care requirements were more than I could handle. I suffer from my own list of problems of reality, relating to mental health, and living with her folks was the only way to survive. This did not work for me.
During the course of our relationship, her epilepsy has got steadily worse. She is dependant practically, for cooking, showering, getting to and from places etc. The combination of emotional/relationship co-dependance, and the practical dependance, has taken its toll, and I have had a breakdown, and have had to leave the situation. I had become suicidal. My mental health issues are obviously my own, but they are inseparable from the environmental factors of the pressure of caring, and a dysfunctional relationship. Right or wrong, failure or not, I am coming to terms with the fact that I simply wasn't coping, and now the dust has settled, and I'm taking stock of the situation. Her mother has taken over the caring role.
Significant to the situation, is the grand plans and dreams we had for our life together. The aspiration far outweighed our capacity. We wanted to live out of town, have kids and grow a big garden. Her parents, having a pool of money, generously offered to help us, and we accepted. They bought 2 acres of land with a cottage, and it became ours. We started work, whilst balancing a job in the city and support for her epilepsy.
I put all I had into making the dream a reality, and I see now that I wasn't happy, but the plan was everything to her. Slowly I realised that I didn't want to keep working towards that dream, indeed, I could not. The idea of having children in the bush and dealing with epilepsy and my mental health issues, now seems absurd and nieve. She is as far as I can tell, still attached to that dream. The way I need to live, and the way she wants to, cannot be reconciled. I tried for years to do it her way, and have failed.
All through the caring process, I was very careful not to complain about her epilepsy or the difficulties and compromises of caring. Indeed I worked very hard to accept it as part of her story, and to find spiritual meaning in it. I was unwilling to accept there was anything wrong with her. I took it upon myself to be the voice of holistic interpretation of her condition, in the face of the tendency to pathologize epilepsy. Being very close to her, and being witness to her epilepsy 24/7, I came to conclusions about the emotional and psychological elements of her experience. I resented the biomedical dogma of her parents, and observed distressing side-effects of medication. Above all, I saw a direct correlation between her owning and understanding her experiences based on what they meant to HER, and an improvement in her happiness and often, the condition itself. When she explored her own experiences through scientific contemplation, she was empowered. When she accepted the label of 'disability' she was disempowered. This is plainly obvious to me, though apparently obscure to medical professionals.
I didn't realize the level to which I had compromised my lifestyle and my own health, and failed to communicate effectively to her and her family about my needs, limits and boundaries. I see that it is this same failure to communicate about boundaries that led me to over extend myself in the issues of marriage and property. It isn't fair for her, that I said I could do these things, but now have decided I cannot. I dont know if either her or her family really understand what has happened, and I dont know if they want to hear what I have to say. I suspect im not popular in their house.
A huge dilemma for me, and a massive source of guilt, is that I have 'abandoned her' to deal with her condition alone. This is torturous. However, I have decided that trusting her to be ok, despite her significant difficulties, is an act of respect. I still am unable to treat her as a sick person. I might be the only person who will not treat her as a sick person. I would prefer to be shown this same respect and trust, and so this is what I will do.
Shortly after we separated, she was approved for brain-surgery, and will be admitted to hospital in 3 weeks. Before we separated, she had decided that she didn't want to have surgery, indeed it wasn't clear it was possible. I cannot help but see a correlation between us separating and her deciding to have surgery. If it works, and the doctors are confident it will, with limited side-effects, then she would possibly be cured. Who knows if she would have made such a brave move, had we not separated. I ask myself, did we need to separate (and with no agreed intention to get back together), before she would take this step? What if something goes wrong? If it goes right, we are still broken up, and I will not be part of her recovery. I will probably not be part of her life as she rebuilds independence.
I dont know whats going to happen, but I can only hope I have done my best.
It is not enough, and I can only hope to continue being honest about what I'm capable of. I dare not hope for us to get back together, but sometimes I want that. I cant tell her that sometimes I want to be with her, because I dont know if I can be with her. I want to tell her its all going to be ok and that I can do it, that I can do whatever she wants, but evidence tells me I would likely be wrong. It hasn't been ok, and I cant do it, at least not right now.
And yet I love her.
If you read this far, thank-you for reading,
Michael
I've come here to tell my story as it stands currently. I have recently separated from my wife of 3 years (together for 7), who has temporal lobe epilepsy and partially medicated petit-mal and grand-mal seizures. She has anywhere from 5 - 40 seizures a day (violent petit mal) and possibly a grand mal every few weeks, but can have periods of up to two months without any seizures at all.
She is dignified, proud, and courageous. Beautiful, wise and kind.
Our marriage has multiple problems, all of which are virtually impossible to separate from each other. The current understanding is such that neither of us want to make it work (or at least thats what we are saying). Personally, my mind changes regularly, and I'm not fit to make a conclusive decision. To me, the marriage is not the issue, I still want to be in relationship with her, but not in the way that it has been. I feel that I married too young and for the wrong reasons, and I need time to get my shit together.
Previous to separating, we were living at her parents house, as her care requirements were more than I could handle. I suffer from my own list of problems of reality, relating to mental health, and living with her folks was the only way to survive. This did not work for me.
During the course of our relationship, her epilepsy has got steadily worse. She is dependant practically, for cooking, showering, getting to and from places etc. The combination of emotional/relationship co-dependance, and the practical dependance, has taken its toll, and I have had a breakdown, and have had to leave the situation. I had become suicidal. My mental health issues are obviously my own, but they are inseparable from the environmental factors of the pressure of caring, and a dysfunctional relationship. Right or wrong, failure or not, I am coming to terms with the fact that I simply wasn't coping, and now the dust has settled, and I'm taking stock of the situation. Her mother has taken over the caring role.
Significant to the situation, is the grand plans and dreams we had for our life together. The aspiration far outweighed our capacity. We wanted to live out of town, have kids and grow a big garden. Her parents, having a pool of money, generously offered to help us, and we accepted. They bought 2 acres of land with a cottage, and it became ours. We started work, whilst balancing a job in the city and support for her epilepsy.
I put all I had into making the dream a reality, and I see now that I wasn't happy, but the plan was everything to her. Slowly I realised that I didn't want to keep working towards that dream, indeed, I could not. The idea of having children in the bush and dealing with epilepsy and my mental health issues, now seems absurd and nieve. She is as far as I can tell, still attached to that dream. The way I need to live, and the way she wants to, cannot be reconciled. I tried for years to do it her way, and have failed.
All through the caring process, I was very careful not to complain about her epilepsy or the difficulties and compromises of caring. Indeed I worked very hard to accept it as part of her story, and to find spiritual meaning in it. I was unwilling to accept there was anything wrong with her. I took it upon myself to be the voice of holistic interpretation of her condition, in the face of the tendency to pathologize epilepsy. Being very close to her, and being witness to her epilepsy 24/7, I came to conclusions about the emotional and psychological elements of her experience. I resented the biomedical dogma of her parents, and observed distressing side-effects of medication. Above all, I saw a direct correlation between her owning and understanding her experiences based on what they meant to HER, and an improvement in her happiness and often, the condition itself. When she explored her own experiences through scientific contemplation, she was empowered. When she accepted the label of 'disability' she was disempowered. This is plainly obvious to me, though apparently obscure to medical professionals.
I didn't realize the level to which I had compromised my lifestyle and my own health, and failed to communicate effectively to her and her family about my needs, limits and boundaries. I see that it is this same failure to communicate about boundaries that led me to over extend myself in the issues of marriage and property. It isn't fair for her, that I said I could do these things, but now have decided I cannot. I dont know if either her or her family really understand what has happened, and I dont know if they want to hear what I have to say. I suspect im not popular in their house.
A huge dilemma for me, and a massive source of guilt, is that I have 'abandoned her' to deal with her condition alone. This is torturous. However, I have decided that trusting her to be ok, despite her significant difficulties, is an act of respect. I still am unable to treat her as a sick person. I might be the only person who will not treat her as a sick person. I would prefer to be shown this same respect and trust, and so this is what I will do.
Shortly after we separated, she was approved for brain-surgery, and will be admitted to hospital in 3 weeks. Before we separated, she had decided that she didn't want to have surgery, indeed it wasn't clear it was possible. I cannot help but see a correlation between us separating and her deciding to have surgery. If it works, and the doctors are confident it will, with limited side-effects, then she would possibly be cured. Who knows if she would have made such a brave move, had we not separated. I ask myself, did we need to separate (and with no agreed intention to get back together), before she would take this step? What if something goes wrong? If it goes right, we are still broken up, and I will not be part of her recovery. I will probably not be part of her life as she rebuilds independence.
I dont know whats going to happen, but I can only hope I have done my best.
It is not enough, and I can only hope to continue being honest about what I'm capable of. I dare not hope for us to get back together, but sometimes I want that. I cant tell her that sometimes I want to be with her, because I dont know if I can be with her. I want to tell her its all going to be ok and that I can do it, that I can do whatever she wants, but evidence tells me I would likely be wrong. It hasn't been ok, and I cant do it, at least not right now.
And yet I love her.
If you read this far, thank-you for reading,
Michael