In an attempt to be more honest

My blog has not been the only thing I've neglected of late. There have been a few close friends that I've pushed away. In the interest of staying honest with myself and learning how to be more open with those that love me, about my feelings. I sent this recently to 3 very special friends that have been in my life for 10 plus years that I found myself pushing away lately.

This letter also lays it out the reason for my absence as of late.

I hope you don't think less of me by sending this to a few others but this is something that needs to be said to all of you.
I have so much to say its hard to know where to begin. Recently it was made aware to me that I’ve been this person that everyone else finds it so easy to turn to when the seas of life get rough, yet when the storm clouds close in on me, I don’t give those who love me the chance to help me weather the storm.

This is me, reaching out.

It would be a mute point to tell you that things have not been right with me for a long time. It all started about 2 years ago. Sure there has been a few rays of sunshine, there has been calm seas. But hindsight is always 20 /20 and I’ve realized that its always been on the surface, I’ve just been pushing it deeper and deeper. Recently someone said that it feels like they have been pushing all these bad things down in a bottle. Just shoving them down just to get by, just to function. They packed it so tight that it has burst, shattered beyond repair. This person is my husband. My bottle has not yet shattered but it's most certainly cracked.

There have been things that I’ve hidden, from myself and from you. Partly from shame, partly because I kept telling myself “fake it till you make it..” The first thing is my hearing. I didn’t want to have the problems I did. I could see my father and grandfather and know how bad it was going to get. And I just couldn’t accept that that was the road I was going to head down. It was a joke, “Fran hears what she wants to hear” “how can you ear a pin drop from another room but can’t hear me when I call you?” And heaven help me I really wanted it to be in my head. I’ve come to the cold hard realization that it’s not. And I’ve done a lot of damage to my life because of my ignorance. I’ve avoided friends and social and/or professional situations all because I felt like a leper. So many of those I love have no idea the severity of my social phobia, they’ve known something was legitimately wrong with my hearing (it’s obvious and I know that) But do you realize that over the years there have been entire conversations I have winged. Grasping at straws to try and piece together what you were trying to relay to me? And the past two years it’s gotten worse. Much worse. I wouldn’t wish my worse enemy what I’ve experienced at times. There was one day when Stella and I were alone for a while; I was in the kitchen and doing a few errands outside as she was supposed to be sleeping. I realized that she had been down for a while and I hadn’t heard a peep. I walked in to her room and never before and never since had she been so distraught. She had been crying, screaming for quite awhile. And I never heard her. I was in the same house and I couldn’t hear her. My nightmares are filled with the cries I walked into that day. My hearing is VERY VERY bad. I have what is called reverse slope hearing loss. And if my “slope” went forward, I would have a speech impediment. That‘s how bad it is. And I’ve been told that my hearing could be slightly (he said emphasis on the slightly) better to that of my legally deaf father, or it could be worse. That because my loss is genetic I can look to him as a here is where you're going to be 20 years from now. I’ve only very recently embraced this, embraced the fact by trying to ignore it all these years has been more of a handicap than being deaf will ever be. Hearing aids are in the works, as well as sign language classes. Learning to enjoy social situations again, that’s taking some time but I know I’ll get there.

Here comes the second and perhaps biggest thing I need you to know

Ned had a nervous breakdown about a year and a half ago. I can’t say that one particular thing caused it. At the time there were things, things that we really couldn’t control, that cracked that bottle. Knowing what I know now, this was going to happen whether or not those things came to pass or not. He was suicidal, and we for a few weeks seriously considered hospitalizing him. He started therapy and for a little while the seas calmed. We would go a few weeks and then the storms would come raging back in. I battened down the hatches and locked out the world. I couldn’t break down to anyone, less I would lose the strength my daughter needed. Less I lose the strength I needed to get out of bed in the morning. And life, not giving a damn what you are going through at home also smacked me around. We lived in a town that when you fiercely protect details about your life, people in that town decide that you must have something to hide and make up their own theories about you. And the pressure from home and work just pushed me to a point where I was not handling anything-well AT ALL. Again, it’s life; I know that it’s never meant to be perfect. But soon between Ned’s breakdown and some other situations we decided to leave as soon as possible to start fresh, we didn’t expect the grass to be greener, just perhaps the weather would be a little nicer.

And it was for a short time. And heaven help me, I meant no disrespect by not calling or contacting you. But I had my happy family back for the first time in a long time. And I didn’t want to waste a second of it. Probably because somewhere down inside I knew it wouldn‘t last.

Two weeks ago. After one of the most vicious fights in our marriage, my husband broke. We immediately took him to the hospital; both his sister and I feared that his tumor had returned. His behavior was so unlike him. I had been fighting this fear for a few months as he had been getting sick and his migraines were getting worse. The scan came back clear but this meant that it was psychological.

See after Ned’s 1st breakdown, I found out that his parents are bipolar. The stories I had heard about them, and the experiences of a bipolar friend I had a few years back didn’t jive with the experiences I was having with Ned. Plus his previous psychiatrist told us that he suffered from severe depression and anxiety. But I’m sitting in the hospital with Ned that night and the Psychiatrist starts asking a particular set of questions and one by one the pieces start falling into place. He was finally diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. And he was hospitalized for a week. He’s begun what will be a lifetime of medications. But this is just the beginning of a long road for the both of us. For I have to help my heart learn as my head now knows that the horrible words that often came from his mouth (there was NEVER any physical violence) were not coming from the man that I married. I relayed that night in the hospital, the things he had said to me during our fight and Ned was flabbergasted and distraught that he would ever say such things to me. He doesn’t remember them. And countless doctors since have told me that he didn‘t mean them. It was in fact, his illness. But when these things were going on how could I come to you and tell you what he said to me? Somewhere inside I knew that it wasn’t him. But I also knew that if I repeated it to you that most of you would have told me to leave. Yes, I put up with it so much longer than I needed to. But I didn’t know what I was up against. And as Ned so elegantly puts it, “it’s hard to see the forest when you‘re standing amongst the trees” Ned has handled this so pro-actively. He’s educating himself; he understands the importance of his medications and therapies. He in no way wants Stella to have the same kind of family life he had. And I have made it very clear to him that if he doesn’t remain pro-active about his treatment, that Stella and I are gone. For She and I can no longer live in the kind of house we were living in. Again, he was never physically abusive. But the verbal abuse, the paranoia, the weeks of depression was really starting to get ugly. And my daughter is much too beautiful and wonderful to grow up in that kind of house. But I'm so happy to tell you though, that the Ned I love is beginning to appear again. We are laughing again. He is more patient and supportive. We are healing. Again the road will be a long one. But as long as he works hard, I will always do the same.

So here we are. We are both going to be utilizing our time here. Where the future takes us we shall see. But I know now that I cannot live my life trying to protect Ned from the world nor the world from Ned. That my happiness my fulfillment is just as important as it was before he was in my life. So I’m diving in again. And I’m nervous, excited, scared, but invigorated.

I’ve been neglectful of so many things for these two reasons. One of the most important “things” has been you. Please know from the bottom of my heart I never meant you harm. And I’m sorry I never gave you the opportunity to be there for me. I’m hoping that some day I can make it up to you.

Yours always,
Frances