Ariane Beeston writes of the challenges of managing a mental illness within a marriage.
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There are three people in my marriage: me, my husband, and the woman my husband calls “Prudence.” Prudence looks a lot like me. She sounds like me. And she’s a mum. But the similarities end there.
For the past 18 months, I’ve been really unwell. After the birth of our first son, Henry, I suffered from post partum psychosis, a severe mental illness which affects approximately 1-2 of 1000 women. I’ve been hospitalized twice, see a psychiatrist weekly and take both an antidepressant and an antipsychotic.
This experience is, of course, a story in itself but one I’m not yet ready to tell in detail. It’s still a little raw, a little too painful and I don’t have a happy postscript. I’m still working on that part. Which brings me back to Prudence.
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She’s the hopelessness and the worthlessness. The tears, the anxiety and the bone deep fatigue. Prudence is bad days personified.
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Prudence, you see, is the version of myself still recovering. She’s the version who struggles to get out of bed in the morning. The one who puts milk in the pantry and sunglasses in the fridge. The person who bundles her son off to daycare with his shoes on the wrong feet. She’s the hopelessness and the worthlessness. The tears, the anxiety and the bone deep fatigue. Prudence is bad days personified.
Currently, my husband says Prudence appears about three or four days a week. The rest of the time, I’m told, I’m pretty close to being my old self. When I asked him recently to describe what it’s like being around Prudence, my husband tentatively explained that his usually, very low-maintenance wife, is replaced by a woman who is extremely high maintenance. And not in the way that, for example, someone like Kim Kardashian might be. Prudence struggles to make decisions, struggles to concentrate, struggles to parent. Prudence, bless her, simply struggles to function.
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I know my husband feels cheated at times. Prudence is not the woman he married. In recent weeks, on more than one occasion, my husband has explicitly expressed that he wishes “Prudence would just fuck off.” A strong statement, yes, but an honest one. And it’s honesty and team work that’s got us this far.
I remember initially feeling offended when I learned of Prudence’s existence. Actually, offended isn’t really the right word. I suppose I hadn’t realized just how different the illness had made me. Just how much of a noticeable impact it had had. I thought I was doing an excellent job, putting on a happy face, making sure I looked presentable and only crumbling in private.
In fact, even during my most recent hospital admission, I was asked brusquely by one of the nurses why I was smiling at all. When I really thought about it though, really considered what my husband was saying, it occurred to me, just how fortunate I am to be married to someone who gets it. Someone with enough insight to see that I am not my illness. That the real me, the well me, is still in there somewhere.
For the most part, we can laugh about Prudence now. When I do something particularly silly or can’t find the right words, she’s easy to blame. I know my husband still feels frustrated with her and the situation. But he understands. He’s getting better at handling her too.
I know he’s concerned that Prudence will cause me to miss out on things. That she stops me from living my life. And he’s right. Prudence isn’t social. She’d rather stay at home. She won’t take herself off to yoga. She’ll cancel on friends or ask him to cancel his own plans. He pushes her a little more than he used to. And I always appreciate it when he does. Afterwards, anyway.
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It’s hard not to worry that parts of Prudence might stick around. That I might never be who I was before. In many ways though, I suppose I can’t go back to being who I was. Not completely. I’d love Prudence to disappear forever, and she will, but the person left behind won’t be the old me. She’ll be the result of an almost two year struggle with a severe mental illness. The result of someone who has worked hard to rebuild a self annihilated by a condition that swallows your soul.
I can see where my husband is coming from. I’d love for Prudence to “just fuck off.” And I’m looking forward to the me who emerges: stronger, more resilient and wiser when she eventually does. Until then, there are three people in my marriage. And frankly, three is definitely starting to feel like a crowd.
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Image Credit: whatmegsaid/Flickr
Ariane, I have never been able to explain to others how I feel when I am at my lowest. Your beautiful and eloquent article is one I will treasure and show to others. I hope your recovery is continuing and wish you and your husband a long happy marriage together.
More from Ariane:
https://goodmenproject.com/marriage-2/the-crushing-exhaustion-will-pass/
Powerful writing. Thank you for sharing.
You and your husband must have an extraordinary bond of strength and affection to be able to be this open to each other.
Great article. I think it is courageous that you are putting a new spin on the post partum topic and giving the reader a glimpse of what it must feel like. At the same time, I struggle with the fact that as a psychologist, you are choosing to take “an antidepressant and an antipsychotic”. Mind altering drugs which are known to turn people into different individuals, make them do unthinkable things and unbalance the brain chemistry. I am a strong believer that if you have a strong circle of family, friends, co-workers, whatever. Supporters in your life, if you nourish… Read more »
Honestly Ariaine, I don’t know if I would be as loving as your husband. You are correct. You are not the same person he married and he will have to learn to love the new person in his life. Can he do so? Maybe. You are not the same you and he is still the same he. Will the two learn to merge, possibly or possibly not. There is a lot of romanticism around love, but mental illness, as you point out is profoundly changing even to the point of creating a new persona, Prudence. We all change over time,… Read more »
I have this same experience with my wife. I don’t see her as a different person, its more the illnesses manifest in the form of large, slovenly gangsters who I can’t fight off or get to leave us in privacy, and in peace.
Ariane, you are most fortunate to be wed to a man who keeps on choosing to be with you. Yes, long illness of any kind shifts the fundament of who we know ourselves to be … and we change constantly, in smaller ways, through the years. It’s said that we marry one person, and other people emerge over time. Will we like and respect our many selves and those of our mate to remain together? We can’t ultimately know. Certain experiences shatter who we knew ourselves to be, and we can’t always predict what our breaking points are…or whether our… Read more »