by 
The Mental Health project is an initiative in Seattle Times aimed at covering mental and behavioral health problems. It is funded by Ballmer Group, a national organization focused on economic mobility for children and families. The Seattle Times maintains editorial control over the work produced by this team.
Eight years after his career as a sales representative, my husband started to say that people were following him. When I asked him questions about it, he did not answer or changed the subject, so I assumed he just had a bad day. His comments were initially occasionally, but as time went, he said he was constantly being watched. He believed that someone expelled our house and our telephone line was conceived.
I have noticed nothing unusual around us, except for the changing behavior of my husband. I kept asking him questions, but he started to blame me for knew who the conspirators were. I did not understand why he acted in this way because I had not done anything to lose his confidence in me.
Then his employer took him. We spoke about what he then wanted to do and he chose to change a career. We moved through the country so that he could be closer to networks and opportunities at work. After six months of rejections, he gave up to find a job and his paranoia deteriorated.
I had trouble understanding what was happening and trying to find help for him. When I spoke with him about seeing a counselor, he answered angry: “I have no problem. You do it. “
In the end my husband lost interest in everything. Our relationship turned into two roommates who rarely spoke with each other. When my husband started a conversation, he only spoke about the people he believed to follow him and disturbed his daily activities.
As a caretaker I felt guilty. Throughout my life I was the person who could get things done, and others, like my husband, trusted me. I struggled with understanding what happened and my physical and mental health suffered.
My adrenaline was constantly high, as if I was walking a marathon without a finish line. When I was in the office, I feared to go home because I didn’t know what my husband’s mood would look like when I arrived. At home I avoided talking to him because I was afraid that he would accuse me of something that I didn’t do. When he asked questions, I was silent to think about the right words to say before he answered, so he thought I hid something for him. I was constantly tired. It doesn’t matter how much I slept, I never felt rested.
We lived far away from our friends and family, and I was afraid of talking to someone. Would they believe my bizarre stories? Even I struggled to believe them, so why should they?
During a work trip to a conference in the Pacific Northwest, I met my two best friends for lunch. They asked for my husband and I avoided their questions. Finally a friend was bone: she knew something was wrong and she insisted that I tell them. When I did, their reactions were shock and concern. They encouraged me to talk to my first -line care.
My doctor referred me to counseling. At first I did not understand why, but I quickly discovered that talking to someone helped me. I learned that my husband’s lack of trust was not my fault.
My self -confidence returned and I started to set boundaries with him. I no longer allowed him to control our car after he almost caused an accident at a dangerous intersection during one of his delusions. I blocked his access to the pay-per-view cable channels after he started watching shows when I was working.
He did not like these limits, but accepted them when he realized that I would not go back. Nevertheless, the stress of our deteriorating relationship became unbearable and I moved.
Less than three months later, the calls of creditors started to come about the notes of my past that my husband I didn’t know. Soon I had more expenses than income and I moved to my car. I started working a second job, and finally with the extra income and an emergency recording of my 401 (K), I paid off the bills. In the meantime, I have applied for a divorce to financially protect myself.
After I moved, an organization referred me to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. A volunteer there ordered the family for family class, designed for care providers and others who have a loved one struggling with a mental health status. The class, which is given by voluntary facilitators who have loved ones with a mental health status, covers common disorders, their symptoms, treatment options and ways to communicate and plead for their loved ones.
The facilitators also emphasized that we as caregivers should not feel guilty because the struggles of our loved ones are not our fault. They emphasized the importance of taking care of ourselves, because if we didn’t do that, we couldn’t be there to support ourselves and our loved ones.
During this class I learned about a condition called anosognosiaHe prevents someone from recognizing health problems or other disorders that he has. It often occurs in mental disorders such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, Alzheimer’s disease and dementia.
According to the Cleveland Clinic, Anosognosia will meet from 50% to 98% of people with schizophrenia, about 40% of people with a bipolar disorder and more than 80% of people with Alzheimer’s disease.
My husband was never diagnosed because he refused to seek counseling, but his extreme paranoia and his inability to understand that he needed help, led me to believe that he suffered from schizophrenia and anosognosia. He became homeless six months after I moved and died on the street 11 years later.
Although it was almost nine years ago that my husband died, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if he had sought help. There are still times when I feel guilty that I could no longer do to help him, and then I remind myself that I did everything under the circumstances. When I finally got the courage to share my story, I discovered that there are others who will listen and give the encouragement I needed for my own recovery. Talking to them comfort me, assures me that we are not alone and that there is hope.
Much of the care burden falls for women. While many women grew up, like me, we were taught to first take care of others and make our needs a lower priority. But it is important to concentrate on our needs to ensure that we remain healthy, physically and mentally. We must have faith in our capacities and our instincts trust when we have to make critical decisions, no matter how difficult they are.
When I came back to my experiences as a caretaker, I wondered if there was something that I could have done to be better prepared, but it is impossible to prepare for the unpredictable. Even if I knew what was for us, I would not have known how to respond.
As caregivers, we do our best in the circumstances we are confronted with. We are not failures.
Cheryl Landes is a technical communication consultant, award -winning author, photographer and lawyer for mental health care. Her latest book, the best I can do, tells her experiences as a caretaker for her husband, she organizes a weekly creative writing for Wellness Group and facilitates lessons for care providers via the Southwest Washington branch of the National Alliance on Mental Alibess.
