About three months ago, my husband of three years had his first ever bipolar manic episode and diagnosis. We had made a cross country move the previous summer, and the anxieties of work, moving and familial issues along with marijuana abuse proved to be dangerous combination. We have been together a long time, and nothing like this had ever happened before in our time together, or in his life prior to our meeting. There were 911 calls, exhausting sleepless nights, ER visits, and ultimately admission to a facility where he stabilized and recovered.

It was frightening witnessing my best friend, the person who I love most in this world and know everything about, essentially lose his mind, become a danger to himself, and need to be on lockdown. Once he was finally home and recovering, it felt like I became the one who was not doing so well. I would wake up in the middle of the night panicked that something was wrong, and spent most of my time worrying about him.

Today, things are finally getting back on track for the both of us. He is happy and stable and knows the importance of taking his medication, which thankfully hasn’t come with many side effects. After finding a good therapist for myself, I am sleeping well and doing my best to not be in constant caretaker mode.

Just a little while ago, it felt like the diagnosis had taken over everything. But it doesn’t feel that way anymore. I am grateful that I have him back, safe and well, and to know that this is a manageable illness. I am also grateful that I am able to sleep, and for the friends and family in our lives on both coasts who have helped us through this. We are both better equipped to manage our anxieties now and are on our way to being healthier together.