FluxInBlackContributor
From Bliss to Betrayal: Navigating Heartache and the Need for Connection
Hello Friends,
Five months back, life was good. I'd just kicked off retirement, ready to soak up all the freedom and focus on my family—my wife, who's been battling mental illness for 25 years, and our two wonderful teenage boys, who I love more than anything in the world. It felt like a fresh start.
Then, overnight, my world flipped. I was blindsided by a fake IVO, my bank accounts drained, and our savings locked away. My carer's payment got rerouted, and suddenly, all our friends turned their backs on me. I was left homeless, broke, and utterly alone. The shock was indescribable, and the worst part? I had no clue why this was happening. An inkling, maybe, but nothing concrete.
In therapy, I listed down every issue crashing over me—80 in total, many critical. The chaos led me to a dark place, and I nearly ended it all, only to be saved by the police and a two-week stay in a mental health facility. Now, I'm just getting by, renting a room and struggling to make ends meet. But it's the loneliness that's crushing me, which is why I'm reaching out here.
My wife, diagnosed with Bipolar 1 Ultra Rapid Cycling at 16, has always been my heart. Despite the challenges, including her battle with two eating disorders, I've never stopped loving her. We've navigated her highs and lows, hospital stays, and a cocktail of medications together. I've loved being a dad, running a business, and being her partner through it all.
Then, the knee pain started. Her GP incredibly prescribed her Oxycontin, which not only altered her personality over time but also negated her bipolar meds. So effectively, she's been off her proper medication for three years now, still chasing the high from Oxycontin—first through deceit, now through darker means. It terrifies me that she's the primary influence on our boys, driving them around, draining our savings on the Oxy. I'm just waiting for the call that there was an accident.
She'd been plotting my evacuation for six months, turning the kids against me and poisoning our friends' views of me. Now, I'm stuck in this nightmare. People say it gets better, but for me, it's only gotten worse. The pain of missing my boys is unbearable, matched only by the sting of isolation. I crave human connection, just like anyone else.
Sharing my story is a step towards healing, in the hope of making new friends, finding a supportive community, and exploring any advice or help out there.
If you've made it this far, I can't thank you enough. And if you're up for it, I'd love to hear from you.
Cheers, Flux