I’m afraid that my spouse will leave me one day.
Not because of anything I did or said, but rather, because of the things I didn’t do.
My bipolar disorder is treated by amphetamines. And when they begin weaken I find myself incredibly tired; painfully tired. This fatigue is called the cliff.
My spouse has the energy of a Jack Russell Terrier and wants to play and play and play. Problem is, I’m sullen, I’m racing on amphetamines, I crash at turn three. And he keeps up the frenetic pace: movies, plays, parties, happy hours, garden walks.
Like now. I’m so tired I could cry, but he’s invited me out for a movie.
How often can I say “no thanks, I’m so tired,” before he finds another Jack Russell to play fetch?
It’s not that I don’t want to see a movie or play, attend a dinner party or picnic at Ravinia, stroll through the Botanic Gardens or Morton Arboretum, I simply don’t have the energy.
I’ve tried to fake it, fallen asleep during concerts and movies; so fatigued that I don’t even stand up at intermission; mind-numbing sleepiness causing me to forget names of close friends or our destination.