How Multiple-Personality Disorder Ruined my Marriage by guest @CiaraBallintyne - Rachel Thompson

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How Multiple-Personality Disorder Ruined my Marriage by guest @CiaraBallintyne

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When I ask my guests to share a real, honest story — no holds barred — sometimes I have to coach or pull it out of them a bit. Not in this case. Ciara is a fierce tiger of a woman and if I’m ever in Australia and need an attorney, there’s no doubt who I’m gonna call. She’s also, as you’ll read here, a terrific writer. 

I’m grateful she opens up here about this extraordinary and difficult part of her life. Thank you, Ciara. 

The Last Valentine’s Day 

How Multiple-Personality Disorder Ruined my Marriage by guest @CiaraBallintyne

14 February 2006 I walked into an empty apartment. My husband, L, wasn’t home yet. We tended to get home around the same time and it was an each-way bet who beat who.

A note on the dining table instructed me to log into an email account called ‘youwillalwaysbemyprincess’. Surprised, but excited by the prospect of a romantic Valentine’s Day surprise, I rushed to the computer.

Minutes later, my world was crumbling.

The account contained an email from L explaining he was going overseas to ‘get help.’ He said he was ‘sabotaging our marriage,’ but didn’t explain how.

In a daze, I stumbled downstairs barefoot to check on my car. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason the presence of my car was incontrovertible proof he was gone, the email wasn’t a joke. I burst into tears in the car park, stumbled upstairs blindly to find shoes and car keys and less important things like purses and driver’s licences. I was heading out the door when my groceries turned up. I had completely forgotten them. I shoved the cold stuff in the fridge or the freezer, left the rest on the floor, and drove to my parents’ house.

An hour away. Crying the whole time.

Don’t ask me how, but I made it without crashing. I hadn’t called my parents, so I just turned up on the doorstep bawling my eyes out. What followed was a very confused recounting of events. I don’t really remember it. I remember L’s were called, they came round, didn’t know where he was or what had happened. People tried to call his mobile (like I hadn’t already done that…). No answer. Everyone was as clueless as me.

Eventually I was bundled off to bed. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop the mind working, thinking over and over and over about where he was, what he was doing, if he was OK. I got up at 4am to answer client emails. I hope I didn’t give any bad advice…  No one’s sued me yet anyway. I forwarded the email from L to my boss as explanation of why I wouldn’t be in (yes, I have a good relationship with my boss, in fact I’d say I love her!). The idea of talking to anyone about it was too painful.

In the morning, Mum drove me to work to pick up some stuff and explain to my colleagues (back then it was a very small office – only three of us, a very close-knit group, and I was the ‘baby’ lawyer) and then home. I found L’s phone bill to find the phone number for one of his close friends. She assured me she hadn’t heard from him and didn’t know where he was. Then I found a credit card bill with charges for a cheap hotel in Sydney when my husband was supposedly in Melbourne for training with work.

Then we found L’s mobile phone, left behind in the apartment so I couldn’t call him – and the SMS on it, from the friend I had called earlier, reading ‘I can’t wait until you get here.’

At about the same time, I got an SMS from the bitch offering her condolences and hoping I found L.

To say I saw red is an understatement. There is a reason my Twitter profile reads ‘Cross at own peril,’ and what followed my reading of this SMS is the very worst, most frightening example of how relentlessly, bloody-mindedly single-purposed I can be when wronged.

I sent her a blistering ten-part SMS telling her I knew what was going on and exactly what I thought of her. I used a lot of big words I don’t recall and some profanity I wouldn’t normally utter. Then I got serious.

I didn’t have her address but I knew she lived in Orange (rural New South Wales, Australia – and a 4 hour drive from Sydney) and was supposedly a doctor. I had her home phone number and I had her name. She wasn’t listed in the phone book. I tried to find her address using a reverse phone number search to no avail. Then I hit on the fact that doctor’s work addresses are public, so I called the Australian Medical Association and tracked down what I think was her practice in Orange, but still no pay-dirt on a home address.

Mum tried to pull me off the computer. I’d be at it for several hours. She’d packed away all my groceries and cleaned the kitchen. I told her not a freaking chance.

Eventually I got hold of L’s best man. He knew nothing about what had happened, but because the bitch had helped him out with his website (he was how L met her) he had her home address.

I was headed for the door, baseball bat in hand.

Fortunately for my career, Mum said it was too late to drive to Orange, and if I still wanted to go in the morning, that was fine. Of course, by then, I’d cooled down and I didn’t. All I really wanted was to feel back in control. I knew where he was. I had the address. I could go there if I wanted to. I had control. It wasn’t necessary anymore for me to actually drive out there.

Eventually it came out that L has dissociative identity disorder, or multiple personality syndrome. This is an impossible thing to explain. The easiest way is to say he literally has more than one person in his head, and when one of them takes over, it’s like L has a blackout while the other personality makes all the decisions. Who knew what he had been doing with whom for how long?

I’ve had relationships bust up before. But adding mental illness to the mix increases the emotional difficulties exponentially. You can’t understand what’s happening; how can you explain it to someone else? Everyone is so judgemental. People told me the DID was an excuse for his bad behaviour, and I wanted to scream at them ‘How?? It makes things worse!’ You feel like you don’t know your husband anymore. You don’t know your husband anymore. And neither does he.

The best way I could explain it: it was like going from point A to point B without travelling the intervening distance, and when you get to B it’s a brick wall and you’re travelling 100mph.

It’s like waking up and your life really is over.

I was pretty destructive for a while. I called everyone I knew and told them what he’d done in the space of 48 hours. I don’t recall why exactly. I think because I couldn’t stand the idea of having it drag out over weeks. I yelled at some guy in the street who told me if I gave up my daily coffee I could donate the money to charity. I don’t drink coffee and I had a lot on my mind. I cancelled L’s health insurance. I lost cheques – in fact, when I found them, I had no recollection at all of ever having received it. I strained friendships. I sang a lot of karaoke, drank a lot of vodka, and made a lot of people very soggy.

Eventually I joined an online support group for spouses of sufferers of dissociative identity disorder. The idea of therapy or counselling was complete anathema to me, and this was as far as I could make myself go.  It was the best move I made – just having someone who understood, who could tell me what he’d done with me; needing to tell them was a blessing. These were people who had walked a mile in my shoes. Suddenly I didn’t feel like I was crazy anymore.

Someone did suggest our relationship was codependent, which was something I assiduously denied at the time, but in hindsight they were probably right. I also think L (or one of his other personalities) was emotionally abusive to me. He’d often make jokes at my expense or call me names under the pretence of teasing. Dad didn’t like it, though I brushed it off as a joke. I was fortunate enough to have almost bulletproof self-esteem so it didn’t demoralise me the way it could have (in fact, I hardly even noticed at the time) but it’s wrong that it happened in the first place.

At the time I joined the support group, we were discussing reconciliation. You may think I’m insane, but ‘in sickness and in health’ and all that. I felt I had to do everything I could to make it work – and fail – before I could walk away at peace. So I did. The support group helped me to understand what reconciling would probably mean – no children, letting go of my control freakish ways, and a few others. My one condition was he had to have therapy, because if he didn’t, I knew nothing would change, and what self-respecting woman would put herself through that?

He wouldn’t agree to have therapy, so I wouldn’t agree to remain married to him.

We divorced officially in September 2007, slightly more than 2 years after we wed*.

Now people say to me how amazing I was, how strong I was, how ‘together’ I was. I look at them like they’re nuts and wonder who they’re talking about, because the woman they describe bears no resemblance to the woman I was.

I can attest to this – if it doesn’t kill you, it will make you stronger. And, maybe, a better person.

But I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day anymore. The forge turns iron into stronger steel, but it also leaves its scars.

 

*Australian law makes it very hard to get divorced in the first 2 years of marriage, in case anyone was wondering.

 

Ciara is a writer of high fantasy. She has been reading fantasy since she was 9 and writing it since she was 11. Born argumentative and recognising the long road to make money out of writing, Ciara wisely invested her natural inclinations in a career in law.

Twitter: @CiaraBallintyne

http://www.facebook.com/CiaraBallintyne
Website: http://ciaraballintyne.com

 

 

 

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We welcome your comments and questions for Ciara below. Don’t forget to follow her on Twitter, Facebook, and her terrific blog!

If you’re looking for help with Twitter and other social media, or need help marketing your books on Amazon, contact me @BadRedheadMedia, website: http://BadRedheadMedia.com. 

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Comments

  3. What an absolute disaster of a marriage. You are one tough woman, and I’m glad you got help for yourself. I hope L did, too, but that is no longer your concern. You have a great husband now who will travel with you to rainforests and splash around in puddles in Scotland, and not to mention an adorable little girl who has the best mom in Australia. Good for you for moving on and moving on to something bigger and better. Lots of love.-A

    Reply

    • Nope, he didn’t. He called me a few months after my daughter was born in 2010, wanting to talk. I was hesitant, because I was not in a place where I was amenable to the notion of him telling me he’d made a mistake and wanted me back (like he had done many times before) but what he wanted was to know what went wrong for us. He didn’t remember. He was shocked and, I think, saddened when we hung up, though it wasn’t a long phone call. I wasn’t as tactful as I could have been or, in hindsight, as tactful as I wish I’d been. I think probably one of the other personalities has been in control since we separated, hence his lack of memories. It can be hard for sufferers to seek therapy because the other personalities have a vested interest in avoiding it – therapy can mean they cease to exist. Last I heard he’d remarried, had a baby, and was getting divorced again.

      Reply

      • Wow… I’m divorcing a multiple right now. String of men in her wake over our 21 year marriage. Destroyed, but rebuilding fast, all things considered. Thank you for sharing! It’s comforting to know someone really understands…

        Reply

        • Jason, I was married for 20 years to a woman who has multiple personalities. She was the love of my life and we were deliriously happy for 16 years. But she was suddenly triggered and what followed was years of hell for my young sons and I. If you care to share your experience and vice versa you can reach me at [email protected]@yahoo.com

          Regards,

          John

          Reply

      • Sounds like my divorce. He told me today that he is unwilling to go to therapy and has stop taking his meds. I have to move on with my children. This is too unhealthy. I hope when his other personality comes out , I will still have enough love to explain to him what happened.

        Reply

  10. My ex is a paranoid schizophrenic. We made it five years before I almost had my own nervous breakdown due to the stress and had to get out of the marriage. It’s a sad thing and a very difficult thing. And isn’t it funny how you can live with someone with such a condition and not know it? When I found out my ex was diagnosed PS, it was a light-bulb moment… “Oh, so that explains a lot!” Glad you made it through it and I hope a wonderful man comes along and makes you love Valentine’s Day once again. My current husband is totally the reward I received for making it through the first one, LOL!

    Reply

    • Yes, sad and true. Thank you for sharing your story, Cindy. Ciara is remarried, happily, and has a lovely young daughter.

      I never realized my ex was an alcoholic. We were young, in our 20s, everyone partied. Never mind that he always had a beer in his hand. Eventually, it would be his undoing — well, the contributing depression and all that goes with it. You think you’re responsible for the emotion upheavals but when you leave, you realize you’re not. Not at all.

      It’s a mountain, sometimes.

      Reply

    • It is very much a light-bulb moment. It’s also a sad reality that (in Australia, anyway, and I doubt it varies much there) 99% of marriages involving mental illness end in divorce. It is a hard thing to live with, and you have to make adjustments to usual expectations to cope, and that doesn’t always work, either – how do you stop expecting someone to behave like a normal human being? And if you have kids, you parent alone, and if you don’t have kids you won’t have kids because you are parenting your partner… Sad realities.

      I describe it as a frog in a hot pot. If you don’t know, if you toss a frog in a boiling pot of water, it jumps out. If you put it in a cold pot, and turn the heat on, it will stay there and boil to death. Or so I am told. I haven’t personally etsted it of course! But it’s a pretty accurate description of my own marriage and I’ve met other women who really relate to the analogy. It’s not until you get out and look back that you realise that damn pot was boiling you to death.

      I have since remarried, and my husband is a wonderful man, but I’m afraid the shine has gone from Valentine’s Day forever. Perhaps it would have been different if my husband was mad about it and made a fuss about it, but he isn’t, and without someone else’s mad enthusiasm for it, I doubt I will regain my own.

      Reply

  18. Lovely Ciara, you ROCK. Thank you for sharing this story.

    My father was diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder when I was 12 years old. Truly there was more than one person living inside his head. From my earliest childhood memories, which go back to before I was 3, my dad’s behavoir was confusing and sometimes terrifying. His various personalities were very unlike. The “good daddy,” his primary personality for most of my childhood, was a loving and protective father, a faithful husband, and a hard-working provider, working two to four jobs simultaneously to provide for our family. One of his jobs, for six years of my childhood, was as the minister of a small church.

    One of my dad’s personalities was terrifying, to say the least. My parents marriage ended on the night that personality came so close to murdering my mother that I had thought she was dead.

    My father also blacked out when different personalities would take over, and have no memory afterward of what he had said and done. After his MPD was diagnosed, my dad’s primary personality changed from the conservative minister father to a hippie-type, pot-smoking, motorcycle rider who ran around with “women” who were only a couple of years older than me.

    As Toby Neal said in one of her comments here, “Severe early childhood trauma/sexual abuse is often one of the precursors.” Yes, that was the case with my father.

    I suppose I am lucky, I “only” developed Complex Post Trauamtic Stress disorder/injury from my insane childhood.

    Hugs to you, Ciara, and to awesome Rachel, too, for sharing your story.

    Lady Q
    PS: Ciara, regarding your statement that “….if it doesn’t kill you, it will make you stronger. And, maybe, a better person.” — my fun-in-dysfunctional saying is: “That Which Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me GrUmPieR.” 😉

    Reply

    • Remarkable, your description of your father sounds very much like my ex! He was a very responsible, loving, caring partner who was always considerate of my needs and at the time we separated the responsible breadwinner of our marriage as I had only recently graduated uni. I was never aware of his other personalities but our relationship was punctuated by occasional bouts of inexplicable behaviour wildly inconsistent with the man I knew and loved. And though I did not consciously ‘see’ those other personalities (because who looks for them unless you know they are there to look for) and they never identified themselves by other names to me, our relationship terminated a number of times before we married. I said above I wasn’t going to say how many, but I changed my mind – I took him back SIX times. Every time we broke up, it was sudden, uenxpected and there was no pre-cursor in the way of arguments or anything like that. Just BAM. Every time he came back and said he didn’t really know why he left. You think it’s just an excuse, but now I think he meant it in the literal sense. But how do you tell someone you don’t remember leaving them? And why did I take him back? Apart from ‘young and dumb’ because the relationship was so good when we were together.

      After we separated, he went much the way of your father by the sound of it – he ran around with a young crowd, I heard there was drugs involved, he wontheir friendship by buying stuff for them, drugs and others, hooked up with some pretty young thing, got her pregnant, married her, and broke her heart. People said I should have ‘warned’ her, but I’m certain she was told I was the evil bitch queen. I do, in some way, wish I was able to share with her now my experiences.

      Your own issues are one of the reasons I had to face not having kids if I stayed with him. It’s not fair to knowingly bring children into that kind of environment.

      I love your saying!

      Reply

      • I can certainly understand your taking him back so many times. You loved the good and loving person he was most of the time. It is very bewildering when the personality you love, shares his body with one or more other personalities, particularly when one or more of those personalities are hurtful and anything but loveable. And of course you didn’t realize that he had made more than one personality, who would ever expect such a thing? When the truth came out with my father’s MPD/DID diagnosis, then all the craziness made sense, in hindsight. But at the time that it was happening, before we knew the diagnosis, my dad’s changeable and sometimes bizarre and abusive behavior was just plain confusing.

        For anyone interested in learning more about Dissociative Identity Disorder, which was previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder, I highly recommend reading The Myth of Sanity: Divided Consciousness and the Promise of Awareness by Martha Stout.

        Psychological problems are extremely hard on marriages, so I’m not surprised at your finding that the vast majority of divorces involve mental illness of some kind. As I said in my first comment, I have Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder as a result of my abusive childhood. My husband also have PTSD, his was caused by Vietnam combat. It’s a hard life, in some ways, with us both being so dysfunctional at times. But the good thing in our case is that we totally understand each other, and neither of us expects the other to be very “normal.”

        Truly, we put the FUN in dysFUNctional. Even our precious rescued dog, who happens to be an Australian Cattle Dog of the Red Heeler variety, has PTSD from the abuse she went through as a puppy, by her original owners. She has nightmares and a very pronounced startle reflex, panic attacks and depressions and hypervigilance. But she is also pure love, and we feel very lucky to have her, she fits right in with us.

        I’m so glad you have a happy marriage now, Ciara. When you’ve lived with a man who has more than one personality, finally having a normal marriage toa normal man must seem like paradise in comparison. My mother’s second husband was a godsend to our family, especially after the trauma we had all been through.

        I do want to say this, though, about the plight of those who suffer from DID, or Multiple Personality Disorder: I can’t even begin to imagine the hell they must have lived through to become so psychologically fractured, and the hell of trying to function in life, to work and earn a living and have relationships, when their personality keeps changing and fading in and out, losing time and not remembering things they’ve done and said — that has to be a special kind of hell, all on its own. For many years I deeply resented my father’s psychiatric illness, and his many abuses. But now that I’ve learned more of what DID/MPD is about, I am amazed that my father was able to work most of his adult life, and provide for our family — to me, that’s the eqivalent of running a marathon on two fractured legs. I believe that my late father did the absolute best he could with what he had, and I am able to honor his memory now, and to remember with love and appreciation the good personality who co-existed with all the others.

        Reply

        • I’ve said that – when your partner behaves in bizarre ways, no normal person thinks ‘Wow, maybe he has more than one personality’ – but in hindsight, all the puzzle pieces fall together.

          I totally agree it must be a nightmare for those who suffer from it. What must it be like to wake up and not know where you’ve been, or what you’ve done, or with who? What must it be like to wake up and find your spouse or partner gone and not know why? I can only imagine, and in this instance I’m sure my imagination does not even come close to the horror of the reality.

          Reply

  34. Ciara, my heart breaks hearing the story of your marriage, a love still, now lost, and others who have shared their own stories about this huge mental illness. I see you in a much better place now and admire your strength. Huge strength.

    Reply

  39. Hi Ciara,

    Sad story. I’ve been married once and separated 4 times and have experienced every emotion. Two of those partners had mental health issues. One sexually abused my daughters and I lived with anger and violence for 3 years, and that affected every relationship after. I’m certain she had multiple personalities, but the one she favoured was the insidious one. These experiences make some people stronger, more often the pain remains and no one notices. The longevity of caring is questionable.
    Thanks for sharing.

    Reply

  40. Hi Ciara, and EveryOne.
    Your experience was horrendous, Ciara. Multiplied by the fact that you weren’t dealing with a ‘normal’ person.
    If you had known the nature of your husband’s problem, it would have been much easier for you.
    Mental illness is rampant in the human population. The way we usually find out is when someone literally goes off the deep end. It’s usually what triggers a diagnosis.
    I’ve been through it too.
    About making you stronger or killing you, I think it’s true. Sometimes the old you is gone and you never look at things again, the same way.
    Life isn’t perfect for anyone. But mental illness is a tough one. No one asks for it and it ruins lives.
    The best we can do is to just do our best.
    You’ve done very well. Good for you!

    Reply

  41. Thank you for sharing this…I just left my husband three weeks ago because he had been hurting me and started hurting my daughter. He is getting kicked out of the US Military because of D.I.D. He has cheated on me, hurt me emotionally and physically, and I feel like it has just completely destroyed me. Now I’m alone with two kids and just completely distraught. What is that support group you joined?

    Reply

  42. Your piece was one of the most helpful things I have read to help me come to terms with my wife’s DID diagnosis. Thank you for having the courage to share your story! I have felt so a line with this. My wife and I have been working on our marriage for years but it makes sense to me that there is little hope for us if she doesn’t reintegrate and stop the destructive behaviors she engages in. I wish I knew of a support group that I could talk to before I go crazy.

    Reply

  43. If you live in the UK, there is PODs-online.org.uk. But I haven’t found any good online support groups for the significant other. There are some, but none of them seem very active.

    Reply

  44. Imagine 27 years… I am just getting out of mine and he was severely psychologically abusive with some physical and I have CPTSD IT IS HORRIBLE…

    Reply

  45. I completely understand, be thankful you found out within 2 yrs. I have been married going on 31 yrs, my husband is in therapy but not necessarily participating. The personalities sabotage therapy progress, there are 5. Men with DID are masters at manipulation. He has a time limit to prove he is working on this and making progress, sad to say I am not holding my breath.

    Reply

  46. Very helpful! I’m in the purgatory of my marriage relationship, the denial broke after years and a 3 months separation. Now that she is ready to find help, I’m also looking for good books, videos, audiobooks that have helped anyone married to a MPD. And if you have/are married to one, how did/do you manage life and boundaries without killing the fire and passion?

    Thank you!

    Reply

    • Marriage to someone with d.i.d. is hard. If you expect a romantic fairytale, you are going to be disappointed, probably. But I love ALL the girls in my wife’s system and they deeply love me and as they heal and interconnect, things are slowly getting better…but it’s still hard. You learn to enjoy the areas that are good and cope with the things that are hard and keep your eye on the day when the healing is done and BOTH of you can be happy together.
      Sam

      Reply

  47. hi and thanks for sharing your story..I am going through the same thing and wonder if my husband has DID. I am so confused because I really don’t know who he is. He left me 10 months ago but literally walking out the door to start another life. This new person looks different, dresses different, eats different food and has different hobbies. It’s left me baffled as no formal diagnosis. Has (sadly) had affairs since leaving.

    Reply

  48. I have this disorder as well. So does my partner incidentally enough. That’s what drew us together romantically. See, when we both found out we had DID, we found it out around the same time. Figuring out what to do next became a shared task. For two fourteen year olds, we needed so much help. I was so scared to confess to my parents that I had blackouts and other people rattling around in my brain, so I had to learn on my own.

    As did my partner. Our systems developed a very strong bond to each other, and I time we considered ourselves a monogamous couple. It felt like an accheivement to me. I had always considered myself monogamous, but with over 13 people in my head, that was hard. I would develop feelings for people so easily. It caused me to struggle with my sexuality as well, since I had always considered myself female, and yet some of my alters were men. Sometimes I felt a deep romantic attraction to women, other times to men, and I could not grasp why. Realizing I was multiple made more sense.

    Since my partner and I were able to form a relationship with each other and consider ourselves monogamous, I felt like I had done the impossible. I had managed to have a normal relationship, despite a very abnormal illness.

    Now, this is going sour for us. We’ve been together over a year, and about two months ago, he formed a new alter. I’ll call him K. K doesn’t want anything to do with me or my alters. He’s private, he lies, and he breaks my trust routinely.

    To elaborate on that: I’m a very private person. I grew up having my privacy routinely violated by my parents, though well intentioned at times, and my sister, out of complete malice. I’m 19 now, and there is only one person in the world I have managed to be comfortable enough with sharing my thoughts and personal items with. That would be my partner system.

    I’ve usually cried at the thought of having to turn over my phone to someone for them to read through it, but I’ve become secure enough to share my personal things with him, and he has always been the same way with me.

    Recently though, K has begun to break every single method of trust I had with my partner. It started with dating another person without my permission. I’ll call him Z. Now the thing about myself as a multiple, my alters and I do not date outside our partner system. We aren’t comfortable with it, it feels like cheating to us. My partner system promised us monogamy, and for a year, it worked beautifully. We were happy, and then K came along, and within 5 weeks of existing, he dated Z, without my knowledge. They’re still together, because I had no choice but to say yes.

    When I said no, K told me “if I can’t be happy, neither can you.” As I was driving to his house, bawling my eyes out, and begging one of his alters to just hold on a little longer, find his sister, find someone to help him stay safe until I could get there.

    In that moment, I realized I no longer had my promise of Monogamy from him. It was polygamy or death for K. I can’t keep doing this though, within a matter of weeks, we’ve nearly split up twice, K has talked about getting a plane ticket to go see Z, and guilted me with veiled threats about how if he can’t see him in person, he’ll kill himself. I’ve spent hours today reading every article I can find, but I’m not turning up much success for my situation.

    I want my promise of monogamy back, but it risks losing my partner to suicide. If I can’t have the monogamy, I’ll continue to struggle with all this anger and pain, because I’m simply not Polyamorous, and I can’t make myself change. My system has turned romantic relationships down from outside our partner, despite some of my alters having no romantic connections because of it.

    I think I’ve lost my point. I’m just so tired at this point, that I needed to unload. I don’t know if anyone has any advice on what to do, but I’m running out of hope.

    Reply

    • My difficult marriage collapsed after 28 years. It’s a long story with many similarities written above.. A sad one centered, around a wife with undiagnosed D.I.D.

      I’m very glad to have found a few others have been through much of the same things and are now rebuilding their lives. The one silver lining, is that all the kids were grown and on there own before things became seriously worse.

      It seems few find this post anymore, judging by the lack of comments, but I’m glad I did. I also thank the original author for sharing her story..

      Reply

      • Thank you for sharing, Bryan. Yes, this post definitely still resonates after all this time. Wishing you well on your journey. x

        Reply

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