Four Things I Wish I Knew During My Wife’s First Stay on the Psych Ward
“Leah is safe now. We need you to come down here to the county hospital.”
We had been married for 30 years. After months of her mania-fueled downpour of “creative energy” and rage, Leah disappeared one Tuesday morning in September 2015. She had been emailing me and texting me sometimes dozens of times a day, and haranguing me ceaselessly for months.
She left her Yahoo account wide open on her laptop that day for a bit of well-intentioned marital snooping. And I was plenty scared when I saw that her outgoing messages had come to a dead stop.
Around dinner time, when the nurse in the psychiatric ER called me, I was relieved — and thrust into on-the-job training for a role I’d never planned to undertake.
Here are four things — among many others — I wish I knew at the time.
1. Insist on answers in plain English about the evaluation and civil commitment process.
“Your wife is on a 72-hour hold. If her doctor thinks that a civil commitment is needed, the staff will contact pre-petition screening. The aim blah blah stay of commitment blah blah . . .”
The psychiatric nurse and social worker might as well have been talking in Martian for all I understood about the process. Luckily, my fishing buddy Fender was a social worker and explained it to me:
“See, Jeff, to hold someone against their will in a locked psychiatric ward, the court has to issue an order based on the evidence at hand — including the psychiatrist’s recommendation.”
“Uh-huh. What about the husband who’s in complete freak-out mode that they’re gonna release his wife before she’s ready?”
“Theoretically, the family member’s account can be a factor. Or they might not give a shit what you have to say.”
That’s what I mean by plain English.
“Just remember,” Fender said, “it’s all for Leah’s own good She’s really sick.”
I needed to hear those words in plain English, too.
Bottom line? Either have a fishing buddy who is a social worker or contact the National Alliance on Mental Illness website for information about your state’s commitment process.
2. If the nurses and social workers tell you to stay away from the psych ward, do so.
“It’s best you not come down here to visit her,” Nurse Laura said. “You might set her off if she sees you.”
During her first week in the hospital, Leah bounced around the psychiatric ICU like a pinball. She called me each morning at 7:00, demanding that I come visit her right away because she was being held against her will and she needed me to bring her work and all of her stuff and so I had to get down there now. “And bring me flowers from the garden!”
For the first week, I complied. I fought road construction and had to hunt for a parking spot and shlepped flowers and whatever else she said she needed. She might act gratefully to me for a few moments and then launch into a sudden tirade. I’d leave after two or three minutes, demoralized, guilty, angry, and utterly despondent.
Bottom line? It was her mental illness talking, not her. I wish I hadn’t taken everything personally. I wish I had done job of creating boundaries and stayed away.
3. Mental illnesses are medical illness.
There are reasons a psychiatric unit is located in a hospital. Your loved one’s illness isn’t the result of a criminal mind or moral failing or bad karma. The doctors, nurses, and staff are doing their best to treat a patient with a medical problem. It’s sad and frustrating and at times feels hopeless. Eventually, patients get well enough to leave the unit.
Bottom line? If you remember that your loved one needs medical attention, it will help you fight the stigma and give you hope that he or she can be successfully treated.
4. Remember the 3C’s: You didn’t cause it, you can’t control it, and you can’t cure it.
I found that out later on from a guy in my NAMI support group, who learned it in an Al-Anon group he attended.
My wife had done a stellar job of gaslighting me. Confused, in love, and inexperienced, I had to resist Leah’s accusations that I had conspired to get her hospitalized. In fact, she was 57 years old, and for unknown reasons, she went manic that summer.
I became unglued from the fallout of her illness. Only with the support of NAMI, my own therapist, my family and friends, and my doctor did I begin to take care of myself, which was the only thing I could control.
Bottom line? After three additional hospitalizations and a nightmarish four-year struggle, Leah’s psychiatrist found the right med nearly a year ago. The state of the world notwithstanding, she and I are doing well together two weeks shy of our 36th wedding anniversary.
And more to the point here, I am doing well. I never thought I’d be the one who could offer hope to others in my shoes.
Interested in learning more about a spouse’s experience in the face of a loved one’s mental illness? Unglued: A Bipolar Love Story (Boyle & Dalton) will be released the first week of August.
