Lately I've been thinking of my husband and how he's had to live with an undiagnosed and untreated spouse. I wonder if I had been diagnosed and on medication from the start if our journey would have been that different, and just how much the disorder has played a role. I can't blame everything on it but I can't discount it's effects either. Would I still have been angry, said those stupid or scathing words, thrown the tantrums, or made sure he was confused and as hurt as I was? How much has been me and how much has been the illness?
I am certain of one thing though: he loves me. He absolutely, unconditionally loves me. He loves me in sickness and in health because he has decided to. I am grateful. He is one of the few people who truly can love unconditionally and not be swayed. I shamefully cannot say the same thing about myself. I have my limits. I shouldn't, but I do. If the tables had been turned would I have reached that limit?
Though I did jokingly inform him the other day that the diagnosis does not absolve him from his responsibility during the tumultuous parts of our marriage. I guess it would be easy for both of us to try that.
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
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