it has taken me a year and a half to write about that day. for a while, it felt like if i stopped and put my life into words it would all come crashing down on me. I was on survival mode and i was afraid if i let the weight of my life speak, I would drown beneath it. i had five kids looking at me. watching me each and every day. my face needed to say, "it will be alight, i know it." even though, i didn't know it.
it was June 11th, 2010. it was supposed to be a wonderful day. it was the last day of school. there were report cards, art projects and the hope of a whole two months of nothing but fun and play. you don't know know when your world is going to fall apart. there isn't a warning. i can look back now. i can see signs. but that day, i had no idea of the devastation coming. I picked up my kids from school, took them to yogurt. I came home and saw my husband, Steve's car. he wasn't home. i figured he'd come home early from work--maybe gone surfing. the hours passed and still Steve didn't come home. i called him several times and his phone went to voice mail. i was annoyed. he could have left me a note, texted me. when it got past five, i began to get a sick feeling in my stomach. this may have been my warning. just something nagging at me. something wasn't right. deep inside, i was afraid i knew what it was. at seven, my pastor and his wife showed up unannounced on my doorstep. the minute they asked if i was alright, i fell apart. i told them that i was worried that something was wrong with Steve--and now suddenly, months of small changes in Steve's behavior came together and i said aloud, "I think he is having a manic episode."
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