I can't stop wondering what will happen when my husband is stable again, if that ever happens.  I have been hurt so deeply emotionally that I'm wondering how I can ever forget the hurthe has caused.  He has said things during this illness that are unforgivable, and while logically I realize that it was the illness not him, I can't shake the memory of the pain.  Maybe I will post for advice about this later.

 The man I married was kind and supportive.  He would never have done things to hurt me.  Now, he almost seems to enjoy it.  He complains constantly about our dog (a yorkie), which he bought for me two years ago and he knows I love, looking as if he enjoys the hurt it causes me.   Often, he begins complaining about things as soon as I walk in the door before he even says "hello".  Where has the supportive, loving man I married gone?

Even worse, he picks at our son constantly, to the point where he is afraid to be alone with his father, and insists I come too, or even better instead of.  It breaks my heart as I'm wondering what this will do to their relationship.  At least my daughters and myself are old enough to remember the caring, kind man he was.  I don't think my son does.  I intervene to protect my son, and that bothers me, too, as I know parents should present a united front.   But the things he expects of the child are inconsistent and at times unreasonable.  For example, we have never been big on making any of our children "clean their plate".  I've read that it can be harmful and even lead to overeating later.  When I was at class this week (I go to college once a week working on my master's degree), he made him clean his plate.  My son complained that his stomach hurt from eating so much.  It may seem like a little thing but it's just an example of how he wants to change the rules for all of us. 

When he is well again, for I have to believe that it will happen, will I be able to forget the things he's said and done?  A part of me can't help but wonder if he felt this way all along but was just hiding it.  The first time he was in the hospital he met an older patient, who I gather was severely pshycotic.  He said she was so smart and helpful and he believed everything she said, even though she was giving him terrible advice, like "don't take your medicine", and "if you fight this, they will let you out".  When I tried to talk to him about it, he said I was stupid and didn't know anything.  I still feel the hurt from that.  He was willing to believe that a stranger was more concerned about him than me.

I feel that I am wasting my life waiting for things to get better.  I think that if I found I had a limited time to live, I would ask him to leave immediately because I know I cannot spend the rest of my life like this.  The constant stress of never knowing what to expect from day to day, the frequent hurtful comments, the inconsistency, are all making me feel hopeless and depressed.  This is how it is every weekend when I'm home to spend time with him.  How awful is it that I look forward to going to work tomorrow morning?

I'd better go now.  Hopefully, I will get a chance to post some questions later as I need advice.