I've hit a wall. My wife is not my friend. She's barely even my lover and that's because of me most of the time. This was a particularly bad year because I became sort of enfatuated by a friend of mine for a while. There was nothing to it. Nothing regrettable happened or was even about to happen. The problem remains, though, that she is my friend! We remain friends. We keep within our boundaries. We've never discussed it, we just know. Until yesterday.

Obviously, my wife has a problem with it. I'm BP and so is my friend. We went through a brief manic phase together and feelings got too intense. We knew it, enjoyed the energy of it and let it go. We are still close. We go to the same dog park every day and see each other there, but that is the only time or place we see each other, except for public events and things of that nature. I have nothing to hide.

This past year my wife began checking phone records to count the texts between her and me. It's her preferred form of communication and it spares me having to be stuck on the phone because she can ramble forever. My wife would throw phone bills in my face and talk melodramatically about being "second" and how I cheated because the Bible (I don't believe in) says I did. What do I do with that.

I've felt like hell about it for a very long time. It contributed heavily to my decision to die in August. (One more thing I totally suck at). I feel bad because Iknow my wife hates it and I feel bad that this is a friend I will not let go of. I don't have many to start with. The other thing is that she was there for me in a way nobody else was during one of the hardest times of my life; when my brother died. She was by my side ALL the time. I think she knew then that I was mentally ill. She didn't talk, ask questions, or in any other way threaten my space. She just stayed with me and wanted me to be alright. Like I said, she is my friend. And yes, I will toss out the "L-word". Yes, I love her very much.

For years my wife and I have been distanced by my disease. She doesn't accept me and she does not see me as a whole man. She feels a need to control me and has even said so. She has even said she prefers me depressed because she doesn't like who I am manic. How about "Well". She discourages me. She brings things up when we are being intimate that make me want to get get in the car and put as much distance between us as fast as I can. Then she acts surprised when I shrink away. She is forever applying pressure and now I can't do it anymore. She laughs derisively at my frustration at being in a wheelchair. She dismisses my feelings. She refuses to learn anything about BP and how families deal with it, but I have read a zillion books, been on meds, hospitalized 4 times willingly and been in therapy more years than I care to think about. I feel like I am always racing to be okay, to be acceptable to her and I never will be. I need a friend.

I'm done. I'm done being perceived as the issue. I'm done being disrespected. The other day I was on cloud nine because I heard from someone I once liked in high school, thirty years ago, my brother and another friend from years back on Facebook simultaneously. It was the morning of my birthday. I went out to have a smoke and my wife comes out and starts to talk about this jealousy issue and make a few choice digs about my fallen character, etc. Screw her. That really hurt. It's as if she sees me smile and has to tell me some bad news. I can't take it anymore.]

I mean it. I am afraid because I have been deeply depressed for days. I haven't been to the dog park in two days. I don't want to leave the house anymore. I don't want to talk to or see anybody. I'm tired of life. I'm tired of looking at the world from a wheelchair and be told I should be able to get "close" to the things I used to love. I'm sick of it. I need peace. I need to end and that is what scares me. I am just so tired. does anyone get it?