Hi there, guys. I'm new here, but not new to bipolar disorder. I'm 40 years old, and was actually diagnosed with "manic depression" when I was 5. Naturally, that scared the crap out of my mother and she took me and ran like a bat out of hell. The doctor wanted to put a 5-year-old on lithium, and none of those things were in any way normal in 1982, so my mom just tried her best to raise me as best she could. Needless to say, I was a pretty messed up kid, adolescent, teenager, and young adult.

It wasn't until I was 23 years old and found myself raising a fist to my 5-year-old child that I decided to seek help. No, that fist did not come down. I ran and locked myself in the bathroom until my husband came home from work, and then made an appointment to see a doctor as soon as possible. That was 17 years ago. I now carry the diagnoses of bipolar type 1 disorder, intermittent explosive disorder, and C-PTSD (complex post-traumatic stress disorder).

Now the reason for my post. I've been married for 23 years. I married by best friend, the love of my life, when I was 17 years old. We weathered his 20-year career in the Army. We raised two boys to adulthood. He was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis back in 2012, I believe. When he retired, we were fortunate enough to have made some very smart financial decisions and moved to the beach, where neither of us have to work. Our life was basically perfect until these past 3 weeks.

I've always been very highly sexual, always had a little bit of hypersexuality that was my norm. Of course, my husband never minded and it's never been a problem. In all those 23 years, I have never cheated on my husband. We've actually been the poster couple for perfect relationships. But, the past 3 weeks has been the first time I've ever had a manic episode that included hypersexuality that was out of my control. I had no coping mechanisms. I had no idea how to control it. I started chatting with a guy on Words with Friends which led to chatting on email, which led to very graphic sexual role playing and graphic photos. My husband found my emails once. I swore it would never happen again. Me and the guy started emailing again right away. I was absolutely addicted to the attention. I couldn't stop. It wasn't 2 or 3 days until my husband found the emails again. One again, I swore it would never happen.

My husband worships me. He always has. And to me, he is my superman. I love him more than the word "love" can define. I could not even explain to him what was going on, except to say that I felt like I was addicted to the attention, that was able to compartmentalize my love for him with my need for attention from this stranger. Unbelievably, he forgave me a second time. I actually did stop emailing him the second time. For about a week. And then I couldn't stand it anymore. I emailed him again. Just as my husband I started rebuilding our relationship. Sure enough, 2 days later, my husband found those emails. I had no excuse. I felt like trash. Complete trash. My husband is a 20-year Army vet. He’s been to combat 3 or 4 times. He’s an amazing father. He loves me more than life itself, and I did this to him. He’s read all the emails. He’s seen the pictures. This third time just happened last night. He wants to leave me. We can’t divorce right away because we want to sell our second house and pay off our debt first, but he does want a divorce. I am completely dependent on him because of my bipolar disorder and the symptoms I have. I have severe social anxiety and agoraphobia. It’s getting to the point where I can’t drive. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is I love him more than I any words can articulate. I’ve known him since I was 16 years old. He is my best friend. He is my everything. My body, my heart, and my soul needs him. This other guy was a disgusting piece of ****. He’s admittedly cheated on his wife several times. I didn’t care, as long as I got the attention I wanted. That’s how far down the rabbit hole I got. But I have ripped my husband’s heart out, spit on it, and threw it in the trash. And I don’t know how to fix this, or if it can be fixed. I know this third time just happened last night, just it’s a bit soon to try to fix anything. He needs space. He needs time. I was his world. He loved me so very much. I am humiliated. I am humiliated for him. I know I never had sex with the other guy, but, as my husband put it, I shared my soul with him. I gave him pictures of myself naked. Not only that, but some of those pictures were pictures I had taken for my husband while he was deployed.
My husband understands my illness. He’s been married to be since I was 17. But asking him to believe that part of what happened is due to my illness is going to be a hard pill for him to swallow. I realize, without question, that regardless whether it’s due to my illness, that I still am required to take responsibility for my actions. But I’ve been reading all these articles online about people with hypersexuality as part of their manic episodes, how they acted on it, how they got their husband to learn about it, and how they saved their marriage. And I want my happy ending. I want my husband to believe that I am not a terrible person, that this is something I would never do if my brain weren’t miswired. That there is no reality in any alternative universe in which I would purposefully hurt him like the piece of trash I behaved like. That I respect him more than anyone I know. That I cherish our marriage, that I cherish HIM more than I can possibly explain.
But what man in their right mind would give a woman a fourth chance in the span of 3 weeks? How do I save an almost perfect 23-year marriage? How to I keep my husband, nurture him, cherish him, and have him look at me again the way he used to look at me when he loved me, was proud of me, was proud to have me as his wife, the way he smiled at me, winked at me as I walked across a room, scooped me up and sat me on his lap to kiss my neck. How do I get that back?