“Getting Michael to go to treatment was a full-time project for me,” Angelika says, “And when he finally went, I thought that would be it—problem solved! But it was more complicated than that.”
Michael is Angelika’s husband, whose struggle with bipolar disorder had begun years earlier, his depression and hypomania coming in waves that left him struggling to stay afloat. “I knew something was very wrong pretty early in our relationship, but I loved him and I made it my mission to get him help,” Angelika tells me. Michael, however, was slower to come around. When he was depressed, he did not have the energy or motivation to see his psychiatrist. When he was hypomanic, things were great and putting an end to that intoxicating energy was the last thing he wanted; elation seemed like the hard-won reward after months of sorrowful lows. But as his mood episodes grew in intensity and frequency, his bipolar disorder threatened to derail his career and permanently damage his relationship with his family and friends. By the time even he could see that treatment was the only way forward, his needs had outgrown the outpatient care he’d initially refused.
But getting her husband residential help wasn’t the end of the road. “When he agreed to go to treatment, I felt like I had won a war,” Angelika remembers. “I was ecstatic. In my focus to get him into care, I never considered that treatment wasn’t an end, but the beginning of new and unfamiliar challenges—both during treatment and when he came home. There were relapses. There was anger. There was resentment. I needed to learn how to bring my expectations in line with reality, how to heal myself, and we needed to learn how to communicate and cope together.”


