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PREFACE

"I just don't believe that we are capable of knowing the full nature of our acts when we are in the extremes of our disorder. It's not imagining things...it's more FAILING to understand the consequences of our acts that characterizes the bipolar."

A psychiatrist diagnosed me as having Bipolar Disorder on July 6 of this year. I have benefited greatly from daily drug therapy (200 mg Zoloft, 500 mg Depakote). By the beginning of August I felt more stable than at any time since 1980. I was not pleased about having such a serious disease, but I thought that my wife would change her mind about divorcing me as soon as she found out that it was my disease talking throughout our marriage and that I was on the road to recovery. However, to my surprise and my family’s surprise, she said that it made no difference to her because I had 9 years to get help and didn’t do so. I sent her material on Bipolar Disorder, hoping that a better understanding of the disease would change her mind. Her attorney told my attorney that "she can write the book on Bipolar Disorder" and didn’t need any more lectures on it, and that she still wanted a divorce and half of the house.

SELF-ANALYSIS

Bipolar Disorder unknowingly victimized me from 1980 until July 6 of this year when I began drug therapy (although I refer to my disease in this paper as though I had been aware of it over the past 19 years). According to my psychiatrist, it is not unusual for the disease to adversely affect one side of a bipolar victim's life but not the other. Such was the case with me, at least for a time. Although my disease devastated my personal life throughout this entire period of time, it did not have any negative effect on the professional and business side of my life until 1996.

Throughout most of the 1980s my Bipolar Disorder symptoms were masked by injuries caused by a near-fatal auto accident on December 22 1979. I made many trips to doctors and hospitals, but the diagnosis was always the same - post-accident trauma - and I was treated for my injuries but not for my disease. Consequently, I became accustomed to Bipolar Disorder as a lifestyle and learned to deal with its symptoms because my disease was not diagnosed. Occasional suicidal tendencies, crying jags and mood swings were commonplace and I considered them to be normal, based on what I had been through.

I frequently drank more than I could handle (having lost my spleen and part of my liver as a result of my auto accident) and engaged in reckless sexual relationships in an effort to numb my pain and balance out my mood swings. On one occasion, I destroyed a marriage when I insisted on having sex with my married lover in her house while her husband and children were downstairs. My "romances" were equally as reckless during this period of time. I went through six live-in relationships in 9 years, three of which began as marriages and ended in annulments. During one of my live-in relationships my girlfriend took everything I owned out of my condominium while I was away. I was devastated, and vowed that I would never again allow myself to be ripped off by any significant other.

During the late 1980s my disease continued on as a lifestyle. I was now experiencing unmasked bipolar episodes since the trauma from my auto accident was over, but I didn't know that it was over. I continued to accept my aberrant behavior and pain as after effects from my auto accident rather than seeing it for what it really was. I also accepted the fact that I would just have to deal with it for the rest of my life or until it went away by itself. By the time I met my future wife during 1989 I was already working around the disease by consuming myself in my profession and physical fitness. I had become a workaholic and physical fitness bigot.

Although my personal life was being destroyed during the 1980s, my professional and business life was another matter. My auto accident injuries kept me from working from 1980 through 1982. However, I consumed myself in my profession starting in 1983. During that year I turned a failing startup company around by negotiating a long-term contract on the company’s behalf with IBM’s Federal Systems Division. From 1984 through 1987 I project managed 250 Xerox personnel in four different states and a $400 million dollar annual budget, and negotiated a major computer security contract with the Federal Government. From 1987 into the summer of 1989 I worked as a self-employed contractor, and acquired numerous sub-contracts with primary Government contractors. During 1988 I graduated from Stanford University’s post-MBA Certificate Program in Finance. During 1989 I studied for and passed all tests for the Becker CPA Review in California.

I was married on August 6 1990. Unknown to me, my wife worked with Bipolar Disorder victims prior to meeting me. Nevertheless, throughout our marriage she kept her understanding of the disease a secret from me, and kept my disease a secret from family and friends. Each of my episodes pretty much followed the same script: tirade, guilt, apology, sadness and euphoria. In turn, her responses were pretty much always the same and facilitated my aberrant behaviors. She would tell me that I was under too much stress and that she and my stepdaughter would do everything they could to help lower my stress. I believed her because "everyday stress" for me meant dealing with my episodes, and my need to be a workaholic as a means of trying to neutralize the effects of my disease. The two of them took on the simplest of chores for me, chores that most people would do for themselves. The more they did for me the more of a workaholic I became, and my stress (i.e., my disease) continued to worsen. I repeatedly hurt them as my disease worsened, and I became totally dependent on them and clung to them as lifelines. I withdrew from the outside world and then I withdrew from them. From around April 1997 through June of this year I thought about the lure of suicide practically every day and casually discussed it with my wife. I planned for it and then attempted it twice during 1999.

As was the case during the 1980s, my disease did not have any negative effect on my professional and business life from 1990 through 1995. I was considered a shrewd and astute businessman by my wife and by those who worked with me.

Before marrying my wife, she and her daughter were close to being penniless while I had a substantial amount of money invested and in the bank. Consequently, I insisted on either a prenuptial or postnuptial agreement (depending on time constraints) as a prerequisite to our getting married. Further, I did not have a will prepared at this time because I was still getting to know my new wife. From August 1990 through March 1991 I entered into multiple business contracts in Chicago and made more money during this time than at any time during my career. During April 1991 I negotiated a rental contract that allowed my family and me to vacation in Wisconsin during the summer in a luxury apartment for half the monthly rate. During November 1991 I accepted employment based on a written job description that my manager ignored after I came onboard. I used the opportunity to learn an entire new technology during 1992, and then leveraged my new knowledge into a director-level position with a Fortune 100 company from 1993 through 1995. As a director, I managed a staff of 35 engineering, marketing and sales personnel and a $40 million dollar annual budget, and personally accounted for 75% of all contract negotiations and closings for my department during 1994. Further, I acquired several lucrative spin-off contracts during the same period of time. During September 1991 my wife and I executed our previously agreed upon postnuptial contract. It was prepared in such a way that, if I preceded her in death for any reason, she would not get any of my postnuptial money. Around the end of September 1992 I purchased a condominium as a sole owner for $53,400. The purchase was financed with a mortgage and a $4,000 down payment using my postnuptial money. My wife was miffed that I would not put the condo into joint ownership even though she had to co-sign the mortgage papers in order for the mortgage to be approved. I reminded her that we had a postnuptial agreement and the subject was dropped.

By 1996 my disease had rendered me incapable of relating to reality and seeking professional help for myself.

During January 1996, and for the first time in my career, I felt incapable of negotiating my own employment. I needed help in asking the right questions during my final interview with the employer who eventually fired me. At my request, my wife joined me in the interview and asked the majority of the questions, including details of my pending job offer. From February 1996 through January 1999 three different companies hired me, and none of them employed me for longer than four months. The first employer fired me. I resigned from the second employer because I felt threatened by the expertise of a junior level employee who reported to me. I resigned from the third employer after being (rightfully) accused of hostile acts in the office. While on each job I repeatedly cycled from having all the answers to the company’s problems to feeling totally incompetent. I faked illness, trips to other companies, house hunting and anything else I could think of to avoid having to be in the office. The official reason for my being fired by the first employer was that I refused to take direction and couldn’t get along with other employees. In reality, I frequently hallucinated and rapid cycled while on the job. At times I became so euphoric that I thought my boss and everyone who reported to him was reporting to me, and that I reported directly to the president. Consequently, I took it upon myself to negotiate and sign key contracts with strategic partners and customers without executive management’s permission, causing embarrassment and unnecessary expenses for the company. When I wasn’t playing boss, I would cycle down into nothingness and hide in my car so that I would not have to be around anyone.

Chronic pain had returned to my feet and legs, together with numerous other physical symptoms associated with Bipolar Disorder. This caused me to believe that I was still experiencing post-accident trauma. I frequently asked my wife what she thought I should do. She encouraged me to seek professional help, not for my disease, but for stress and the physical symptoms of my disease. In so doing, it never crossed my mind to bring up my suicidal tendencies, crying jags or wild mood swings to my doctors. My wife had frequently seen me display these symptoms and both of us had attributed them to everyday stress, so I told my doctors that I was under a lot of stress. I also (thought I) knew that these symptoms were accident-related and I told my doctors the same thing.

My pain was approaching the level of pain that I experienced during the 1980s, although somewhat different. The physical side wasn't as intense, but the psychological side was far worse and there was no relief. I felt restless, easily distracted by nothing at all, and out of focus practically all of the time. My workaholic tendencies caused me to fabricate imaginary tasks even while unemployed, making me feel initially important and then unfulfilled since most of these tasks were never completed. Daily activities became less and less interesting and pleasurable, causing me to become a risk-taker in order to fabricate interest and pleasure in something. I could not control my temper in my family life; I was like a time-bomb ready to go off at any moment.

I had become a victim of circumstances, in addition to being a victim of Bipolar Disorder. The thought of my being ill never crossed my mind. I considered myself to be a highly successful businessman who was just too stressed out because I worked so hard, and because I was still dealing with the fallout from my auto accident. I thought my aberrant behavior and wild mood swings were caused by too much stress, and my wife agreed. Throughout the 1980s, and again throughout the first five years of our marriage, I had seen numerous medical doctors but they couldn't help me. My wife and my stepdaughter were doing everything they could do to help lower my stress, but it just kept getting worse. It was like there was no way out.

Something was wrong and it couldn't be me, so I started blaming everyone else. I became obsessed with the idea that the world was rotten and everyone in it hated me, elevating my pain some more. I was no longer living, just existing, and my only reason for existing was to withdraw from the living. It was bizarre! The more I attempted to withdraw the more prolonged and intense my bipolar symptoms became. I became fascinated by death, the ultimate withdrawal, wondering what it would be like to see my deceased family and friends free of the world we live in. The lure of suicide kept growing stronger, as well as my plans for going through with it. My pain never let up.

My marriage eroded into divorce action and I could no longer hold a job. However, the most revealing illustration of the devastating effects of my disease involved my unrealistic spending habits in general, and my real estate transactions in particular.

By January 1996 the physical and emotional pain from my disease had consumed my life. I was out-of-touch and frequently delusional. All I wanted was for my pain to end. My wife said that buying a house would give us the home base needed to get rid of the stress that was causing all of my problems, and I more than agreed.

During March 1996, just prior to the purchase of the first house, my wife told me that we would have to jointly own the house because the bank would not approve our mortgage unless it was jointly owned. During March 1996 I used $40,000 of my postnuptial money (i.e., 10 times as much as my 1992 condominium down payment) as a down payment on the house. I used an additional $20,000 of my postnuptial money to buy a new car. We sold the house four weeks later when I was fired from my job. The quick sale cost me several thousand dollars of my postnuptial money. During February 1997 I used $80,000 of my postnuptial money (i.e., twice as much as my down payment on the previous house) to purchase a second house outright knowing that I was about to lose my job, and signed it into joint ownership. Once again I lost several thousand dollars of my postnuptial money due to the quick sale of the house. We sold it four weeks after moving in because I didn't like the neighborhood. During July 1997 I used $145,000 of my postnuptial money (i.e., $65,000 more than the cost of the second house) to purchase a third house outright, and signed it into joint ownership. Just prior to the purchase of the house, my attorney reminded me that I had a postnuptial agreement and warned me of the legal consequences of putting the house into joint ownership. I used an additional $15,000 of my postnuptial money to purchase new household furnishings. These combined expenditures represented one half of my life-savings. The purchase of the third house occurred while I was unemployed and with no employment prospects in sight.

As I look back, it is astonishing to me how Bipolar Disorder blinded me to reality. Long forgotten was having my condominium stripped clean by my girlfriend during the 1980s, my postnuptial agreement, and the fact that I had insisted on being the sole owner of the condominium that I purchased during September 1992. I never questioned the bank's (alleged) joint ownership requirement for the mortgage on our first house purchased during March 1996, even though my wife was unemployed at the time and that it was my money paying for the house. I bought the first house and a new car believing that my job was secure, and was fired four weeks later. I was devastated by the loss of thousands of dollars due to the quick sale of the first house, but it didn't stop me from quick-selling the second house at yet another loss. Prior to the purchases of the second and third houses, my wife offered to support me on her salary if I would sign each house into joint ownership, thereby eliminating mortgage payments and my need to work in the outside world, while also effectively ending a career that I loved. At my wife’s insistence, I had a will prepared during September 1997 declaring her as sole beneficiary to my entire estate, including the postnuptial money. Everything would be hers if I committed suicide. If I didn’t commit suicide, she would get at least half of the house if she left me because it was now in joint ownership.

None of these things mattered to me during the period of time that I was obsessed to buy a house. The only thing that really mattered was that I wanted a house and I wanted it right away. I believe the very thought of buying a house launched me into a euphoric high, and my family's apparent happiness over the idea drove me even higher. Eventually I would come crashing down, but while I was up there my stress and pain seemed to subside. During these times I was almost happy in an agitated sort of way. I had bought three houses and sold two of them in less than 16 months. It felt risky, and "risky" felt exhilarating. Finance was not an issue. All I had to do to make things happen was to call my stockbroker and tell him I wanted whatever amount of money I needed. The more risks I took the less pain I had. It was like taking a drug and I needed more of it. I wouldn't allow myself to be slowed down by mundane chores such as dealing with realtors or paperwork unless I absolutely had to, so my wife did most of the legwork. Paperwork meant nothing to me, so I never bothered to read purchase or mortgage contracts, or any other documentation required to buy a house. Whenever I was asked to review it with whomever, I would politely nod my head as though I understood all of it when, in fact, I was paying no attention. My wife and our realtors prepared all of our paperwork before I saw it, and the paperwork always required her signature as joint owner. But it didn't matter. Signatures on the paperwork were just as meaningless to me as the paperwork itself. Signing anything meant only that it was signed, a purely physical fact that I now know had nothing to do with the reality of the transaction. It made no difference what was being signed unless it slowed down the process of buying a house. Since all the paperwork showed my wife as co-owner, joint ownership would obviously speed up the process of buying a house.

CHRONOLOGY

1980 - 1989

My Bipolar Disorder was not diagnosed during the 1980s because the symptoms were masked by injuries received from a near-fatal auto accident on December 22 1979. The combined effects of my disease and auto accident put me in so much pain that I frequently broke down in tears and contemplated suicide. I cycled up, down and up again without knowing or caring why. I made many trips to doctors and hospitals, but the diagnosis was always the same - post-accident trauma - and I was treated for my injuries but not for my disease. I frequently drank more than I could handle (having lost my spleen and part of my liver as a result of my auto accident) in an effort to numb my pain and balance out my mood swings. I recklessly had sex with numerous women (single and married). On one occasion, I destroyed a marriage when I insisted on having sex with my married lover in her house while her husband and children were downstairs. My "romances" were equally as reckless during this period of time. I went through six live-in relationships in 9 years, three of which began as marriages and ended in annulments. During one of my live-in relationships my girlfriend took everything I owned out of my condominium while I was away. I was devastated, and vowed that I would never again allow myself to be ripped off by any significant other.

Although my personal life was being destroyed during the 1980s, my professional and business life was another matter. My auto accident injuries kept me from working from 1980 through 1982. However, I consumed myself in my profession starting in 1983. During that year I turned a failing startup company around by negotiating a long-term contract on the company’s behalf with IBM’s Federal Systems Division. From 1984 through 1987 I project managed 250 Xerox personnel in four different states and a $400 million dollar annual budget, and negotiated a major computer security contract with the Federal Government. From 1987 into the summer of 1989 I worked as a self-employed contractor, and acquired numerous sub-contracts with primary Government contractors. During 1988 I graduated from Stanford University’s post-MBA Certificate Program in Finance. During 1989 I studied for and passed all tests for the Becker CPA Review in California.

During the second half of 1989 my pain subsided and I felt normal for the first time since my auto accident. It was during this time that I met my future wife and stepdaughter.

1990 - 1995

After a brief courtship, my future wife and stepdaughter moved in with me during April 1990. On August 6 1990 we were married and I assumed the role of stepfather to my wife’s daughter who was 8 years old at the time.

The pain from my auto accident pretty much disappeared, allowing for the symptoms of my disease to be clearly displayed for the first time. Each bipolar episode pretty much followed the same script: tirade, guilt, apology, sadness and euphoria. Ironically, each episode would start when I was feeling good. Really good. Better than good, actually. Nearly invincible. I would have limitless energy and could get along with hardly any sleep for days at a time. I would be full of exciting ideas and plans, and would barely express one thought before barreling into another. I would continue to cycle up to highs so euphoric that I would be ripe for a fall. Agitation would set in, and just about anything would and did set me off. I would launch into a tirade directed at my wife and/or stepdaughter even though they may have had nothing to do with setting me off. Guilt would follow when I "discovered" that I was hurting both of them and had been unable to stop myself. Tears would flow as I asked for forgiveness; and I was always forgiven. But being forgiven would not stop the sadness that came next. Actually it was more than that. The burden of life would feel too heavy, too daunting to face. Nothing could possibly cheer me up. I would face the "reality" that the people and things I loved the most could not give me pleasure. I would often wonder how I could feel so unbelievably good at some times and so horribly bad at others, and I would frequently contemplate suicide. Regardless of how bad my episodes were, both of them always tried to be helpful and supportive even when I berated them. They never complained.and would calm me down with a compassionate word, and a hug and a kiss. My wife would tell me that it was just stress setting me off and that both of them would do everything they could to help relieve my stress. In fact, telling me this actually facilitated my aberrant behaviors. Nevertheless, it felt as though she could make sense out of my chaos, and my pain would eventually subside to the point where I would start feeling good. Really good. Better than good, actually. Nearly invincible. Then the cycle would start all over again.

As was the case during the 1980s, my disease did not have any negative effect on my professional and business life from 1990 through 1995.

Before marrying my wife, she and her daughter were close to being penniless while I had a substantial amount of money invested and in the bank. Consequently, I insisted on either a prenuptial or postnuptial agreement (depending on time constraints) as a prerequisite to our getting married. Further, I did not have a will prepared at this time because I was still getting to know my new wife. From August 1990 through March 1991 I entered into multiple business contracts in Chicago and made more money during this time than at any time during my career. During April 1991 I negotiated a rental contract that allowed my family and me to vacation in Wisconsin during the summer in a luxury apartment for half the monthly rate. During November 1991 I accepted employment based on a written job description that my manager ignored after I came onboard. I used the opportunity to learn an entire new technology during 1992, and then leveraged my new knowledge into a director-level position with a Fortune 100 company from 1993 through 1995. As a director, I managed a staff of 35 engineering, marketing and sales personnel and a $40 million dollar annual budget, and personally accounted for 75% of all contract negotiations and closings for my department during 1994. Further, I acquired several lucrative spin-off contracts during the same period of time.During September 1991 my wife and I executed our previously agreed upon postnuptial contract. It was prepared in such a way that, if I preceded her in death for any reason, she would not get any of my postnuptial money. Around the end of September 1992 I purchased a condominium as a sole owner for $53,400. The purchase was financed with a mortgage and a $4,000 down payment using my postnuptial money. My wife was miffed that I would not put the condo into joint ownership even though she had to co-sign the mortgage papers in order for the mortgage to be approved. I reminded her that we had a postnuptial agreement and the subject was dropped.

January 1996 - December 1998

My disease worsened. Each bipolar episode seemed to take on a life of its own, over which I had no control. My mood swings were wilder and wider than ever. When I was euphoric I was downright giddy. But giddiness would oftentimes switch over to tirade without warning and without anything at all triggering it, and I would hurt my wife and stepdaughter some more. Everything in my life was crashing down around me except for their enduring love and faithfulness. It made no difference to them how bad my episodes were. They were always there for me, always supportive and never complaining. I didn’t want to hurt them, but I couldn’t stop it. And I didn’t understand why I couldn’t stop it. Then they would remind me that I was under too much stress and things would get better. They would do just about everything for me to relieve my stress, including the simplest of chores that most people would do for themselves. The more they did for me the more dependent I became. Having them do things for me was no longer an option; it was mandatory. If they did something for me and it wasn’t done exactly right (whatever that meant), it became another trigger for setting me off. I loved both of them so much for being so helpful.

My losing things triggered my bipolar episodes about as much as anything. It seemed as though I was always confused and disoriented about everything during this period of time, including where things were in the house. Whenever I lost something, I would go into a tirade about yet another thing being dropped into the "bottomless pit" or "black hole" of my life. My wife and stepdaughter rarely misplaced anything that belonged to me. Nevertheless, I would scream at them about losing "whatever" and order them to tear the house apart until "whatever" was found. If we didn’t find it within minutes, I would start screaming at God for taking out his vengeance on me. When it was found (as it always was), my wife would calm me down and remind me that I was under too much stress. Shortly thereafter I would become happy, happy, happy.

Around April 1997 a theme emerged and I couldn’t break out of it. I would find fault with my wife and stepdaughter whenever they tried to help me (which was just about all the time), and then somehow connect their "ineptitude" with the rotten world we lived in. We lived in a rotten world with rotten people and I wanted out! As always, guilt, apologies, sadness and euphoria would follow my tirades again and again, up, down and sideways. While euphoric, I would think how wonderful they were for putting up with me, and I told friends and family alike that I could never love anyone more than the two of them. I wanted to do nice things for them, to give them things that they didn’t have so that they would never leave me and be proud of me. Then I would hurt them, again and again, for not taking me seriously about our rotten world. Or I would hurt them for just being there. My overwhelming guilt would cycle me down to nothingness, to the point where self-esteem had no meaning to me. When I cycled back up to happiness, I would once again become obsessed with giving them things so that they wouldn’t leave me. The very thought of them leaving me would put me in a panic state, and down I would go. We lived in a rotten world with rotten people and I wanted out! Back and forth, back and forth.

I could not describe in words how much I loved my wife. I couldn’t trust myself to do anything anymore. But that was okay. I trusted her completely and without reservation. She was the only one who understood the stress in my life, and the only one who gave me hope that someday it would go away. She was always there every step of the way. She was my cover, my confidant and my soul-mate. She was me, so she would never hurt me.

During January 1996, and for the first time in my career, I felt incapable of negotiating my own employment. I needed help in asking the right questions during my final interview with the employer who eventually fired me. At my request, my wife joined me in the interview and asked the majority of the questions, including details of my pending job offer. From February 1996 through January 1999 three different companies hired me, and none of them employed me for longer than four months. The first employer fired me. I resigned from the second employer because I felt threatened by the expertise of a junior level employee who reported to me. I resigned from the third employer after being (rightfully) accused of hostile acts in the office. While on each job I repeatedly cycled from having all the answers to the company’s problems to feeling totally incompetent. I faked illness, trips to other companies, house hunting and anything else I could think of to avoid having to be in the office. The official reason for my being fired by the first employer was that I refused to take direction and couldn’t get along with other employees. In reality, I frequently hallucinated and rapid cycled while on the job. At times I became so euphoric that I thought my boss and everyone who reported to him was reporting to me and that I reported directly to the president. Consequently, I took it upon myself to negotiate and sign key contracts with strategic partners and customers without executive management’s permission, causing embarrassment and unnecessary expenses for the company. When I wasn’t playing boss, I would cycle down into nothingness and hide in my car so that I would not have to be around anyone. During this period of time my wife repeatedly encouraged me to expose my postnuptial money and to make risky and foolish real estate investments that I would then sign into joint ownership.

During March 1996 I used $70,000 of my postnuptial money to put a down payment of $40,000 on a $130,000 house and to buy a new car costing $30,000. I did so less than two months after starting new employment from which I would be fired two months later. Prior to purchasing the house, I discovered that I could not cope with the hassles of buying a house and I could not understand the paperwork. My wife took over. She suggested that I provide a down payment of $40,000 (10 times more than my condominium down payment) to minimize our monthly mortgage payments. Without thinking twice I got in touch with my stockbroker and arranged to have $40,000 of my postnuptial money freed up. She waited until the last minute to tell me that the house had to be jointly owned or our mortgage wouldn’t be approved. I agreed to joint ownership after she promised me that she would never leave me or go after my money. It felt as though our postnuptial agreement didn’t even exist.

My wife and I quickly sold the house after I was fired. We also sold most of our major belongings as a means of covering our losses on the sale of the house and to minimize our moving expenses back to our hometown. She found local employment with a good salary. Out of desperation I accepted out-of-state employment and lived in motels while my disease worsened. I became panic stricken that my wife and stepdaughter might leave me. The highlight of my day was to call my wife and tell her how much I loved her. I would frequently break down into tears over the phone and tell her that sometimes it felt as though suicide was my only way out. She said that I didn’t have to be working away from them and, in fact, didn’t have to work at all. All we (i.e., not I) had to do was purchase a house outright without a mortgage and the three of us could make it on just her salary. Euphoria set in. It was a wonderful idea and I fed on it for survival.

I purchased a second house in February 1997 without doing any homework on the property, without ever having seen it, and while knowing that I was about to lose my job. I used $80,000 of my postnuptial money (i.e., twice as much as the down payment on the first house) to purchase the house outright and signed it into joint ownership. Our postnuptial agreement never crossed my mind and my wife never brought it up. The "For Sale" sign went up four weeks after moving in because I didn’t like the neighborhood.

My wife said that I needed a more upscale and quiet neighborhood to relieve my stress, but that meant we (i.e., I) would have to spend more money on our next house and buy it outright so that we could live off just her salary. She found such a house with a one-acre lot for $145,000 ($65,000 more than our second house).

During July 1997 I used approximately $160,000 of my postnuptial money (i.e., twice as much as the cost of the second house) to purchase the house outright and to purchase new household furnishings for an additional $15,000. Without hesitation I put the house into joint ownership. At the time, the $160,000 was approximately one half of my life’s savings. These expenditures occurred while I was unemployed and with no prospective employment in sight.

Within a few days of purchasing the house, my attorney reminded me that my wife and I had signed a postnuptial agreement, and he advised me of the consequences of signing a joint ownership contract on the house. His advice was meaningless to me. How could I justify to her not signing it into joint ownership when I would be living off her paychecks for the rest of my life? It wouldn't be fair to her that I should be so greedy and self-serving. Besides, I had already signed our two previous houses into joint ownership. She might leave me if I even brought it up. Then where would my stress level be? Nevertheless, I followed my attorney’s advice and again made her promise me that she would never go after my money if we ever split up. Without hesitation she agreed.

On the day we closed and moved into the house, I had delusions or hallucinations (I'm not sure which) while jogging in the early morning. I had what felt like unlimited energy despite hardly sleeping the night before, and I wanted to run it off. I parked my car on my favorite side street next to the park and started to run. About 15 minutes later I had this horrible feeling that the police had posted a "No Parking" sign where I had parked since the last time I went jogging and I hadn’t noticed it (this was not the first time I had experienced the delusion of losing my car). I immediately started running back towards my car. As the spot where I parked my car came into view, my car was not there and I clearly saw the silhouette of a "No Parking" sign. I started sprinting and my heart felt like it was going to come through my chest. The police had towed my car! My mind spun away trying to figure out what I was going to do. My wallet was in my car, and (I imagined) that all of the money for buying the house was in my wallet. If the police found my wallet, they would take the money, I would not be able to buy the house, and I would lose my wife. I started yelling "Please God, please God, please God". As I got close enough to the sign to read it, I discovered that it was not a "No Parking" sign after all. It was then that I realized that I was on the wrong side street. I ran back one block. There was my car and there was no sign. I was shaking all over and broke into tears as though I had actually lost my car and the money for the house, and that my wife and stepdaughter had left me. A few minutes later I composed myself and became very happy. They deserved to live in a nice place, and now it was about to happen. I returned to home; and neither of them knew I had left.

My euphoria carried into our house-closing meeting. I could not keep quiet as to how happy I was about buying the house and the ideas and plans I had for it, although I was frustrated by my wife who sometimes could not understand what I was talking about and who seemed a little embarrassed. But that didn’t really matter. I was happy, happy, happy.

Within four hours after the closing, I struck my wife (the only time I have ever done so) because she killed a bug on a wall in our new house and made a smudge. I screamed at her about messing up the house, and then screamed at her some more about getting a divorce because I couldn’t stand my life anymore. I told her to divorce me because I was a worthless human being who couldn’t get along with anyone. During a time when I should have been ecstatic about our new house, I felt more than sad. The burden of my life felt too heavy and too daunting to face. I considered suicide because I felt so sorry about hitting my beloved wife. I cried that night and, as usual, she comforted me by saying that there was too much stress in my life but that it would pass. By evening I was as happy as I had been at the time of the closing.

At my wife’s insistence, I had a will prepared during September 1997 declaring her as sole beneficiary to my entire estate, including the postnuptial money. Everything would be hers if I committed suicide. If I didn’t, she would get at least half of the house if she left me because it was now in joint ownership.

January 1999 - July 1999

I frequently told my wife and stepdaughter that they would be better off without me. I withdrew from the outside world and clung to them more than ever. Then I withdrew from them as well. All I wanted was to be left alone. Most of my time was spent in the bedroom and in front of my computer. I couldn’t deal with meeting new people, opening the mail, returning merchandise to stores, paying the bills, inspecting bank statements, or complaining to our neighbors about their dog in our yard or their stereo being too loud. In fact, I couldn’t deal with anything at all that might lead to more stress. As always, my wife and stepdaughter absorbed these new chores and never complained. Towards the end of my marriage I could still handle sleeping, personal hygiene, mowing the lawn, and working on nonsensical computer software. But that was about it.

Without my family aware of it, I attempted suicide during February 1999 and again in May. The only reason that I didn’t go through with it was that nobody would be around to take care of our two dogs during the daytime if I were gone - a typical example of my state of mind.

On June 11 of this year my wife and stepdaughter unexpectedly left me during a time when they knew I was suicidal based on my behavior the night before. She invited six police officers into my house while I lay in bed during a severe bipolar episode. She told me that she was moving out because I had 9 years to seek professional help for myself and didn’t do so, and that the night before was the last straw. While sobbing, I told her that I didn't know I needed help for just stress and depression. I asked her if she had changed her mind about going after half of the house and household furnishings that I had paid for out of my life-savings. In front of the police, she said that she wanted none of my money or things, and that all she wanted was out of the marriage. (Later that day she repeated this statement to my mom and sister.) One of the police officers picked up on the fact that there was something seriously wrong with me and offered to let me use the telephone. I called my attorney who is also my best friend. He got me to agree to immediately drive to his office as soon as everybody else left. While in a suicidal state, I drove to my attorney’s office. He asked me what was wrong with my marriage. I said I thought I had a great marriage although I had been depressed and talking about suicide more than normal lately. He asked if I had told my wife that I wanted to commit suicide. I told him "all the time," but thought nothing of it because she said that it was nothing more than stress and that it would pass. I broke down and said that I was absolutely shocked that my wife was leaving me. He said, "You need help. If I make a telephone call to a therapist, will you go?" I agreed without hesitation. He placed the call and made an emergency appointment for me with a therapist. He asked me if I knew who my wife’s attorney was. I said that she wouldn’t tell me, but then his first name slipped out. My attorney quickly determined who her attorney was and called him. After a brief telephone discussion, my attorney told me that my wife must have hired her attorney three to five weeks earlier because divorce papers had already been prepared and a preliminary court date had already been set. He also told me that my wife had already provided her attorney with a copy of our postnuptial agreement.

About a week later my wife filed for divorce. Now she wants half of the house.

From January through the first week of June of this year my wife discouraged me from looking for employment (although I couldn't have worked anyway) after I told her that I was going to update my resume. She said that it would add stress to my life and that more stress was the last thing that I needed. After she left me, she told my family that I refused to look for work and couldn't hold a job (even though she had told me that we could live off her salary if we owned our house outright).

A psychiatrist diagnosed me as having Bipolar Disorder on July 6 of this year. I have benefited greatly from daily drug therapy (200 mg Zoloft, 500 mg Depakote). By the beginning of August I felt more stable than at any time since 1980. I was not pleased about having such a serious disease, but I thought that my wife would change her mind about divorcing me as soon as she found out that it was my disease talking throughout our marriage and that I was on the road to recovery. However, to my surprise and my family’s surprise, she said that it made no difference to her because I had 9 years to get help and didn’t do so. I sent her material on Bipolar Disorder, hoping that a better understanding of the disease would change her mind. Her attorney told my attorney that "she can write the book on Bipolar Disorder" and didn’t need any more lectures on it, and that she still wanted a divorce and half of the house.

My wife has shown no interest in trying to save our marriage despite being told that it was my disease talking while we were together (which of course she already knew). She has refused to communicate with me in any way, and has apparently refused to allow my stepdaughter to communicate with my family or me (my mom - her step grandmother - is devastated). My wife has also refused therapy for herself and my stepdaughter, and is unwilling to meet with my therapist (either individually or jointly) in order to clear the air and expedite my recovery. My stepdaughter acknowledged to me that she knew that her mom was breaking her word about not going after my money, and that she (my stepdaughter) was ashamed of it. While shopping at a Target store, I overheard my wife (in the aisle next to me) telling my stepdaughter what an idiot I was and that they would have it made in two months. Shortly thereafter, my attorney received a letter from her attorney that proposed a final settlement date approximately two months after the day I was shopping at Target.

August 1999 - Date

I found a hand-written plan for leaving me in my stepdaughter’s handwriting.

(To be continued)