Unquestionably my first marriage. As sometimes happens in one's late teens / early twenties, my wife developed mental illness (schizophrenia and borderline personality disorder). I had no clue how to deal with it. But at the time I was under the spell of the divorce taboo of my faith, so I stayed with that relationship for 15 years, roughly 14.5 years after it made any sense. Also, my faith advised me not to seek mental health standard-of-care for my wife, and when I eventually overcame that reluctance, my wife wasn't cooperative.

What precipitated the end was that I woke up one night to find her in a trance-like state standing over me holding a butcher knife. I decided maybe my two kids (then 9 and 14) needed at least one living and functional parent. So I got the hell out of there. Within a year or so my wife had become enough of a danger to herself that she entered the mental health system, where she remains to this day. I was a single parent for awhile (sole physical custody).

I guess I learned a number of things; many of them seem bleeding obvious now of course. Don't marry someone who is not mentally healthy (she clearly had issues when we met, if not as severe as they became; I was warned off by her shrink and largely because of my religious ideation, blew him off). Other miscellaneous lessons ... don't think that love conquers all. Don't think that god makes anything right. Don't have children in such a situation, for dog's sake. The list goes on.

I was astounded at how my subconscious seems to have systematically buried those years and the many varieties of pain they entailed. I honestly can't remember much detail about any of it even if I try. I remember the emotional content but very little of the specific events. It was basically what any spouse of a borderline personality experiences, constantly alternating periods of being idolized and demonized, loved and hated, treated with love and with rage. All extremes with no stable center, day after month after year. More importantly, it was a seriously weird childhood for my kids in many ways.

It's been the gift that keeps on giving. My son had his own mental health issues, which indirectly resulted in his death a couple of years ago. My daughter has done well, thankfully, and so far her children have been doing well, too. It could have been even worse than it was.

For all my stupidity, I lived a life of integrity, always true to the light I had at any given time ... so there are no regrets, just a boatload of disappointments. I suppose I could write a book about transcending such a clusterfuck ... probably would if I somehow could without reliving it all. As it is ... I work hard to stay focused on the present, and on the things that matter now. I have a loving wife, a devoted stepson, and one of my grandchildren will be visiting us for a few days later this year. The past just has to be written off as a sunk cost, and you have to move on in the present.

I learned to not get into any more relationships until we knew each other for a long period of time.

It was with my mother as she was manic and completely out of control - she tried to manage her condition by working as a welder which she had volunteered for in the war - and trying to knock herself out and get tired but nothing really worked she tried to get friends but people were overwhelmed by her too muchness and quickly disappeared. I left home at 15 to escape all the madness and I ma not concerned about any of my part in it at all.

I can an honestly say I've never been in a horrific relationship. I was with people with whom I should not have been and a few bad experiences, but I don't feel like I ever suffered. My poor choices were a result of low self esteem. A long time ago.

I dated a guy who was Mr. 30 seconds...he told me I was a lousy lay and it was my fault that he did not last longer (hello, he put it in and was done!)...I learned never to doubt myself ever again...I am a great lay...so there, Mr. 30 seconds...ESAD!

The one that's in the process of ending.

I'm a Disney guy, grew up on a generation of characters that told me love was enough.

I still believe that, if you truly care for someone you can work through almost anything.

But that's only if both people care the same amount.

I married the preacher's daughter. Not any preacher, but a Pentecostal one at that. We were high school sweethearts. I had love and thought that would be enough. I even managed to make the preacher like me.

We broke up on and off multiple times when we dated. Religious differences, her parents, commitment issues, being young, etc.

But we made it through that. Got married. Thought I was past that stage. Eight years later, turns out I wasn't. Why?

She said we were too different. We were never really compatible, liked different things, believed different things. Had different goals, different ambitions. Mostly, and maybe because of all these things, she didn't love me anymore.

I don't write this for pity. It took a while, but I'm going to survive. What I learned, though, was that while love is enough, it has to rest on a foundation of other things first.

Or maybe I know nothing at all. Who knows?