I had the letter printed and ready. I wasn’t angry anymore—once you make a decision, a sense of calm follows.
The letter was the result of a heated argument over the garage door being left ajar. My husband had a fixation on keeping doors shut, much like I did with stray socks on the floor. Sure, it was a cool April day, and leaving the door open wouldn’t have resulted in a soaring electric bill. Most likely, his mother had unintentionally left it slightly open after taking out the trash. But he was furious, shouting at both her and me, stomping around the kitchen, nostrils flaring as he slammed cabinets. “Don’t argue with me!” he barked, treating us like children. “Just keep the damn door closed!”
In that moment of frustration, I called him insane.
This explosive confrontation was just the latest in a series of similar disputes—arguments that always ended with me having to “wait for him to cool off” before we could discuss things calmly. After he calmed down, he would often concede that he had overreacted. “You have an anger issue,” I would tell him. “This isn’t normal.”
“I don’t have an anger problem,” he’d reply. “I’m happy. I’m not angry.”
We went back and forth like this for months, even years. The thought of leaving him alone with our children worried me. I could sense when he was getting agitated and knew when to let things slide. The kids, however, couldn’t read the mood as well. I feared what might happen if he ever lost control. He hadn’t yet, but I dreaded the day it could occur.
How had I ended up marrying such an irritable and unpredictable person? How could I have chosen him to be the father of my children? I felt foolish for overlooking these traits before our marriage and for allowing that kind of rage to invade our lives.
The day he shouted about the garage door was a turning point for me—the day I decided I was done. I wrote him an ultimatum: either acknowledge you have an anger problem and seek help, or I will leave.
That morning, I planned to give him the letter. Just as I was about to, he sent me a text message. He had recently visited the doctor for the first time in years and had undergone blood tests. The message read: “I have diabetes.”
Suddenly, my letter felt irrelevant.
My husband didn’t match the stereotype I had of diabetes patients—he was only 39, fit, and not overweight. However, nearly everyone on his mother’s side of the family had type II diabetes.
Curious, I looked up the symptoms. To my surprise, he exhibited many of them—symptoms that had crept up on us so gradually we hadn’t recognized them.
Symptoms of Diabetes
- Excessive thirst: On road trips, his constant need for drinks drove me crazy. We’d have to stop every twenty minutes for him to use the restroom, extending our travel time significantly. At restaurants, he would consume five soft drinks during a meal. I joked about it, but secretly found it distasteful.
- Intense hunger: When he got hungry, it was an all-consuming urgency. It wasn’t that he was constantly hungry, but when he was, it was a crisis. In our family, we joked that “Daddy needed to eat” because he was turning “hangry.” I privately thought his inability to control his hunger was embarrassing.
- Unexplained weight loss: I often wondered how he lost weight despite eating so much and exercising less than I did. It seemed unfair that men could shed pounds so easily!
- Fatigue: He could doze off at any time, but isn’t that common for parents with young kids? I dismissed it as just being tired from our hectic lives.
While I committed to supporting him, I was also frustrated that I now had to deal with his illness. On top of his usual anger, this was just another issue to handle? Nevertheless, I forced a sympathetic smile, hugged him, and cried with him. It could have been worse; it wasn’t cancer. I researched diabetes-friendly diets, purchased books on Amazon, and cleared our pantry of unhealthy foods, increasing our vegetable intake.
He began taking medication, improving his diet, and exercising more. After a few weeks, something remarkable occurred: the man I fell in love with began to resurface.
I hadn’t even realized he had been slipping away, as diabetes had gradually altered his demeanor.
The true essence of my husband is not quick-tempered; he is patient, diplomatic, kind, generous, and hardworking. He possesses a playful spirit and the knack for telling hilarious stories. This is the man I married, and somehow, I had missed the signs of his disappearance.
I share our story because I know others may be facing a similar situation. While “dramatic mood swings” aren’t typically associated with type II diabetes, they should be. For my husband, these changes were the most disruptive symptom, almost tearing our family apart.
It’s not just diabetes; various disorders can lead to significant mood and behavioral changes, such as multiple sclerosis and brain tumors. The human body is an intricate system, and any chemical alterations can affect mental health. Many of us are familiar with the concept of “hanger”—that irritable feeling we experience when our blood sugar dips. For my husband, the sugars from his food remained trapped in his bloodstream, failing to nourish his brain. He was effectively “hangry” for three years straight. Diabetes transformed him from a calm, rational individual into someone who was often tired, irritable, and angry.
So, if your partner is behaving in a way that makes you question how you could have ever married them, encourage them to see a doctor. They may be dealing with an underlying health issue, and you might just be on the verge of reconnecting with the person you love.
For more information on home insemination, check out this comprehensive guide from American Pregnancy. If you’re interested in fertility options, don’t forget to explore this fertility booster for men which can provide valuable support. And if you’re looking for a home insemination kit, check out this post for more details.
In summary, if your partner’s behavior has you questioning your relationship, consider that there might be health factors at play. Seeking medical advice could open the door to understanding and healing.
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