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When Marc Bruneteau at the age of 25 told his future wife Charlotte that a “normal life” would not satisfy him, he had no idea that the future would prove him right in a very strange way.
He had all the makings of the ideal husband: dynamic, warm-hearted, determined, steeped in ideals that were rooted in his Christian faith and his patriotism. Only a close friend would know the deeper problems of this young infantry officer, who was brought up to worship the army and to sacrifice himself for “a noble cause.” As an adolescent, he was affected by the weakening and subsequent break up of his parents’ relationship, following his father’s addiction to alcohol in his fifties.
Was the alcohol abuse a result of his father’s taste for partying, or an escape? Either way, it had an effect on young Marc. As he started to drink himself, those around him thought: Isn’t that normal for many young people? Charlotte wasn’t initially worried either. She had a thirst for the absolute like her fiancé, and she strengthened his faith and helped lead him through marriage prep.
Ticking time bombs
They had not been engaged long when Marc was sent to Afghanistan for his first mission. He spent six months at the head of 40 soldiers in a country on the brink of chaos; fear of death was a daily part of his experience.
He was another man, traumatized by what he had seen and experienced over there, when he and Charlotte celebrated their wedding on May 27, 2006 — but she was as unaware of it as he was. The shocks to his mind and soul grew at a snail’s pace, hidden to both of them.
As a result, the couple’s first years of marriage were peaceful. They were expecting their second child, and life was good to them. But the respite was short-lived: in 2008, Marc’s brother, the father of two little girls, took his own life. It was a shock for Marc, and another wound in his heart. More than ever, he turned to alcohol…
Starting to recognize the problem
It was in 2012, after he left the army and went to work for Michelin, that he first sought psychiatric help to regulate his alcohol use. Nonetheless, life went on, with geographical transfers, the birth of children, and new professional responsibilities. Marc embraced it all with passion, even in an excessive way that sucked up all his energy.
“I was already bipolar,” he frankly admits. “But I refused to admit it, even though my psychiatrist had warned me about it. On the other hand, I was clear about my lack of temperance when it came to alcohol — and on my road to recovery, my wife and Heaven were important allies.” By divine grace and “chance,” he met a deeply religious alcoholic to help guide him. Charlotte met with Marc’s guide and unfailingly supported her husband in his fight for abstinence. Both knew that the road ahead would be very long, however.
Bipolarity, a springboard to humility
After five months of sobriety, it became clear that alcoholism was just the tip of the iceberg. Marc was suffering from serious bipolar disorder, characterized by alternating depressive and manic phases.
“For the first time in my life, I rebelled,” admits Marc. “I’d had the humility to seek treatment, to tell my boss the truth, to join a Catholic alcoholics’ sharing group, thanks to which I’d realized how small I really was… and that wasn’t enough? I didn’t dare rebel against God, so I took Saint Joseph as my target: I turned my back on him for two years!”
It would be a long time before he would admit his illness, take it seriously and agree to seek treatment. These were trying years for his wife and six children, who had to endure his mood swings and violent verbal outbursts following relapses in his sobriety.
“The hardest part,” he says, ”was giving up my own willpower to follow my brother-in-law’s advice, which I didn’t think was relevant: to enter a psychiatric hospital. It was another step towards humility. I wasn’t humble enough yet…” It took five hospitalizations (between 2020 and 2022) for him to overcome his emotional rollercoaster.
Finding stability
“I’ve now reached a state of stability to which all bipolar sufferers aspire,” Marc says. “This means accepting the side effects of treatment: changes in intellectual capacity and memory, a certain slowness in the execution of tasks, a renunciation of all adrenalin …” The result is that he now works only part-time at Michelin — “a painful choice” since he finds his job fulfilling. He and his wife have worked together to come up with a rigorous plan to cope with his illness on a daily basis, as well as in times of crisis. It includes healthy lifestyle choices, numbers to contact when warning signs appear, etc.
His wife and his faith anchor him
What tools did he use to achieve this? “The love of my wife,” he says. “For three years, before I crossed the threshold of the psychiatric clinic, I made her life hell. She no longer had any feelings for me, but clung to our sacrament of marriage, assuring me she would never let me give up … so I felt like trying everything to live up to the standards of this upright woman I’m so crazy about!”
The illness, Charlotte assures us, “taught us to communicate serenely, often, and in depth,” including with their children.
Marc goes on to talk about his faith: the graces received in the Eucharist, or during pilgrimages for parents (which dear to his heart), and the example of St. Thérèse: “Following her, I tell the Lord that ‘I’m willing to undergo trial and suffering just for today.’ This illness is my path to holiness.”
And today we celebrate...