Our love was great and it was strong, but our marriage was not perfect. We didn't argue about things like money. I didn't nag him about picking up or helping around the house (I didn't have to). I didn't get upset that he spent too much time watching tv, or being on the Internet, or anything else for that matter (he didn't). Those things seem so trivial to me. Our cloud was much darker than that. My husband suffered from depression.
I found out very early on in the relationship that he suffered from depression. He did not keep that hidden from me. I was a psychology major and engorged myself with learning about depression as much as I possibly could. At the time that I met him, he was not on any medication. He had his ups and downs, but he was very high functioning. He got up every morning and went to either class or work. We were very active and he had energy for me and for himself. I supported his decision to not be medicated because he seemed able to handle his lows when they came and his depression did not seem to disrupt his life in day to day activities. When his lows came, he did share with me his feelings of despair and worthlessness. From my readings and knowledge, I started journals with him. I thought that if the good times were documented then they would serve a strong purpose in reading them during the difficult times to remind him of his worth and of the happiness he had experienced and could feel. I also recognized things that helped such as walks and exercise. Spending time at the gym or with the dogs was helpful. I would just be there with a smile, a hug, and a cup of tea to show him my love.
At the time, I was aware of how his depression affected his behaviors. More particularly, in his behaviors toward me. He only shared the tip of the iceberg with me and so I was left with understanding very little about what was really going on inside of him. However, he wanted me and assumed that I should know what to do for him to help him through his dark times. Other than what I shared above, I didn't know what to do besides suggest that he go see a professional who would know what to do. That only triggered frustration and disappointment from him towards me. However, the dark days in the beginning came and went. And all of the days in between, which was the majority of our reality, were wonderful. So, I began to rationalize his behaviors and excused them. I did this for no other reason than that I truly loved him and that I truly believed in his love for me. I didn't realize that my actions were only enabling his.
Looking back now, I can see how that with time, what was once something that I was fully aware of slowly turned into a routine, a habit that lost its conscious thought. When his depression came, we got caught up in the cycle of our actions and became trapped within. He was becoming more frustrated, disappointed, and angry. I retreated and lost my voice. All of my attempts to help didn't seem to make a difference. I didn't know what else to do. I also didn't know and I don't think he was completely aware of the progression that his illness had taken. It was a slow progression, but I feel as if it hit a certain point where it really started to take a toll on my husband's mentality. His own cycles of depression were coming more frequently. They started to take on a life of their own and they started to take away more and more of our happiness. Our cloud was getting bigger and darker.
I call my husband's sickness "our cloud" because it was. It loomed over my head too and it did effect my mentality as well. I remember feeling tired all the time. I lacked energy. I felt like I was just going through the motions. My husband was so in tuned with my thoughts and feelings. He picked up on this even before I did. I believe he felt as if he were the cause of this change in me and that caused him to bottle up even more. He shared so little of what he called his demons and the more he kept in, the more they were beating him up inside.
Love is a wonderful thing. Truly. It can also get in the way. I think that our love did just that. We loved each other so much that we didn't want to hurt the other. Instead of talking and sharing our thoughts, we kept them in. Over time, our communication broke down. Even with the best of intentions that basic core in a relationship could not withstand. Other parts began to break down too. It was as if this world of ours that once was a wonderful and happy marriage was spinning around and around breaking apart as we stood in the middle of this cycle that we could not break free of.
In the fall of 2010, other people began to see the changes. These changes were mainly in him and in us. I didn't start to see these changes until December. That was the month I felt that I finally woke up. I had been living in a world of both ignorance and denial. We tried to talk. We tried to put an action into place to save our marriage. We wanted to be with only one another. We wanted to find "us" again. We wanted to be happy.
Two months later I suggested that we separate. I did not want to separate as a prelude to a divorce. I wanted to separate because I felt that was the only way to stop the ugly cycle that we were stuck in. It was unconventional. It was inconvenient. It was financially burdensome. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that we both get healthy. We needed to get healthy for us as individuals, for us as a couple, for us as parents to a beautiful little boy. I felt that our love was strong enough to endure this so that we could fix everything else. We needed to rebuild our foundation and we even began couple's therapy to help us with that process.
My husband didn't believe. He couldn't believe in me or in us because he didn't believe in himself. He began to unravel. He was seeing a doctor of his own at this point and was now on medication. He was still strong enough to continue to function at a high level and to put on a facade to hide what was really going on inside from most people, including me at times. But at that time, I was confused. I felt like I was living in a surreal world. I couldn't comprehend what was really going on.
I found out very early on in the relationship that he suffered from depression. He did not keep that hidden from me. I was a psychology major and engorged myself with learning about depression as much as I possibly could. At the time that I met him, he was not on any medication. He had his ups and downs, but he was very high functioning. He got up every morning and went to either class or work. We were very active and he had energy for me and for himself. I supported his decision to not be medicated because he seemed able to handle his lows when they came and his depression did not seem to disrupt his life in day to day activities. When his lows came, he did share with me his feelings of despair and worthlessness. From my readings and knowledge, I started journals with him. I thought that if the good times were documented then they would serve a strong purpose in reading them during the difficult times to remind him of his worth and of the happiness he had experienced and could feel. I also recognized things that helped such as walks and exercise. Spending time at the gym or with the dogs was helpful. I would just be there with a smile, a hug, and a cup of tea to show him my love.
At the time, I was aware of how his depression affected his behaviors. More particularly, in his behaviors toward me. He only shared the tip of the iceberg with me and so I was left with understanding very little about what was really going on inside of him. However, he wanted me and assumed that I should know what to do for him to help him through his dark times. Other than what I shared above, I didn't know what to do besides suggest that he go see a professional who would know what to do. That only triggered frustration and disappointment from him towards me. However, the dark days in the beginning came and went. And all of the days in between, which was the majority of our reality, were wonderful. So, I began to rationalize his behaviors and excused them. I did this for no other reason than that I truly loved him and that I truly believed in his love for me. I didn't realize that my actions were only enabling his.
Looking back now, I can see how that with time, what was once something that I was fully aware of slowly turned into a routine, a habit that lost its conscious thought. When his depression came, we got caught up in the cycle of our actions and became trapped within. He was becoming more frustrated, disappointed, and angry. I retreated and lost my voice. All of my attempts to help didn't seem to make a difference. I didn't know what else to do. I also didn't know and I don't think he was completely aware of the progression that his illness had taken. It was a slow progression, but I feel as if it hit a certain point where it really started to take a toll on my husband's mentality. His own cycles of depression were coming more frequently. They started to take on a life of their own and they started to take away more and more of our happiness. Our cloud was getting bigger and darker.
I call my husband's sickness "our cloud" because it was. It loomed over my head too and it did effect my mentality as well. I remember feeling tired all the time. I lacked energy. I felt like I was just going through the motions. My husband was so in tuned with my thoughts and feelings. He picked up on this even before I did. I believe he felt as if he were the cause of this change in me and that caused him to bottle up even more. He shared so little of what he called his demons and the more he kept in, the more they were beating him up inside.
Love is a wonderful thing. Truly. It can also get in the way. I think that our love did just that. We loved each other so much that we didn't want to hurt the other. Instead of talking and sharing our thoughts, we kept them in. Over time, our communication broke down. Even with the best of intentions that basic core in a relationship could not withstand. Other parts began to break down too. It was as if this world of ours that once was a wonderful and happy marriage was spinning around and around breaking apart as we stood in the middle of this cycle that we could not break free of.
In the fall of 2010, other people began to see the changes. These changes were mainly in him and in us. I didn't start to see these changes until December. That was the month I felt that I finally woke up. I had been living in a world of both ignorance and denial. We tried to talk. We tried to put an action into place to save our marriage. We wanted to be with only one another. We wanted to find "us" again. We wanted to be happy.
Two months later I suggested that we separate. I did not want to separate as a prelude to a divorce. I wanted to separate because I felt that was the only way to stop the ugly cycle that we were stuck in. It was unconventional. It was inconvenient. It was financially burdensome. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that we both get healthy. We needed to get healthy for us as individuals, for us as a couple, for us as parents to a beautiful little boy. I felt that our love was strong enough to endure this so that we could fix everything else. We needed to rebuild our foundation and we even began couple's therapy to help us with that process.
My husband didn't believe. He couldn't believe in me or in us because he didn't believe in himself. He began to unravel. He was seeing a doctor of his own at this point and was now on medication. He was still strong enough to continue to function at a high level and to put on a facade to hide what was really going on inside from most people, including me at times. But at that time, I was confused. I felt like I was living in a surreal world. I couldn't comprehend what was really going on.
No comments:
Post a Comment