I just remember being so confused.
Why was it that I could be having a lovely day, then Husband would come home and ruin it? How did he manage to suck the fun and enjoyment out of everything?
How could I look forward all day to him walking through the front door, home from work, only to want to be pushing him back out only a few hours later?
At first, I really thought it was my fault.
Maybe when he'd only respond with grunts or one-syllable answers, it was because I was annoying him; maybe his snarky attitude and wanting to rain on my parade was because I was being too much in his face and he needed time.
After a few years of this, I just couldn't take it anymore.
He'd walk around like his dog died, he had no patience for anything and while he was never aggressive or outright mean, he had a very distinct way of putting up walls, shutting me out, not talking, not sharing not even making eye contact.
Living with him was miserable. He literally, actually made me miserable when he was like this.
It'd last a week or so, then it'd get a little better, only to start back on the same path again.
The stupid thing is, it wasn't me that figured out he was depressed. I think at some point I asked him: "Are you depressed?" Husband responded: "No", and I left it.
It was my mother that finally connected everything.
I had phoned her crying, I had never done that before but I was at the complete end of my rope. My husband was become a room-mate; a room-mate that I was wondering if I even wanted anymore!
My mother answered the phone happily enough, and asked the usual "How are you doing?"
Before I could really even respond I started to cry.
"I don't know what's wrong with him! Everything is awful to him, he's never happy, he never wants to do anything! I keep trying to make him happy, but all he's doing is making me miserable!"
After some gentle probing, my mother suggested that he was maybe struggling with depression, I began to make excuses but everything she was saying was starting to click.
She suffers from seasonal depression disorder and recognized the classic signs of depression right away; I have never suffered from it, so didn't even really think to consider depression.
We talked, I calmed down, and I vowed to do research.
I read everything I could about depression, including the different types of depression disorders.
If I was going to come to Husband with this theory I was going to be armed to the hilt.
....
He brushed me off.
He didn't think he had depression, he wasn't always miserable, we were just going through a tough time, all his behaviour had excusable reasons...to him.
No matter what I did, or threatened I couldn't make him go to the doctor or make an appointment, and really, it was up to him.
For the next 12 months, I kept my eyes on his moods, how he reacted, what he did and how he felt.
I started to journal and finally hands shaking I gave him this:
"What's this?" He asked sullenly. (He was in one of his what I call "down cycles" )
"Look at it." I shoved it more under his nose. "I have been tracking this for the past 4 months, and it is like clockwork. You cycle through the same depression every 2-3 weeks, and during that time you make my life a living hell."
Husband finally started to study what I had shoved at him:
"This is you. This is your cycle and you are here." I motioned to my third point.
I watched curiously as he read through my journal entry:
Cycle of Depression
1) Normal "low" (he was never really happy at this point)
2) Feeling "blue"/"down"
3) Becomes non-verbal/Un-communicative/Monosyllabic
4) Distances self/Apathetic/Refuses to acknowledge issues
5) Finds basic communication draining/Puts up walls/Ignores
6) Physically removes self/Avoids people, talking, anything social
7) Loses patience/Easily angered/Starts lashing out at people too close to his "space"
8) Slight upswing/Empathy kicks in/Remorse/Sadness/Desire to "do better"
Rinse and repeat every 2-3 weeks.
Husband put a hand to his face, and was silent a long time. I could tell he was mentally checking off every little detail I had so carefully written down.
"I do this."
It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
Finally he saw it.
Finally he saw it.
"I cannot live with you doing this to me and our child every month." I had to be harsh, he had to understand that even though he though his depression wasn't hurting anyone but him, he was doing almost irreparable damage to our family.
"I understand that." He agreed sadly.
"Which is why I'm making you an appointment with our doctor. You need to talk to someone, we need to figure this out. You aren't happy and neither am I."
I lowered the boom, either he was going to accept my help or reject it, and I had no idea what my next step would be if I was brushed off again.
"Ok."
I started to breathe again, this was hopefully going to be the step in the right direction we needed; just a little bit of light was starting to peek through the darkness that had surrounded us for so long.
Now we just needed to figure out what to do next.
Prt. 2 to come.
Now we just needed to figure out what to do next.
Prt. 2 to come.
Love,
~ The Good Wife