Whoo boy. I seriously want to pull out more of my humor in order to stay in a better place mentally, but I still have some serious stuff rumbling around.
I started to write about what it’s like inside the mind of a depressed person, in order to explain my feelings to my husband. For some reason, I can channel my feelings through my fingers better than my pie hole.
We’re going on 29 years together. There are a lot of things we know, and have learned about each other. I have learned to look the other way, and have accepted his “hobby” of deer killing. I even let him hang the
dead heads trophies in our office. He has learned that when I start a project, I don’t necessarily want any help. If I want help, I will ask. Therefore, I become entertainment for him, due to my perfectionism.
However, he was interpreting the actions produced by my depression as personal attacks. Maybe it’s my observation through the mind-fog of depression. The depressed mind doesn’t always recognize things as they are.
My husband is also a man of few words. He has felt like he has had to control what he said in fear that I would release the Kracken. He lets his thoughts build and build. Then he’ll have a couple of whiskeys and sets off the equivalent of a Krakaotan size eruption. At least that’s what it feels like to me. The last eruption created a lot of clean up in my brain.
I want to share one more thing about what it’s like for me while caught in the stinkin’ grip of depression. My world is inside the nothingness of me. It’s not that I become a narcissist, but all I can think of are my woes. What upsets me, what hurts me. I’m frustrated with myself because I feel paralyzed, and can’t escape the torture. I don’t know if it is like this for all depressed people, but this is my experience.
Lately, I have seen little bits of steam start to escape my husband’s ears. I feel the rumbling of the mountain. It’s funny how men think that it’s scary to ask a woman what’s up, and the response is nothing. Well, that’s the response I’m getting. You know what? The eyes don’t lie. I’m an eye person–have been all my life. What attracts me to people are their eyes. Either a friend, or a person to be wary of, it’s all in the eyes—and I’m reading something I’m saddened by in my husband’s.
Today, I read a post, One More Day, by pardenme, it was another segment of awakening for me. One more step toward healing.
The person who has been holding me up, who held my hand through all the funerals, stayed with my 4-legged kids as they took their final breaths, who believed–and helped me to believe–I would beat cancer. The person who never complains that I don’t want to cook today, or that he doesn’t have any clean underwear. Who overlooks the mega dust bunnies, or the fact that I had permanently become a part of the couch. The person who brings me to reality.
This person has been neglected for far too long.
The mental clarity I’m reaching through therapy and medication, has made me feel a bit guilty of my neglect. Not the kind of guilt that will spin me into a session of beating myself up, simply guilt that sometimes the collateral damage of depression can be relationships. However, this is something I have control over fixing, and I had better hop to it. There is no reason to look back at the damage I can’t return to, and correct. I can only start today and be who I really am, and show what I truly feel.
I’m very lucky to have met, and married such a man.
p.s. never say never 😉