My DW and I had a fight last night. Not sure now exactly what happened. You see DW and I both suffer from depression and are both in the midst of changes in our medication. The fight was over something stupid. We were having a fairly normal conversation when she got this look. I know the look it usually means I have done something or said something that has made her mad. Well it turns out it wasn't me, a huge sinkfull of dishes had attracted a number of VERY obnoxious house flys. I made the mistake of commenting on theundone dishes. She started into her ussual well if you would help out speach.
Do I help, well I think I do. Do I help enough, most definately not. There in lies the conflict. I do not know where enough is. It seems to me she is more concerned with her life outside the home then her life inside the home. My father worked, and my mother worked. You see most of my father's money went to pay the sallary of the local bartender. My father never lifted a finger around the house. Oh he did many major repairs but even most of those were left to my mother. My mother and us kids did the house work. Ok compared to my father, I do a hell of alot more around the house then I could be doing. Is it as much as I could, no probably not. My mother raised 8 kids, worked and kept the house reasonably clean. My wife does not work, has only 4 kids and cannot keep the house from becoming trashed.
Ok I will be the first to admit that is not entirely a fair comparison. Am I expecting too much from my wife? I am not expecting the moon, what I really want is to not have to worry if I will have a clean, repaired pair of pants to wear to work. That I can walk from most anyplace in the house too most any otherplace and stay on the carpet, or floor, and not be stepping on clothes or dishes or spilled food.
I know I need to do more. I know I tend to isolate. Mostly I know that she struggles too. I just want her to acknowledge that I am trying. She sees what I am doing as isolating, being on the computer and such. This journal, starting to code websites again, they are all baby steps back. Back to doing things, talking to people. I struggle each day with just dropping it all. Just walking away from reality once and for all. Each day I wake up, each day I go to work is a success. I know I am not where I should be, but I thank God I am not were I could be. I just wish I could somehow communicate to DW not to push. Any good, any hope, that I build each day is dashed and broken, when she reminds me just how far I have to come.
I am seriously considering asking my doctor about ECT treatments. It scares me half to death to even say that. My Grandfather had to have them. A former client of mine had them when he became catatonic with depression. I am tired of struggling, tired of feeling like my life is for naught. Tired of my only dream in life being that, I will still be alive next year at this time.
After the fight, I went to sleep. Ussually I feel better after some sleep. Particularly now that I have my CPAP machine. Buty this time I dreamed. Horrible crazy mixed up dreams. Probably a side effect of this new medication. Where my former medication was known for supressing dreams, this new one is known for helping dreams. In the end of the dreams I took a handful of pills. Two police officers tried to stop me, but were unable. The dream ended there. I woke up with a slight renewal of hope. I still have a little fight left in me. I only hope that I am able to claw enough ground to keep me out of the pit until they can get my meds straitened out. A reader pointed out 2 Corinthians 1 in the forums. I am at that stage were Paul was about verse 9 I think, despairing even of life itself. I pray I can rwach the point where I can see God's purpose behind this present suffering.
No comments:
Post a Comment