I haven't been able to bring myself to write another post. Every day I kind of go back and forth with the thought of putting anything into writing.
This is hard.
But not in the way that I thought it was going to be.
My husband is a rock. He always has been for me, but now when he shouldn't be, at least not with me at home, he's forcing himself. Since his breakdown he hasn't let himself cry in front of me again. He doesn't open up about how it's feeling, or what he's going through. He walks through the door most days with a smile on his face, like he always did, and he kisses me and grabs our boy for a hug and a quick wrestling match.
We eat dinner together and talk about our day, we watch tv and play with Oliver, and we go to bed. He wraps his arm around me and as hard as I try not to, I fall asleep before him, leaving him with his thoughts.
This is hard.
He feels like less of a man because he broke down, so now it's like he's built a wall of glass to help himself feel like everything's ok. I've been there before, and I understand why he's doing this, I just wish that he didn't feel like he had to. I also wish that I didn't worry every day that I would do something to shatter it.
I'm trying so hard to make life easier for him. I try to keep the house clean, to cook all our meals at home. I gather the garbage and put it out, I get breakfast ready for Oliver each morning before I leave for work. I try to do my hair nice on the weekends, and actually wear some makeup. I try to not always be in sweats or pajamas around the house. I try to be cute. But I'm so tired. I'm just so, so tired.
Last Friday I felt myself start to break a little bit, and I know it's just because I'm putting too much pressure on myself. I know that there's not a lot that I can do to help him. I know that's what the medicine is for, and that as long as I don't make his life any harder right now we'll be ok. I'm just not like that though. I HAVE to do better and more at home, I HAVE to cook better dinners that he loves, and snacks that he likes. I HAVE to plan outings on the weekend so he can enjoy time with Oliver and get out. I HAVE to look cute and act cute and say cute things at night to remind him how cute I am. I HAVE to laugh extra loud and play extra long with Oliver each night to show him what a great family he has, because of how great he is. I just don't know another way to get through this.
I am cracking though. I suffered from sever anxiety at the same time I was struggling with depression four years ago. The anxiety would quickly turn into a full fledged panic attack, and for the first time in two years I had a mild one last Friday. A few times over the weekend I got a little more anxious then usual. I know the cause though, I'm just run down. I'm tired.
And I'm just so, so upset knowing that my husband is hurting and that there's nothing either of us can physically do right now to fix that. It sucks. It just really, really sucks.
I try to ignore his comments about stopping the medicine because it's not working. I laugh it off and tell him that it's a slow process and that we need to give it time. I think maybe we're both cracking with the pressure.