I have bipolar I disorder, so it means I have mood swings that last a few months. I manage my condition very well with medication and being self aware and generally speaking, unless you knew me well you wouldn't know I had it though I've been very unwell in the past.
I've been largely stable for about 4 years, but I still experience depressive episodes. I can't take antidepressant medication as they kick me into a manic episode, so I kind of have to white knuckle it. I get them around the same time every year- September.
Unfortunately, last September was the month after my wedding. I was so hoping I wouldn't become depressed, but lo, I did. That, along with some other outside stuff (and our wedding night was awful- huge, massive drunken family fight we got roped into, we didn't sleep together until a few days into the honeymoon, which was also my birthday, had a huge argument when my phone was stolen and the whole time I was distracted by thinking of my sister who was in a crisis), pretty much ruined the first months of our marriage. My husband became depressed, too, but denied it completely, and it partly led to his affair. We had both shut down.
He now admits he was depressed and we've talked a lot about how we can manage it better in the future. He didn't read up much on bipolar disorder because he felt like it didn't define me (and it doesn't) but now he is reading about it and listening to me when I explain in more depth certain things. He has had one meeting with my ex-psych nurse who called him in after a manic episode that ended in a severe depression to explain everything to him a few years ago. He has, by and large, dealt extremely badly with my mental health problems. I have asked him time and time again to seek support when I am ill so that he doesn't get ill, too, but he never has done and he blames me. He was absolutely horrible to me from Nov-Feb and we considered breaking up because of it. He gave me ILYBILWY (classic, but I didn't realise it at the time), told he felt dead and that he thought I felt the same. I said I didn't, but honestly, it's hard to love someone who is shouting at you all the time.
During the recent depression, I realised my nursing course was exacerbating it so I quit. I had worked really hard so it was a big decision and one I agonised over. My husband was irritated by it as he could plainly see I was miserable in it and didn't understand why I didn't quit earlier.
I started to feel better around February, while my husband was in A, without my knowledge. He told me, repeatedly, that he felt utterly dead and numb, yet still denied being depressed (even scornfully referenced my saying so to the OW, saying it was just me that made him feel dead, not anything else). He acknowledges he copes very badly with it and we are working on it. About his feelings of deadness, he has said that I am his emotional yardstick and when he feels that way about me he feels like he should give up. He said with the A he felt on the first night of them kissing drunk at our housewarming he had destroyed it anyway so he may as well go nuclear (which, in retrospect, he didn't. He had 2 opportunities to have sex and didn't, knowing that that would be beyond the pale. Lucky me).
Anyway. I am not depressed anymore, and neither is he, though we are both sad. But I actually miss my depression now. Feeling utterly numb is preferable to this. And although while I am in it I want to die, a part of me knows that these are my seasons, I have to help myself, and it will pass. And it does.
They all seem like such small fry to me now. This feels like pain without end. My husband was shocked when I said his A broke my heart more than my dad's death (he died aged 47, of alcoholism, and it's 7 years next year). It hurts more because this was done to me. This was inflicted upon me by two people I loved and trusted. It is a level of pain I never knew existed.
I never thought I would get into a place where I felt this way. When I am depressed, all I want is to feel something. Now, all I want is to feel nothing. Mostly I am okay but tonight, after a lovely day, when my husband went to work (he works nights 7 nights out of 14, and no, it's not helping) I felt an utter surge of rage and grief. I hate being in this flat, it started here, and I felt like unblocking the OW on Facebook so I could message her and tell her I hated her. How dare she continue to live her happy little life while she has destroyed mine? And looking at her photos, she looks like a model, whereas I am short and fat. My WH says he wasn't attracted to her (and indeed, she is not his type, she is blonde and has a flat chest and short hair, he loves long hair and boobs) but who am I to believe him?
I texted him about my feelings, saying I hate this, that I sometimes hate him for putting me here and that I didn't deserve this. He reiterated that I didn't, he hated himself for doing this to me, that he loved me and was sorry. And it helps, but I am still in the disbelief stage, I vacilliate so much between emotions and I am exhausted. I would rather be flat and numb than this.