For years in our M BW was depressed. She didn't always express it, or communicate it with me. Our communication was deeply flawed.
All of those years i struggled to understand why she was acting the way she was. I took it personally, internalized it, made it all about ME. That turned to resentment, and the rest played out horribly.
What I am coming to realize is that I was most likely depressed for a long time, it was just that my coping skills where to ignore, to dull that pain in all sorts of unhealthy ways, shopping, food, drinking, work, sex/my As, the list goes on and on. To me, being depressed was a choice, and doing those things made me feel better, so I was choosing not to be depressed. I am seeing, so clearly, how fucked up my thinking has been. Those choices were noting but an avoidance to the real issues lucking under the surface.
The other thing I am seeing and getting is that depression is not a mood, or a choice. I know that many will read that and not understand, but I grew up in a house where all we did was avoid, and act like everything was fine. It was so important to be 'happy'. Being fulfilled in life was not the focus, happy was. Being sad was really not an option. The frenetic energy that was spent on just being busy kept us from having to deal with any of that.
These realizations are so exhausting, and frankly, depressing. It is also opening up my eyes to a new level of sadness about how I handled my BW during her depression. I had no empathy, not understanding. I just always thought to myself, 'why can't you just get out of bed and have fun'. It makes me sad to even think about how I acted.
Anyway, my journey continues. 2 years in IC, still no end in sight I am afraid. Just when I start to feel a little better, ad dare I say happy, another realization and another ton of bricks fall on top of me.
