Enough Already.

I’ve got an incredibly packed week coming up: two major events for my full-time job, the 18th birthday of our youngest, a school concert, a group to lead for my freelance job, seeing our son off on a school trip to Florida, preparing for a meeting I’ll lead and a conference Bernadette and I will attend next week, and – possibly most momentous of all – two doctor appointments to go to with my husband.

He’s that guy who had to go completely off his antidepressant meds in order to have a sleep study, hoping to get to the bottom of why his depression had spiked and his energy had taken a nose dive.  Apparently the sleep study showed some significant findings, but we’re not clear on what those findings were yet because his follow-up was scheduled on the same day as “snowpocalypse #1” as we’ve dubbed the first foot of snow we received at the end of February. He finally sees the sleep doctor tomorrow, and the psychiatrist on Tuesday.

I will have to censor the string of four letter words I would like to use to describe what my husband’s behavior has been like since he went off his meds.  I sympathize, really I do.  I recognize that depression is an illness that causes this miserable moodiness and his desire to sleep round the clock, and that he doesn’t want to be this way.

I also know that I can’t take much more of the constant hang-dog expression on his face.  Or the negative, gloom-and-doom comments that come out every time he opens his mouth.  Or the irritability, or the inability to make decisions, or the hypersensitivity, or any one of a dozen unpleasant symptoms that go along with depression.

Bottom line, living with depression in the household sucks.  I hear this fact regularly from the people Bern and I work with, and I’m living it myself – yet again.  And so, during a week when I need every spare minute I can get to deal with work and personal commitments, I’m taking two or three hours out to attend my husband’s appointments.  I want to be absolutely certain that someone who can think straight hears what the doctors have to say and learns what steps we can take next to fight this illness that is driving us both over the edge. Most of all, I want to have my husband back – the guy who’s funny, optimistic, and caring.  He’s got to still be in there somewhere.

-Amy

 

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