Where to even begin. I'll just start typing and hopefully it will come out somewhat coherent. My sweet hubby David died this past Dec. 13th 2011. He killed himself. He has been suffering over the years with severe depression that has been gradually getting worse and worse with each new trauma. He was prescribed medication. But he would stop taking them for who knows why. Then a few weeks later I could tell he wasn't on them and beg him to please get back on the meds. He would get mad and refuse with some logical explanation so I had to pull out the big guns and tell him I can't live with you like this, either you take your meds and stay on them or you move out. The first couple of weeks are the most dangerous when getting back on antidepressants. That's when they are the most vulnerable to suicide. Which was the case when Dave tried the first time to kill himself. I'll blog later with the gory details of both incidences.
I loved my sweet hubby very much, I hated the depression and the manic/depression. I hate what it made him do to me and our family. Being married to man who can't laugh or joke or be happy is hell. I tried very hard to keep him grounded in reality. Because it was slipping away from him quickly those last few months of his life. Life also was handing him blow after blow knocking him down at every turn. No job, no dissability, constant back and leg pain, no sleep, no hope. His older brother started out with depression then went to manic/depression, then full blown schizophrenia. In and out of the psyc ward at the hospital, police being called and carting him away in a straight jacket several times, hearing voices all the time telling him to do bizarre things and being physically violent to anyone who got in his way. Dave was hearing voices, but he knew it was his sickness talking. At first he did actually think that it was God talking to him. Being that we are very religious and we do believe that God communicates with us still, it was so very hard to sort out what was divine help or the sickness talking. We had many arguments about that. He'd say God told him we need to move, I'd say as soon as you get a job we'll move wherever we need to go. He'd insist and I'd tell him he wasn't being logical. He'd say just because I have depression doesn't mean God doesn't talk to me. I'd say well, look at your brother, he thought God was talking to him also and look at all the crap he's done listening to those voices. Dave would get so mad at me. I tried logic on him. I'd say why would God confuse you like that. You don't have the ability to discern between the two because of your sickness and God knows you have this sickness and therefore would not tell you to do anything that drastic without telling me also. Then he'd come back and say I am too attached to the home and that I'm using the depression against him to get what I want. Dave would tell his family that I was being unreasonable and unsupportive of him as the head of the house trying to get them on his side. But they all knew he was sick and so pretty much egnored his complaining and trusted me.
But through all this, I've learned a very important lesson, well several important lessons. But the main thing I learned was that I was not the one who was being unreasonable and unsuportive. I now know that when I feel something is right or wrong, I can completely trust those instincts and I have the right to DO what I know to be correct.
But what a horrible way to learn that lesson.
