Love Will Voices: Love's Story

The following story was submitted to us anonymously.  We applaud their courage in sharing their experiences.  If you or anyone you know is battling depression or contemplating suicide, there is help: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.**Trigger warning**

Love you to my Heart


You keep saying you are sorry, I forgave you when I married you.
You tell me you are holding me back, you are my driving force.
People say it’s all in your head, we know it’s in your DNA.
People say you will come out of this, we know you will never be the same.
Our children hear you weep, they nurse you back to smiles.
Our children watch your eyes fade, they see your strength endure.
Yes, I feel broken as you claim.
No, I will never imagine my life without you.

   My husband and I are slowly finding confidence and strength to share our story,
and I truly hope that by writing this I will be able to make at least one connection
with somebody who is walking in shoes much like mine (or ours). I am asking to
stay anonymous not because I am ashamed by any means but to honor my
husband’s privacy as he finds his own voice through this.

    My husband was recently officially diagnosed with major depression and anxiety. Although when I hear those words, they so little depict what we are actually going through. As his wife I have slowly watched the shadow following behind him quite literally swallow him up. His anxiety started years back- close to the time we started
dating. At the beginning, it was sort of light. A little social anxiety, anxiety about
major life events, and discomfort. The next phase hit pretty hard and within a
couple of years that we started seeing the initial signs- this time was vomiting,
night sweats, some of the “shakes”. The third phase was much more intense and
also the phase in which I would ultimately say- it began.

      His first panic attack. It  should have been a red flag for us. However, we were “used” to this dealing with anxiety stuff. We ended up in the emergency room for what was some pretty seriously traumatic aftershocks of the panic attack itself. He took a few days off work to be at home and heal. We continued to see his general practitioner, got a medication adjustment and continued on. This fourth and final phase is what I would say stole my husband from himself, about two years later.
We began seeing a dramatic increase in panic attacks- and although the first few
were scary, they were manageable to him. My husband is extremely strong, and
strong willed. He never leaves a job unfinished and absolutely would never,
EVER leave a job poorly done. So he fought. Hard. And one day I got a call while I
was working. He was having a “heart attack”.


      Well, it wasn’t actually a heart attack. If you have panic attacks- you know what I
am talking about (what I wished I would have known at the time). We rushed him
to the emergency room for some tests, fearing that what he would have would
have to be dealt with my more tests, blood work, and possibly some type of heart
investigation. Wrong, so very, very wrong. Anxiety, they said. He and I shook our
heads. THIS could not be anxiety. We stopped eating gluten, and dairy refined
sugars, started using different strains of CBD and essential oils, chose certain
music and wanted to continue to think that anxiety doesn’t do this to people. We
were, at the time, basically the people that frustrate me the most now. Now that I
know what I know. The panic attacks didn’t change from our behavior and
environmental changes. They increased, drastically. As so did all of the other side
effects and characteristics of anxiety and depression. The hopelessness, crying,
anger, frustration, outbursts intensified. And suicidal thoughts bloomed.


     We started seeing a family therapist that ultimately referred us to Centerpointe
and my husband is on medical leave of absence for work undergoing treatment. I
should have mentioned sooner that we have two beautiful children. I am a stay at
home mom, have the dream to home-school and raise our children on our small
farm of goats and chickens, dogs and a handful of other animals. My husband and
I both share the joys of home and worked extremely hard to build the “life that
you don’t want to escape from.” And in these past three months, so much has
changed that the only thing that deeply matters to me, is that my children get to
see my husband for all of the million reasons that I fell in love with him.


      My story is different because I do not have depression and anxiety. But I am
living with it. I am trying to cope with watching these diseases break my husband
down every day. I am trying to keep my heart whole, while I watch his shatter. My
husband’s diagnoses changed when he began his treatment. His first diagnosis is
Major Depression and then Anxiety, although I don’t know that order really
matters. His medications that he is taking literally fill up a shoe box that sets up
in our kitchen cabinets. On the list of his medications are SSRI’s (selective
serotonin reuptake inhibitors), anticonvulsants, anxiolytics, and a plethora of
vitamins that they recommend he take. They have changed his medication and
dosage weekly. We have been through periods of withdrawals that mimic those
that you see in films representing heroin addicts or resemble those of opiate
withdrawals. It is scary. We are scared.


      What I wonder about the most is how I can show him that I will love him no
matter what. That even when he feels like he is dragging me down, he is still
pushing me to move forward and be stronger. That no matter how many times he
feels like he must apologize, or how many times he doesn’t feel present, that
having him here, with us, is the best thing for us. I try and do any little small
thing he might need or want- not to be recognized, but to see if it makes him feel
better. Most of the time, it doesn’t. When the kids call his name to show him
something they made, or to do a puzzle or play a game, I gaze over and my heart
clenches. I see his eyes fade. His arms are burning from a side effect of the
medication, or he is drowsy from being up sweating all night. I don’t wan’t to
interfere- but I do, “Ohhhh, can I play??” And I see the sense of relief wash over
as my husband un-clenches his jaws, relaxes his shoulders. It makes my heart
hurt in a million ways, but it is literally killing my husband.


     I feel robbed of our lives. The activities that we used to be able to do with a small
struggle, we can no longer do at all anymore. When we wake up we have one goal
in mind, make it to tomorrow. Do it for our kids, and do it for each other, but at
the depths of it all what I really want at the very bottom of my soul is for him to
do it for him. I want him to love himself again. I want him to find himself through
this shadow. He has told me he will not ever be “back to the way he was” and I am
not asking for that. I am asking that all of this hard work, and enduring, all of this
FIGHTING to get better will one day bring him at peace with himself.