by Band Back Together | Nov 22, 2016 | Breakups, Caregiver, Coping With Depression, Family, Help With Relationships, Major Depressive Disorder, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Mental Health, Romantic Relationships |
Sometimes, people on the outside have no idea how to help those with depression.
This is her story:
How do I make you see that being depressed is not something I have control over? How do I make you see that when the darkness is creeping in, I feel alone and I need an anchor?
I can’t just “be happy”. I can’t just change my negative thinking. I can’t just change the fact that I feel like a failure. I need a lifeline.
You are that person for me. You are my rock, my oasis. But that doesn’t mean that the darkness does not creep in. It doesn’t mean the thoughts cease.
It does mean that I will cling harder to you while pushing you away. And I hate that about me. Because I love you. Because I know you deserve better. Because I know in the one year we’ve been together, I have come to trust you more than I have anyone in 16 years. Because we’ve walked through fire together.
But my mind won’t let me see that enough. My mind tells me, “He doesn’t love you.” “He will leave you.” “You will be alone.” And instead of looking into your eyes and hearing you tell me you love me and planning our future together, I listen to the voices. My mind isn’t trying to protect me. My mind has gotten used to the negative thoughts and now thrives on them.
Unfortunately, the voices haven’t always came from my own head. They’ve come from bad relationships. Some that lasted only 10 months, one that lasted almost 6 years. Six years of hell. Six years that left me scarred. Time may heal wounds, but the scars are still visible. As the years have passed by, I have tackled one issue after another that I carry as baggage. But I still have the depression. I still have the anxiety. I still have the fear. And that’s when the darkness begins to creep in. And the cycle begins anew….
I want to be a better person. Not just for you. Not just for my kids. But for me.
But I need your help and your understanding that these walls are not about you, they’re about me.
by Band Back Together | Jun 15, 2016 | Help With Relationships, Loneliness, Marriage Problems, Video Game Addiction |
Look at me, tear your eyes away from the screen. Just for a day, understand why I’m upset when you say you’re going to bed.
Weekends? They come and go, with you sitting there, asking me to play with you, sit with you, talk to you.
I don’t want to anymore.
I keep thinking how I want time with you, how I craved you when we were states apart, for so long. Now we’re here, and we don’t even spend the weekends together. Sometimes you come to me, and you leave. Desperate to play.
You don’t see this, but I do. And I feel like it’s wrong for me to feel this way. I refuse to nag any longer, or mention it.
It’s created a distance and loneliness I can’t describe.
I wish you’d understand, I wish I could also understand.
If I ignore it, it doesn’t matter or hurt, but some nights, it’s very clear that you prefer a Saturday night playing online with strangers than with your wife talking, cuddling, and maybe watching a movie.
When was the last time we watched a movie together?
I don’t pressure. I wont complain, you’re not a bad husband.
But some nights like this, it hurts to realize that we don’t spend time together unless I sit beside you while you play. That sometimes I have to pick up a game to be near you. Please, stop saying that I’m avoiding you if I am not sitting next to you.
Sometimes, I am uncomfortable with the situation. How we talk, and you game, looking at the screen instead of me. Us spending time together is basically on your terms, but you don’t realize this.
It hurts to realize that tonight we have been in the same house, but in two different rooms, only because I don’t want to sit on the couch while you play away the night.
I know we met on a game, but please, realize our relationship has moved past video games. We have a family to care for, we have each other.
Why don’t you approach me to stay, to do something else, like watching a movie? Why don’t we spend time together like the couples on the street do? Talking, walking, sitting outside to look out and cuddle. Why don’t we do something outside of watching what you want to watch, and playing video games?
But I wont mention this to you anymore, the times I’ve tried, it’s only made it worse.
I wish you’d understand how it hurts, that you don’t want to watch a movie with me, not just one night, but the next, and the next …and as the time just builds up, I just end up watching it alone.
by Band Back Together | Mar 25, 2016 | Abuse, Anger, Breakups, Marriage Problems, Sadness |
Shit.
That’s all I’m thinking. Shit. I’m pissed.
… I don’t know why you don’t get it, are you stupid? You pretending to be naive? No… maybe not?
You ask me to skype, see my family… I-don’t-want-to.
It’s been around 9 months since I stormed out of your house, remember that night? That you were towering over me… beating me up as my son cried in the other room. Don’t yet? I wish I didn’t have to. Because that’s all I think about when we e-mail or text.
You complain you haven’t seen my son… but do you hear me complaining about you being a shitty mom? A shitty support system? A shitty person to me? Do you hear me complaining right now about how much lack of care you STILL show over my emotions? How fucking selfish you still are?
And you wonder why I’m pissed at you…
I live a sea away, and I still sometimes feel your grip over me… Your constant pressure to have me answer your questions, constant pressure over your emotions threatening to drown me.
Drowning… Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped inside this little bottle. I can’t speak of whats wrong… You’re whats wrong. And I can’t even shoo you away.
Do you ever ask me how I’m doing? How I’m handling my new marriage? Have you ever had the courage to speak about the things you have done to me? The way you have hurt me?
No, all you are crazy about is seeing my son. And that’s why I deny it to you! I scheduled to skype tomorrow, and I am not going to! Because you’re a shitty person and I am PISSED off.
Because whenever I think of making you happy, I remember the times you put your foot down so I could be unhappy, so I could be drowned with more exhaustion, so I could be more lost.
Because you never made the effort to really help me!
You know what? I’m beginning to not care about you. Not care about what happened. I’m beginning to actually move on, but not forget! Don’t think yourself lucky this time, because to me, you’re growing to be a stranger… A bad one at that.
In your eyes I am completely evil. But remember, this is what you showed me to be.
by Band Back Together | Feb 19, 2016 | Adult Bullying, Anger, Bullying, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Boundaries, Family, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems |
I hate my life right now. I have no one who can relate to me, and I don’t know if someone has ever been in my situation. It started after my husband and I got married. I didn’t really know his family that well and neither did he, he had always tried to distance himself and stay low with them. They seemed nice and friendly to me, but he told me a few times they are not all that nice when you get to know them.
They are from an Asian culture, very materialistic, controlling and demanding. Finding something authentic in them has been hard. I’ve come to experience this first hand, sadly after our first child was already born. Now all my instincts are going crazy and I don’t know what to do anymore. I almost want to leave my husband just to get my child away from these crazy folks.
My sister in law is the worst, and frankly I haven’t seen much yet, and I don’t want to. She appears as this big hearted, warm and EXTREMELY nice person at first, but she goes on fire really easily. She has some serious issues with self realization and is in denial about everything except for her money. She blows off at the tiniest incidents. And she treats my husband like he is shit. Calls him names, gives him orders -she’s the oldest and dominates the whole family. His mother is not much better, plays the victim the whole time, my husband falls for it very easily. She does creepy stuff to my child all the time. My sister in law has a child that is 4 months older than ours so my mother in law was constantly trying to make them play together, although they were only a few weeks old.
The whole thing was alright with me in the beginning, until an event happened that really upset me. My husband found his sister nursing our son. The whole event was so absurd and difficult to describe, I wasn’t there. I left my child with my husband for 1 hour, he went to his parents, his parents had some kids over, and of course my sister in law and her family were there. My husband left my child with my mother in law and sister in law for maybe 4-5 minutes, when he comes back she is nursing him, and my mother in law is watching and smiling at the whole thing.
When I heard about this incident I got really angry and called her up telling her nicely this was inappropriate and I expected an apology. She responded with denying the whole thing, calling my husband an idiot because he got it all wrong, then she called my husband up yelling at him for putting her in an awkward situation and going against the family. Everybody denies the whole thing and is calling me crazy. I am now still extremely angry at his family. I find it unbearable to be around them. I’ve tried to talk to them, talking about limits and boundaries, but they only smile and say yes yes yes. It drives me nuts.
This has put a heavy burden on our marriage as I find it really hard accepting them as they are or seeing myself and our son spending time with them. I cannot leave my child alone with them as they push the limits all the time. My husband finds it more important than ever spending time with them, and only wants to show compassion and understanding. I don’t trust his judgments and feel really alone in this. But what is he supposed to do? They are his family, but so am I. But he seems to have no opinion of his own except for love and understanding. That is just too far out for me in all this anger.
by Band Back Together | Sep 9, 2015 | Depression, Help With Relationships, Jealousy, Loneliness, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Romantic Relationships, Sadness, Therapy |
One year ago, September 8, you kissed me. You think it was so innocent. Just a momentary lapse of judgement. I wish I could tell you this. You have no idea the damage you caused.
I was content in my marriage, content with my life. I love my husband (I guess), but we never had any sexual chemistry between us and we haven’t had sex in years. He said it was because I was frigid, and I thought I was because I never felt any attraction to him. Over the years he has lost all desire for me, but still, he is a good man and we have built a comfortable life. He’s a reclusive intellectual and a bit depressed, like I am, so we spend a lot of time in silence. he silence, like the sexless marriage, has become unbearable.
Then YOU came along… you are fun, energetic, full of life and we talk and joke constantly when we have lunch or a drink. You remind me of everything I gave up when I got married, including spontaneity, humor, fun, and passion. I am not frigid; that one kiss proved it. The arousal and feeling of pure joy in that one kiss are indescribable and it still haunts me every day. I was not expecting this, not looking for this, yet it happened.
When I see you with your partner I get so jealous. Her laughter is a knife in my soul. I don’t laugh with my husband, we don’t have fun. I laugh with you though, and whenever we part, I go into a deep depression for days afterwards at the thought of not seeing you again for a while.
I feel you would never leave your partner for me – it’s far too much a miracle to expect from Life. And I’ve never, ever wanted to cheat on or leave my husband. So what am I to do? I feel like I’m dying a slow death from a neglect that I never realized was happening until you kissed me.
I have no valid reason for leaving my husband, he’s a good person and he tries. I feel like I’m the one who’s screwed everything up, that he should have married someone who could love and appreciate him better and was attracted to him. He says he loves me though and if I leave ever him he’ll be crushed. It’s cowardly of me, but I wish instead he would find someone better than me and leave me for her so I could try again in life. I would want to try with you, but as I said, it’s far too big a miracle to expect and probably more than I deserve.
My therapist hasn’t told me to stop seeing you, and for that I am grateful. He understands you are the only bright spot in my life, even though it depresses me so whenever we part. He acknowledges my feelings and agrees this is all so tragic, but so far we have no answers. This is all such a mess.
All because of one …little …kiss.
by Band Back Together | Sep 6, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Faith, Family, Fear, Guilt, How To Help A Friend With Infertility, Infertility, Invisible Illness, Loneliness, Marriage and Partnership, Romantic Relationships, Shame, Stress, Trauma |
I don’t think anyone knows the isolation that infertility brings with it unless they’ve lived it. Sure, we have several friends that we share all this with. Or rather, I do. I don’t know that my husband, Brian, has really told anyone what we’re going through. If you know him in real life, you know that he is silent about things that bother him. If you don’t know him, I cannot stress how quiet and private he is. But most of my friends know what we’re going through, and a few of our family members. Most people are unfailingly supportive, even if they don’t understand a bit of what’s going on.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it any less lonely, and doesn’t make me feel like less of a freak. Save your breath — rationally I know I’m not a freak. But that doesn’t keep me from feeling that way. And no amount of support from my very fertile friends makes it less lonely. Infertile friends — we are blessed with a few of those, too, though I wish they didn’t have to go through it either — make it even easier.
But when I’m in that exam room, having my lady bits poked and mishandled by the doctor and his ultrasound wand of pain, I am alone. When the Clomid headache sets in and I can’t even think straight, no one else is going to deal with that pain for me. When we schedule our love life, it’s just the two of us. When my cycle abruptly ends with the inevitable period, it’s just me.
That’s isolation.
That’s infertility.
But what really shocks me is the unexpected ways that infertility continually separates us from our family and friends. While it colors how I look at the world, it also colors how people look at me.
Between daycare and lessons, I come into contact with about 11 or 12 families each week. I have at least one doctor’s appointment each month and sometimes more, since I’m always having blood work and such, I need to let the affected parties know that either Brian will be here with the Munchkin Coalition, or that I’ll be late for lessons. None of them get too nosy or pry into my personal life, and all of them offer their support quietly, discreetly, and in a very sincere manner.
Except for one person. Who feels the need to tell me (again and again and again) the three stories she knows about other people suffering through IF, and how easy it was for her to get pregnant with her multiple children, and how she just can’t imagine how horrible it must be. And then, she says it…. “I am SO glad I didn’t have to do any of that! I just got pregnant so easily!” And laughs.
I’m not kidding you. She laughs at the misery of others and her amazing good fortune. One of these days I’m either going to punch her, or tell her what I’m thinking. Which is “Me, too. I’m glad you never had to go through any of this, because you couldn’t take it.” Nothing says “You’re a Freak” like that kind of statement.
My next example is a conversation I had with a family member who has expressed absolutely zero interest in our fertility situation until a recent phone call. Which, I have to say, was lovely and all that, but also really strange after two years of completely ignoring the situation.
It’s hard to catch someone up after two years of constant flux and ordeal. She then said “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it or not.” Um…yeah. I have a blog about this, ya’ll. It’s pretty much all I do talk about, it seems. Asking how it’s going makes me feel like you care, like you’re interested, like I’m not alone. The only reason I don’t talk about it 24/7/365 is because I know how that would annoy people.
So instead I wait to be asked, and feel separated from my family.
Finally, a very sweet friend recently made a comment that showed me just how much people must view me through what I’ve come to think of as The Infertility Filter. After all, it doesn’t just color how I see the world, but also how the world sees me.
We were talking about her family, and her new niece. She related an adorable story about her nephews as well. We rarely get to see them, so it was neat to catch up and think of them as little people and not as the babies we last saw. We parted ways and about 10 minutes later my phone beeped. She texted to apologize for her story, because she thought the content might have been inconsiderate and hurtful given our infertile state.
Granted, after I spent the next ten minutes really thinking about it I was able to see how someone could have taken offense or been hurt, given the actual content of the story she shared. If they were seriously sensitive and felt the world revolved around them. I, however, love to hear stories about other people’s kids — I spend 5 days a week caring for other people’s children, right?
Even though I was completely un-offended and hadn’t spared it a second thought until she texted, I appreciated her concern.
But I also had to wonder — who else is censoring what they say because I can’t get pregnant? Are we the topic of conversation when we’re not there? Are we your dinner conversation? How often are we referred to as “Brian and Andrea. They can’t get pregnant.” Or “this couple we know who can’t have a baby”.
I hate being pigeon-holed anyway, but to be ostracized by perfectly well-meaning people is kind of a bummer in and of itself. How many stories are we not hearing because someone is worried about our reaction or our feelings? Sure, it’s thoughtful. But it’s also terribly isolating.
A lot of the time, people with infertility isolate themselves. We really don’t want to make people uncomfortable or uneasy. We don’t want to be seen as abnormal, so we keep our problems hidden away. We don’t put our needs and concerns on the prayer list at church. We don’t ask friends to accompany us to the doctor for moral support (at least not after the first time you turn us down).
We don’t offer information, and we are crushed when you don’t ask. Quietly crushed. It’s so terribly easy to believe that we are all alone in our struggles, especially for couples who don’t know any other infertile couples. The longer we’re infertile, the more it builds up, and the lonelier we become.
That’s one reason I blog. Granted, I started blogging before we were “trying”, and I’ll hopefully still be blogging long after we have children, so it’s not technically an “infertility blog”. And yet it is.
I found that when we really started having trouble getting pregnant a lot of my information, ideas, inspiration, and encouragement came from the blogging world. I learned more from other infertile people than from doctors or journal articles. I want to give back to that. I want to be a source of information and encouragement to other infertiles out there who have just received a diagnosis, or just finished their fifth failed IUI, or who have discovered that Clomid doesn’t get everybody pregnant right off the bat.
So I make it a point to live our story out loud and proud. I won’t act ashamed of my infertility, and I won’t pretend it doesn’t exist to make someone else comfortable. I won’t be silent about something that affects so many people, and I won’t make anyone else feel embarrassed either by their fertility or their ability to pop out kids like it’s easier than breathing.
If you got here through a search, you are not alone. Pull up a seat, pop open a bottle of water (no booze in the infertile zone except CD 1-4), and share your stories. Ask questions.
If I can’t answer, maybe someone else can. Let’s learn from each other, and lift each other up. Need prayer? You got it. Need to gripe about how much this sucks, how cold your doctor’s hands are, or how much you really hate scheduled nookie? Go for it — we’re listening.
You are not alone, you don’t have to be isolated, and you are okay.
If we are all determined to do this right out loud, infertility does not have to separate us from them.
