DH has arranged for us to go to a friend’s for lunch (yes really). So I asked him to leave rugby at midday, as soon as it finishes so we can get to friend’s for 1pm. At 12.30 he texts to say he’s leaving, at 12.40 he rings to say he’s still there trying to buy socks??!?!?!?!!?!

Really? Really? FFS. I am so angry with him I want to scream at him. Dodgy neck/shoulder immediately tenses up.

He bloody arranged lunch. And now we’re going to be an HOUR late. Idiot.

Yes, I probably am unnecessarily annoyed but this is a situation of his making. How unbelievably rude.


Funny what currently passes as a ‘good day’

Last night my dear husband (DH) spoke to me in a ‘not angry’ tone of voice and said something that wasn’t along the lines of ‘I hate everything the world is shit’.

Then this morning, he got up and didn’t slam any doors, or fly off in to the rage. By the time I returned from yoga he was semi-pleasant and we even had a conversation or two.

I realise these are mere crumbs from the table of Fully Functioning Relationship but you get it where you can.

A maelstrom

Not a word I use often, but I think apt. For I feel so many different emotions at once. Well, actually, not at once, more sequentially but it goes something like this:

Moderately happy, furious, sad, absolutely fine, really fricking pissed off, sad, tired, fed up, quite happy, furious….

I’ve just been interrupted by our daughter, who should have been asleep two hours ago. She’s in a state, convinced herself she’s ill, and it’s apparent that she isn’t, she’s just really worried about her dad. I admit I was annoyed when she opened the door to the study and I really wish I’d just hugged her first but I really didn’t realise how upset she was (she has form for coming downstairs with rubbish excuses – bad thoughts, strange noises in her room, unbrushed hair).

Lots of hugs and reassurances and she’s gone back to bed and while I can’t help but dwell on how grumpy she’s going to be tomorrow, her distress illustrates how much pressure we are all under.

The guilt of what he’s putting us through adds to his low state and it’s tearing him up inside. He’s spending 23 hours a day in our bedroom as he simply cannot be around anyone. He came downstairs earlier and beyond saying hello to the kids, said NOTHING nice at all. Everything that came out of his mouth was a complaint, or rude. So I kindly pointed out that yes, he probably should just stay upstairs.

Well I didn’t do it kindly, it was more snide. More unkind than snide actually but just when I think that he’s not that bad, he comes downstairs and manages to totally piss me off immediately. And yes, I KNOW IT’S NOT HIS FAULT but it certainly isn’t entirely my fault that his presence sends me wishing we had an extensively stocked bar.

Anyway, the last thing I said to him tonight was that I was calling an ambulance for him if he said anything else along the lines of ‘It would be better if I wasn’t here’. Not that he’d get in the bloody ambulance.

Duloxetine withdrawal part II

This is the pits. This is by far the worst he’s been ever, even when he’s been in the middle of a breakdown.

And to know it’s a physical reaction is a real kick in the teeth because isn’t it bad enough that he’s bipolar?

Yes, he probably should have waited until he was more stable but the more you read, the more you discover that duloxetine withdrawl is famously hard as you discover when you read forums such as this one. Obviously people tend to post to forums when they feel bad but you get the general idea that feeling this awful is not uncommon.

Oh dear, I just found this – which doesn’t make for good reading.

The RAGE is probably the hardest part (mine and his ha ha ha), he was supposed to be back at work today but he can’t be trusted to leave the bedroom let alone the house. And he’s vile.

I’m actually fine when I’m not around him but I’m finding it really difficult to be around him as I’m so bloody angry with it all. And it’s not his fault. He’s so angry that he can’t even ring the doctors because the fury he feels when they don’t answer the phone immediately takes over.

DH definitely has the rage, the headaches, the dizziness, the brain zaps, the despair – it’s a range of symptoms both physical and psychological and it’s really awful. And seemingly he could be suffering these for ages. I had assumed the effects were mainly physical until I read the page above and I’m now in a total freak out that the psychological effects are potential worse.

The first thing to do would be to speak to his doctor but at this stage I wouldn’t even be able to get him out of the house to get to the doctor. However, I think I’m going to have to try because he can’t stay like this. He’s probably closer to committing suicide than he’s ever been.

In the mix – duloxetine withdrawal

He’s stopped taking the duloxetine, cold turkey. He thinks it was making him feel worse. I would suggest that possibly stopping the duloxetine has made him feel worse, albeit temporarily.

After some ‘stable door open horse bolted’ research (the best sort) we discover that typical of most strong drugs, duloxetine can be an absolute arse from which to withdraw (grammar check!). Shakes, dizziness, ‘brain zaps’ ????????, confusion – sounds like a lot of fun.

So, we are 72 hrs in to the withdrawal although he only told me today. I hope this explains the huge anxiety levels – he is worrying about anything and everything. Including, in his words, ‘worrying about how worried I am’.

Sometimes, it seems like we’re in purgatory. I am not a religious person, but this would be an outstanding purgatory situation.

You’ll be pleased to hear….

that I don’t really have anything to say.

Except I’ve now done 12 yoga classes in 14 days (it’s part of a 15-day challenge in case you’re wondering if I’m some sort of crazed yoga bunny). And you’d think I’d be a whole world more relaxed wouldn’t you?

And I am a tiny bit disappointed that I still can’t do the splits. You know, I’m starting to doubt that I’ll ever be able to do them.

Another sad Saturday

and by sad, I mean shit.

So our youngest kicks him in the shin because apparently my husband is being ‘silly’ and that’s it. The rest of the day is a write-off. Admittedly I wouldn’t be even remotely amused by a kick in the shins.

But the day got worse – I had to take the older two swimming (as that was the plan for the afternoon pre-kick in the shin). This simple act proves how much I love my children as I really really really dislike going swimming, mainly because it’s a right faff and it’s really never warm enough. And I’m pretty bad at swimming, and I have to wear my lenses so I can’t get my face wet……and then I get really annoyed if I get splashed in the face. And you can imagine how many face splashes there are in a swimming pool.

Honestly. And when I got home he was still in a filthy mood. Not that I expect him to just ‘snap out of it’, as much as I would like that to happen. But it’s draining. I don’t really want to be around him because it just pisses me off and it’s not his fault.

To his credit, he never says ‘But it’s not my fault’, although I say it a lot to him.

And as with last Saturday, he wants to be dead. I’m not sure that means he actually wants to kill himself but he thinks we’d all be better off. Maybe he’s hoping for an incurable illness? Then he gets to die without having to take his own life. Be careful what you wish for – I’m pretty sure that a terminal illness would actually make him think being alive wasn’t so bad.