Babe I’m gonna leave you….

was the thought that kept me awake most of the night. He was grim. He was getting really annoyed with the dog (who kept trying to get out to eat the bread for the birds) but I just thought that if we didn’t have the dog, who’d be feeling the brunt of DH’s mood?

I don’t fear for my physical well-being but last night was a real low point. He came upstairs effing and blinding about the dog and I blurted out ‘I hate you’.

Subtle……

But I do hate him like that and he’s been unbearable for weeks now and last night, sometime around 1am, something just snapped.

This morning he told me he’s going to move out for a while and instead of saying ‘Oh don’t’, the first words out of my mouth were ‘Where to?’

Another tick for the subtle box…

When I got back at lunchtime however there was no sign of him going anywhere so I went back out, this time with the dog.

And by this evening, I would say his mood has lifted slightly. Only enough to allow him to actually speak but he did put the kids to bed.

He has just informed me he’s turned a corner, to which I replied ‘In which direction?’ For the better apparently. But watch this space.

 

How many more times (back on the Led Zeppelin theme)

Because I do wonder how many more times DH can slip back in to depression and come out the other side. We seem to have been doing relatively well over the last three days, he’s back at work which has been a huge relief for me.

But things so easily tip things the wrong way again. He’s back to being almost catatonic and I do want to give him a bit of a slap, you know, like they do in films to people who’ve fainted/passed out. Maybe it would snap him out of it, give him something physical to concentrate on. It’s probably best that I don’t though, I don’t condone violence for the most part.

We did have a conversation last night, based partly on my concerns that he’s getting very enthused about the New World Order (see here) and how the elite are planning to take over the world. I’ve always been the more liberal, left-leaning out of the two of us whereas DH has been far more Tory boy-ish. But DH is now very anti-establishment and while I do agree with many aspects (news is a construct, pharma companies are shits for example), he is REALLY getting in to it.

I think I’ve mentioned that he is reading a lot more than he’s every done and he says that he’s ‘woken up’ from a daze and is seeing the world with new, questioning eyes.

Our conversation last night also touched on the fact that one of his sisters is very anti-establishment and always has been and I wondered whether their mental illnesses made them look for answers, answers as to why they are ill, trying to find some sort of sense in the world.

They have a natural sense of discontentment with their depression and I just was interested to know whether people with mental disorders were more inclined to support an alternative viewpoint. Them against the world….

Just as I was about to publish this, an item on HuffPost caught my eye – with all the horror going on in this world, it’s good to be reminded that people can be good, kind and caring.

In a break from the Led Zeppelin theme – I made my own mayonnaise today….

so I am definitely a grown up now. It was quite faffy and I’m not convinced it was worth it yet! But I can bask in the glory of making something from scratch.

Husband is back at work today, officially. And I’m pretty pleased about it. He did get very annoyed before he left so I sloped off for a shower. And the police haven’t rung so I’m assuming he hasn’t lost his rag with a fellow commuter, although there’s plenty of time yet as he has to get back home too.

And breathe…there suddenly seems to be a lot more air in the house.

 

Communication breakdown, always the same…

….. having a nervous breakdown, drive me insane

This Led Zeppelin song I have chosen because it’s impossible to talk to my husband at the moment. He’s so low but he’s also so very angry, grumpy. stroppy and it’s this I find hard to cope with because he’s so very unpleasant to be around. Truthfully I don’t want him around – the alternative is to convince him to go in to hospital, which he won’t do. And I feel guilty because I feel that I should be more sympathetic and understanding and tolerant. However I don’t have the energy to deflect his misery. He’s not at work so he’s around all the time. It can’t have escaped his notice that I’m not at home much.

I’ve tried to talk to him but there’s no point. While he might understand what I’m saying, his brain is making it impossible for him to process information properly.

He’s close to giving up though, I can tell.

Black Dog

Probably should have started the Led Zep mini series with this song

We (DH and me) actually have had a conversation today. Two in fact. Not very satisfying ones admittedly and both left me wishing I hadn’t bothered.

However, we did establish that:
He would not, under any circumstances, go voluntarily in to the psychiatric unit.
He feels totally disconnected from everything, couldn’t care less about anything and is now even annoyed by food (?!).

I did take the opportunity to agree that indeed he had never been worse to live with. And to point out that while he felt safe and secure at home, it might not be the best thing for the rest of the family.

And I do realise that antagonising him isn’t really fair, a bit like bear baiting but the words just had to come out.

We also had it verified by an independent witness that it’s bloody boiling in the house, and not freezing cold as DH seems to think. If he were thinking clearly he’d see that if I think it’s warm, then it really really is.

Good times, bad times

I suspect Led Zeppelin songs might be a good source of blog titles, so let’s start with this one.

It’s certainly the most relevant. Darling Husband (DH) was doing better towards the end of last week and I must admit to a foolish display of optimism in thinking that possibly he was over the worst of the duloxetine withdrawal and that the lithium was taking effect.

Well, I been wrong before and I was wrong again as since Sunday evening, his mood has plummeted. And a nice new element to his mood is the argumentative streak.

DS1 (Darling Son number 1) wanted to read Middle School: the Worst Years of My Life. It’s along the lines of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, with illustrations. Based in the US. But I happened to mention that although the book was American, I went to middle school as at the time, some parts of the UK had first, middle and secondary schools rather than infants and juniors.

Anyway, you’d think I’d told the kids I used to be a skydiver, such was DH’s incredulity and disbelief. ‘You went to middle school? What are you, American? It wasn’t a middle school, it was secondary school, why don’t you call it secondary school’ etc.

I replied, ‘No, it wasn’t secondary school, it was middle school. Not the same thing. I DID go to a secondary school afterwards’.

DH had ‘never heard’ of middle schools apparently, therefore they didn’t exist.

I thought that this very silly discussion was over but no, several hours later, when I was reading Middle School with DS1 I made the mistake of asking DH if he knew how old you were at middle school in the US. Big mistake as DH says he has no idea and that I should know because ‘apparently YOU went to a middle school, even though they don’t exist, it was a primary school.’

No, it fricking wasn’t, it was a middle school.

So I said to my son that we would read upstairs. At this point, DH decides to go to bed. Good, because reasoning with him is futile, rather like reasoning with a drunk person. If he hadn’t gone to bed I just know I would have told him to fuck right off.