We had a wonderful day, went to sleep, and I woke up to a completely different husband.
It is only in the past few years that I truly understand that hubby has always been very very depressed. And depression sucks.
I thought it was me.
You see, in the past I used to blame myself. Since normal people do not just wake up in a hateful place for no reason, it had to be me, right?
I mean, I burnt the toast, didn't I?
And I forgot to take the butter out.
I didn't write down that ATM withdrawal and overdrew the account.
And my step-son freaked out and screamed for his mother all night.
So screaming, spitting, throwing, breaking, cursing, and then finally going to bed for a few days was an appropriate response, right?
My mother was bipolar, showing me both mania and deep, suicidal depression. I know not from appropriate responses.
And I would act out too, mind you. I screamed, broke things, cursed, and shook with anger. I often had a Bad Day.
I thought people were entitled to bad days.
About 10 years ago I started to work on myself. I kept journals, started a gratitude practice, and made a concerted effort to tell the truth always.
I dug for the positive, gave out lots of compliments, and started to forgive everyone, including my parents and myself.
I stopped holding grudges. I realized how much of my behavior was learned from my mother.
And I started to live a better life.
Suddenly I had more energy, now that I wasn't spending so much on anger, resentment, and grudges.
Suddenly I had more money, now that I was giving and spending appropriately and not either hording it or throwing is away.
Suddenly I had more opportunities, as my light grew and attracted others.
And suddenly, my marriage was better, as I forgave hubby and myself, stopped holding on to anger, and started telling the truth.
Hubby was still depressed.
Not as angry, not as confrontational, but still depressed.
And even after we moved to NYC, with stable income, and he has written and published two books to some critical acclaim, he is still depressed.
Yesterday he was fine.
Truly! We took the ferry over to Governor's Island, explored Fort Jay and Castle William, had a picnic, got caught in a little rain, saw a huge hawk, and ordered sushi for dinner. A great day.
And he woke up this morning depressed.
Bad depressed. Like, "my life sucks and nothing matters and I hate my life" depressed. He is in bed as I type.
I feel like he has been invaded.
Today is a depression invasion!
How long will it last?
He will assure me that it is not my fault. And I know it isn't.
But it still sucks.