Anxious. Helpless. Panicked. Desperate. Exposed. Ashamed. Regretful. Self-critical. Guilty. Misunderstood. Hurt. Rejected. Frustrated. Manipulated. Resentful. Envious. Discouraged. Pessimistic. Confused. Loving. Hating.
Living with a suicidal person floods me with disorienting emotions. As I see my husband walling me off, anxiety, helplessness, and panic kick in. During the search for my husband or after calling the police, feelings of our secret being exposed and a few blaming eyes bore deep shame into me. After an attempt or an event of spiraling downward, I am regretful, self-critical and guilty over the last statements I said to him, that maybe those statements pushed him to the edge. As he’s in the hospital sharing story after story of how I contributed to his pain, I feel hurt, rejected, frustrated, manipulated, resentful.
Envy. What’s that doing on the list? It was hard to list. I feel selfish and embarrassed to list it. But the attention he gets from family, friends, medical staff, our therapist–can make me feel invisible and deeply hurt. I think it’s important to keep in mind the trauma an attempt or his teetering to the edge can cause to those closest to him.
Tears spill down my cheeks as I wonder “Do I call for help now or will he be okay?” Tears spill as I drive to visit him in the hospital. Tears of fear, hurt, anger, and sadness.
I start doubting the relationship. Discouragement, pessimism fills my mind with thoughts of “This is never going to change,” and “Why me?” Fears of “I’ll be left alone one day” and thoughts of “maybe I should get out now” swirl in my mind.
Confusion. Love and hate. Both exist at the same time. I love him. I do. He’s caring, kind, thoughtful. At the same time I hate his moods and actions–callous, detached, rejecting.
His suicidal ideation and depression affects our daughter–she’s been getting into trouble at school. How does a tween handle the ups and downs of her dad? We try to keep it hidden from her–but of course she senses something. She’s expressing it the best way she can right now.
Invisible. It is with my husband’s permission that I start this blog. He understands how isolated and alone I feel. Yet I post apprehensively as I fear my husband may read this blog and think that he is causing me pain that could put him on the path to “I’m a disappointment, I’m a failure” and send him spiraling closer to the edge.
In the safety of anonymity –I am trying to find a place to give myself a voice and not feel so alone. Up until a few years ago no one knew the private pain I lived with. To the outside world my marriage looked ideal. My husband and I hid our pain well. But one night he almost took his life and our pain went public (to our families and friends).
This blog is an informal place for me to process my thoughts. I’m beginning tonight, I hope at what is the tail-end of a couple weeks of uncertainty about my husband’s stability.
My blogging will probably be triggered by in-the-moment events, therapy sessions, feelings of falling apart, despair, lack of control, and helplessness. But I also want to write about hope, faith, love, and grace.
I share my experiences but my way is not THE way. My way is what works for me at this time. Having an understanding/empathetic therapist, supportive/encouraging friends, and a strong church group has gotten me through the toughest times.
On the one hand, if you’re reading this blog and feel hopeless and suicidal then get help. Call a crisis hotline (National 1-800-784-2433/1-800-273-8255) or 911, or check yourself into a hospital. On the other hand, this site is not meant to give out professional advice so if you’re struggling with dealing with a depressed/suicidal spouse, feelings of guilt, hopelessness, etc. then talk to a psychologist or marriage and family therapist or other mental health professional. Speaking to a professional is one way I’ve taken care of myself (self-care) and I highly encourage it.
I take the first step today to making my pain a little more public. Thanks for listening.