History

It has been brought to my attention by someone I love and respect that my blog has been very one sided. It makes it sound like I'm being trampled on and hurt for no reason. I'd like to set the record straight if I may:

The first year of my marriage to Will was great. With one exception of living with my parents which proved fatal for the relationship between he and my mother. We had a gorgeous baby girl who he worshipped (and still does ), we got a house ... everything was perfect. When I got pregnant with Kydrun things started to quickly go down hill. It was an extremely difficult pregnancy and after I had him I got what I believe was post-pardum depression. No big deal right? Wrong. On top of already being an untreated manic depressive, the post-pardum and the hormones from the pregnancy sent me into a very fast downward spiral. The week that Kydrun was born Will was working 3 jobs, one full time and 2 part time. About a month after Kydrun was born he quit one of the part time jobs and picked up more hours at the other.

In my mind I knew I was going down but I was always taught that my depression was a choice that I made. So each morning I'd wake up and lie in bed for a moment and plan my day; "Today I'm going to clean the house, do the laundry and get dinner made for Will. Today I am going to make a different choice." I'd get downstairs and it would all fall apart. The only way to describe what I would see is to compare it to looking through a prism. One pair of shoes on the floor suddenly looked like 30 and it quickly got overwhelming and I found myself completely incapacitated. I'd go to bed every single night feeling like a complete failure because I got NOTHING done and had no idea where my day had actually even gone.

During this time Will was my savior, my keeper, my babysitter, my parent. He would get up at 4:30 or 5am, have to wear underwear and clothes that had been molded because I'd have great intentions and get them into the washer but not dry them for 3 or 4 days. He never said a word about it. He would have to make his lunch for his day and then go work hard at a physically challenging job. He'd come home at 4, have to clean the kitchen and do the dishes in order to fix dinner for the family because otherwise, none of us would eat. He'd have to go switch the laundry around and then dig through the piles of laundry on the couch and floor in the family room to find a wrinkled shirt and pair of pants to wear to job #2, where he'd go at 5pm and work until Midnight. He'd ride his bike to work since it was fairly close and so he wouldn't get home until 12:30 or so. Also during this time, I NEVER wanted to be touched, by ANYONE in any way. I didn't want to hold hands because it felt like my hand was big and swollen and it felt weird, I didn't want to be hugged or anything else so I continually rejected Will's attempts at comfort, reassurance and love ...over and over and over. This went on for YEARS with only two major changes: 1. I got noticeably worse, 2. Kydrun got burned and I had no choice but to act. For 6 years this is how our marriage was. Will loved me through it all, put up with my depression, me being incapacitated, rejecting him, working like a dog at two jobs to make ends meet (since I wasn't able to keep a job) and being the mother and father for our kids as well as the mother and father for his wife. He worked so hard, he sacrificed so much and never in all of that time did he say a word about it. But, he got tired, as any of us would. That is when he started to divorce me. He has been going through the emotional divorce process for a very long time. He went through the sadness and depression, the mourning of the loss of his feelings for me and our future, the anger that he's given so very much and gotten literally nothing in return. He went through all of this for a couple of years. THAT is why we are where we are now.

The thing that I am struggling the most with is the fact that it wasn't until I got properly medicated in April of 2007 that I finally came out of my fog. I was finally able to be a functional human being, a functional wife and mother. I was finally able to love Will the way he deserved to be loved, to take care of him the way he deserved to be taken care. The problem: it was too late. He had already emotionally divorced me. That is what is the hardest for me to take I think. I only got 18 months to love properly. I only got 18 months of an 8 year marriage to actually be a wife.

Will has been great in helping me through all of this with great understanding. I was unfair in saying that I thought he'd lost patience with me. Just having a grandiose pity party.

Will was a wonderful and fantastic husband whom I greatly respect and appreciate. That's part of why, well, it's mostly why I wish everyone would just back off of him. He gave and gave until he nearly bled to make sure I was happy. He gave me everything I wanted and took such good care of me. I'm just sorry I didn't give as much to him as he did to me for all of those years.