I married my husband three years ago, and we've known each other for 5 years. We met at a Christmas party and it's ironic that here it is Christmas
again, and I'm wondering how to survive in this relationship. I feel completely alone, and wonder why not just tell him to leave. Well, the simple answer
is, I have - repeatedly, and he does not leave. He, too, has threatened to leave me at least 100 times, but he does not leave. He has nowhere to go, and we
both know it.
My husband is charming, of course. He's intelligent, witty, funny, worldly, sexy, and fun...when he's in public. When he's home, he's cantankerous, extremely critical, bossy, an emotional bully, aggressive, manipulative, despondent, hyper, ill, and inept. He blames most of his problems on me.
V. is on anti-depressants, already. Most of the problems started going from bad to unbearable, however, when he weaned off Paxil and tried new (CITALOPRAM) meds. He's been on the new meds about 3 months, now, and it seems he's gotten worse -- well, not totally -- some days he's great. Last month, he met me at the door when I came in from work, with his apron on. He had shopped, cooked me a lovely gourmet dinner, and was prepared to provide me a full night of romantic attention. It was like we'd jumped back in time to the first 6 months of our relationship. I was happy for those 8 hours. Now it seems like a dream.
Here is how my last week went: First it snowed here in Seattle, which means the whole city comes to a standstill. Our city chooses not to salt streets, and this year didn't get the plows out quickly either (probably due to budgetary constraints). So, this meant if I were to get to work, I'd need to walk 7 blocks to the bus, take the bus to a transit station and change to another bus, go downtown, then walk another mile back to my job, which is in a location where buses aren't running. I did this for four days before the holiday came, leaving for work at 6AM and arriving home around 9PM. Each evening, I found V. where he usually resides, on the couch in front of the television. Each evening, he had something rude to bark at me, usually about being hungry, or that I was looking at him strangely, or that I failed to do something before leaving, or that I wasn't spending any time with him. Several times he asked for a divorce. On Christmas Eve, as I was leaving at 6AM, he yelled at me, calling me a f***ing b*****. Those are typical names he uses with me, but on this day, and in the spirits I was in, the words continued to ring through my ears most of the day. I was angry, hurt, and resentful and had to go put on a face of compassion and friendliness for patients at the medical clinic where I'm employed.
When I returned home, he was friendly and talkative. He was still on the couch, but he was at least someone I could be around again. Every time he has this countenance, these days, I celebrate. We have fun while it lasts, and then it just as quickly, goes away. Christmas day, he was angry again. He came downstairs, where I'd put a few gifts on a table for him, and he announced he felt terrible because he couldn't get me anything (he hasn't worked in months, and when he does, he earns enough to buy himself his addictions (coke, pot, cigarettes, gasoline for his car he drives around, and little woodworking gadgets for his hobby). I didn't expect anything, and I tried to ameliorate the situation by saying that the items I got him were small, and that we both had agreed our larger expense of a new kitten covered us for Christmas. When he heard the gifts were small, he abruptly stood up and left, going back to his sofa upstairs. Throughout the day, he'd come back to the main floor, stay a little while, then find a reason to be offended and leave again.
I wish I could say I was a real trooper and took this all in stride. I didn't. I feel hurt and resentful that I am holding everything together; paying for the rent, utilities, food, credit cards (his as well as mine), and doing all the cooking, cleaning, and caretaking, too. Being housebound by the snow hasn't helped, either. My grown sons couldn't make it for the Christmas we usually share, and their new wives told me (too late, I might add) that they didn't want to do gift exchanges because they were broke. I don't mind not getting gifts -- I'm used to that, having been a single mother for 15 years. But I bought them gifts with pleasure, and now they sit under the tree telling me that their bouncy bows and gaudy wrap mean nothing but controversy. Frankly, I feel fed up. So, I wasn't bouncing back from V's behavior, and eventually, I just went to bed early - thinking to myself, "Well, he does it all the time, so I may as well try it, too." He tried to get me up to watch a movie with him, and I refused. Now, we aren't talking to each other again. This morning, as I woke up up, he walked into the doorway (he never sleeps with me - he usually sleeps on couch, instead) and told me, "You never seem to like me anymore. Everything seems to affect you more seriously now, than before," and then he walked off. I believe he's right. I think my resilience is gone, and I am brittle, easily broken.
I told my doctor recently that I thought I was getting depressed, too. I have burning tongue syndrome that manifested about 2 years back, so I take Noritriptalyne to sleep, which she recently prescribed. She told me to keep taking that and see if it helped my mood. Obviously, it isn't.
I feel so alone. I don't have a partner. I feel stupid that I even married him, frankly. He exhibited extremely bad behavior even during our wedding -- getting resentful and then angry because I was spending so much time away from home (and tending to his needs) while arranging the event. He spent the day of the wedding calling me every hour, telling me he wanted to call it off (even as he was dressing and loading the car to come and put the ring on my finger). I was a mess. I couldn't stop crying and finally my son's wife gave me a pill for anxiety and I was calm enough to get through the wedding. After that, he was just fine. Happy even. I was still holding onto all the memories of how he'd interrupted the pre-wedding food-prep party the night before (my family was roasting a pig) and stood at the door screaming, "You f**** b***" until I broke into sobs in front of all my relations (all because he couldn't get hold of me while I was 40 miles away, arranging flowers for the event).
I have tried hard to understand the illnesses he faces. He has ADD and depression, so I'm told. I've researched a lot, and gone with him to his sessions, and we've done couples counseling, and I've done individual therapy (where the therapist suggested I leave him) and now he's in therapy. I've pointed out in the books where it says the pot interferes with treatment, and he knows this, but refuses to quit. He blames his feelings on me, then his behaviors follow. He believes the meds aren't quite right, but warns that trying for new ones will take another six months before they'll show any promise. I don't want to just quit on him, but I may be turning into a self-destructive martyr by staying.
Frankly, I just don't know what to do. He has no income, now...and really hasn't had much of one in all the time we've been together. He has a great degree from an Ivy League school, and he's very bright. But he has no work history beyond a few years, and he's in his mid-40's. I'm 10 years older, and I've worked since I was 16. But I finally am at a point in my career where I am earning a decent living, but with this rock around my neck, we are simply struggling like all the rest of the working poor. Feeding his addictions, likewise, is costly.
I don't know how to leave. I can't afford to find another place, and I can't get him to move out. And every time we get close -- like if he's packing his bags, I always ask him to stay. I don't know why anymore. I feel as crazy as him sometimes.
t.
My husband is charming, of course. He's intelligent, witty, funny, worldly, sexy, and fun...when he's in public. When he's home, he's cantankerous, extremely critical, bossy, an emotional bully, aggressive, manipulative, despondent, hyper, ill, and inept. He blames most of his problems on me.
V. is on anti-depressants, already. Most of the problems started going from bad to unbearable, however, when he weaned off Paxil and tried new (CITALOPRAM) meds. He's been on the new meds about 3 months, now, and it seems he's gotten worse -- well, not totally -- some days he's great. Last month, he met me at the door when I came in from work, with his apron on. He had shopped, cooked me a lovely gourmet dinner, and was prepared to provide me a full night of romantic attention. It was like we'd jumped back in time to the first 6 months of our relationship. I was happy for those 8 hours. Now it seems like a dream.
Here is how my last week went: First it snowed here in Seattle, which means the whole city comes to a standstill. Our city chooses not to salt streets, and this year didn't get the plows out quickly either (probably due to budgetary constraints). So, this meant if I were to get to work, I'd need to walk 7 blocks to the bus, take the bus to a transit station and change to another bus, go downtown, then walk another mile back to my job, which is in a location where buses aren't running. I did this for four days before the holiday came, leaving for work at 6AM and arriving home around 9PM. Each evening, I found V. where he usually resides, on the couch in front of the television. Each evening, he had something rude to bark at me, usually about being hungry, or that I was looking at him strangely, or that I failed to do something before leaving, or that I wasn't spending any time with him. Several times he asked for a divorce. On Christmas Eve, as I was leaving at 6AM, he yelled at me, calling me a f***ing b*****. Those are typical names he uses with me, but on this day, and in the spirits I was in, the words continued to ring through my ears most of the day. I was angry, hurt, and resentful and had to go put on a face of compassion and friendliness for patients at the medical clinic where I'm employed.
When I returned home, he was friendly and talkative. He was still on the couch, but he was at least someone I could be around again. Every time he has this countenance, these days, I celebrate. We have fun while it lasts, and then it just as quickly, goes away. Christmas day, he was angry again. He came downstairs, where I'd put a few gifts on a table for him, and he announced he felt terrible because he couldn't get me anything (he hasn't worked in months, and when he does, he earns enough to buy himself his addictions (coke, pot, cigarettes, gasoline for his car he drives around, and little woodworking gadgets for his hobby). I didn't expect anything, and I tried to ameliorate the situation by saying that the items I got him were small, and that we both had agreed our larger expense of a new kitten covered us for Christmas. When he heard the gifts were small, he abruptly stood up and left, going back to his sofa upstairs. Throughout the day, he'd come back to the main floor, stay a little while, then find a reason to be offended and leave again.
I wish I could say I was a real trooper and took this all in stride. I didn't. I feel hurt and resentful that I am holding everything together; paying for the rent, utilities, food, credit cards (his as well as mine), and doing all the cooking, cleaning, and caretaking, too. Being housebound by the snow hasn't helped, either. My grown sons couldn't make it for the Christmas we usually share, and their new wives told me (too late, I might add) that they didn't want to do gift exchanges because they were broke. I don't mind not getting gifts -- I'm used to that, having been a single mother for 15 years. But I bought them gifts with pleasure, and now they sit under the tree telling me that their bouncy bows and gaudy wrap mean nothing but controversy. Frankly, I feel fed up. So, I wasn't bouncing back from V's behavior, and eventually, I just went to bed early - thinking to myself, "Well, he does it all the time, so I may as well try it, too." He tried to get me up to watch a movie with him, and I refused. Now, we aren't talking to each other again. This morning, as I woke up up, he walked into the doorway (he never sleeps with me - he usually sleeps on couch, instead) and told me, "You never seem to like me anymore. Everything seems to affect you more seriously now, than before," and then he walked off. I believe he's right. I think my resilience is gone, and I am brittle, easily broken.
I told my doctor recently that I thought I was getting depressed, too. I have burning tongue syndrome that manifested about 2 years back, so I take Noritriptalyne to sleep, which she recently prescribed. She told me to keep taking that and see if it helped my mood. Obviously, it isn't.
I feel so alone. I don't have a partner. I feel stupid that I even married him, frankly. He exhibited extremely bad behavior even during our wedding -- getting resentful and then angry because I was spending so much time away from home (and tending to his needs) while arranging the event. He spent the day of the wedding calling me every hour, telling me he wanted to call it off (even as he was dressing and loading the car to come and put the ring on my finger). I was a mess. I couldn't stop crying and finally my son's wife gave me a pill for anxiety and I was calm enough to get through the wedding. After that, he was just fine. Happy even. I was still holding onto all the memories of how he'd interrupted the pre-wedding food-prep party the night before (my family was roasting a pig) and stood at the door screaming, "You f**** b***" until I broke into sobs in front of all my relations (all because he couldn't get hold of me while I was 40 miles away, arranging flowers for the event).
I have tried hard to understand the illnesses he faces. He has ADD and depression, so I'm told. I've researched a lot, and gone with him to his sessions, and we've done couples counseling, and I've done individual therapy (where the therapist suggested I leave him) and now he's in therapy. I've pointed out in the books where it says the pot interferes with treatment, and he knows this, but refuses to quit. He blames his feelings on me, then his behaviors follow. He believes the meds aren't quite right, but warns that trying for new ones will take another six months before they'll show any promise. I don't want to just quit on him, but I may be turning into a self-destructive martyr by staying.
Frankly, I just don't know what to do. He has no income, now...and really hasn't had much of one in all the time we've been together. He has a great degree from an Ivy League school, and he's very bright. But he has no work history beyond a few years, and he's in his mid-40's. I'm 10 years older, and I've worked since I was 16. But I finally am at a point in my career where I am earning a decent living, but with this rock around my neck, we are simply struggling like all the rest of the working poor. Feeding his addictions, likewise, is costly.
I don't know how to leave. I can't afford to find another place, and I can't get him to move out. And every time we get close -- like if he's packing his bags, I always ask him to stay. I don't know why anymore. I feel as crazy as him sometimes.
t.




