Stages of Grief: Depression

Spending the summer with my parents gave me a much needed reprieve. Their new home was in a tiny town and our life became slow and simple. I had limited responsibilities, very little communication with J, and almost no online time. I felt cut off from the rest of the world in the very best of ways. It was as if, for just 6 weeks, the earth stopped spinning and I was able to breathe for a while.

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A decade earlier, J had been vehemently opposed to going to counseling together. He only agreed after declaring that it would be solely for my benefit. He didn't need help. He didn't need to change. But obviously, I was miserable, so therapy would be for me.

We went. Things improved. I stopped blaming myself. I stopped hating God. I saw that the good in my husband was not a facade. I made a decision to stay. I stopped waiting for something terrible to happen and began to build our life once more.

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All this time, I thought that when he said he wouldn't get anything out of counseling, that it was just bravado. I thought that when our therapist said, "you can't go back" that she meant the both of us. I thought we were on a path together.

Now it seemed that I'd been walking that path alone.

I had changed, but I no longer felt that J had. I wasn't even sure that he wanted to. Realizing this-- that I could not force that in him, but that I could not live without it any longer-- filled me with intense sadness and a sense of helplessness.

What could I do but wait?

It was all out of my hands.

Tomorrow: Acceptance

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