I do not know the day I lost my husband. Was it when he lost his job in the recession? Another more innocuous moment? Was it a gradual erosion of his spirit, or just a moment that sucked him of his soul?
I've been with this man for two decades, but I have been dating someone for about four years. His name is Depression.
I don't know why Depression moved in. Was it genetic. Was it a chemical imbalance. Was it situational and is my husband stuck in a cycle. But the fact is, Depression is there, and he's not budging.
And we're working to kick him out.
I don't know what happened in that horrible moment a few weeks ago, when my husband broke his silence and admitted to his struggle of the last four years. And the darkness was deeper than I had ever dreamed.
We've been able to see his physician, get him counseling. But our war against Depression is a daily struggle. Some days getting out of bed is a struggle for him.
Yes, my home shows the scars of these last four years. Some day, the repairs will be completed, the clutter and chores overcome. Our bills from the moments when he didn't even process life will be eventually caught up too. One day, he'll be back in school, and we will be proud to call him a college graduate.
I worry though about the toll it takes on my kids. They see mommy's stress. They feel daddy's sadness. They are victims to the resulting chaos and the hectic juggle.
Some day, I'll be able to explain to them about Daddy beating Depression, and I hope they'll understand.