trileptal_tablets

Something happened back in 2009.

My joyless marriage to Millie was bottoming out. Early in the year, as I was falling into a deep and paralyzing depression, I was hospitalized with pneumonia and, a month later, hospitalized again with complications related to the pneumonia.

By the time summer rolled around, I was doing much better, although things with Millie were complicated by severe difficulties she was confronting with the arrival of a newborn granddaughter a long way from where we lived and the fact that two of her family members were terminally ill.

But something happened inside me that I’ll never figure out.  My bouts with depression, my falling into the black hole of energy-less paralysis, disappeared. As I write this paragraph in December, 2016, I am happy to report that the paralyzing depression I experienced in 2009 — and it was similar to bouts I had experienced over the previous thirty to thirty-five years — was my last incident to date.

It’s been a remarkable development. Every morning I wake up and I’m not greeted by the waterlogged duvet of heaviness that I used to feel during bouts of depression. My temperament has evened out — I almost never have flashes of frustration or, as I’ve come to believe I used to experience, flashes of overwhelming fear.

No one at home, or in my family,  is on eggshells around me any longer because I’m no longer given over to brief fits of panic or instant, teeth gnashing frustration. I never did anyone physical harm when these outbursts occurred, but their unpredictability and suddenness darkened my married life and my family life.

My condition contributed mightily to the joylessness of our marriage.

As more days passed without bouts of depression, and as I was spending less and less time walled off in my bedroom, sleeping or avoiding human contact, I suddenly realized, in the spring of 2012, that I wanted to stop hassling Millie about things, thinks like money, our sexless life, remembering to do things, messing up the house, and other stuff I hassled her about. I didn’t exactly utter this commitment out loud, but made a promise within myself that I was going to trust that things in my life with Millie were going to work out and that hassling Millie never made anything better, but, in fact, poisoned things between us.

I’ve kept this promise. Our life together gets sweeter and sweeter. No haranguing. No riding Millie’s ass. No digs. No bossing Millie around. I’ve all but lost the compulsion I once had to think I could improve our life together by exercising more control over our day to day lives.

Our joyless marriage is no longer joyless. We often sit in welcome, not cold, silence for long periods of time and we just as often sit and tell stories, laugh bout absurd things we’ve observed or read about or experienced, and try to figure out where our lives are headed.

One more thing. Well over a year ago, I needed a refill of the prescription I was taking to treat my mood swings, to treat whatever level of bi-polarity I had been suffering from. My primary care doctor wouldn’t authorize the refill until I paid a psychiatrist a visit.

I made an appointment with a local psychiatric nurse practitioner and told her that I was interested in trying to figure out if possibly I no longer needed the medicine I’d been taking.

We talked. At the end of our conversation, she told me that she was not that impressed with my claims to being even mildly bi-polar and she was in full agreement that it might be time to wean me off the drug.

I lessened my dosage. There were no ill effects. I revisited the N.P. and she agreed it was time to go off the medicine entirely. After a few months of not taking the medicine, I visited her again, and reported, again, no ill effects.

I was done taking this prescription.

I continue to live free of the pressure and torment of depression. I don’t know why or how this happened back in 2009, but this freedom has not only helped me live my days more happily, it has helped reverse much of the misery of my once joyless marriage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Depression Wrecking Ball

September 16, 2009

bipolar

I suffer from clinical depression.

It’s a wrecking ball, especially destructive of marital joy.

If my bouts with depression were confined to being bummed out, or periods of sadness, I doubt they would have had the wrecking ball impact on the joy of our marriage they’ve had.

But that’s not the case.

In its more sinister forms, depression can manifest itself in paranoia, temper tantrums, enraged outbursts, panic attacks and other expressions of groundless fear, anxiety, and anger.

In my case, these outbursts come out of nowhere, are attached to meaningless things, and scare the hell out of my current wife and scared the hell out of my previous ones.

Thirty years ago, I punched a spider web in our car’s windshield because my first wife bit into a cookie as we were taking off to see her in-laws.

I have suddenly, irrationally, without warning raged at my first wife drinking orange juice from a mug instead of a glass; I’ve jumped two feet off the ground in purple anger because my second wife thought I should be making some phone calls about a publication I was editing sooner than later; I turned purple and screamed in the face of a girlfriend because she spoke ill of a former student of mine who’d been subleasing her apartment.

Over ten years ago, I was laid out by the flu and was resting comfortably in bed, getting ready to either listen to the NCAA basketball final on the radio or watch it on television.

Millie came home from a day of work and burst into the bedroom to see how I was and started opening a window in the room.

God, and I mean God, only knows why this set me off.  My teeth clenched, my face reddened, turning toward purple, my body shook, and I yelled at her to stop.  It was my mental illness taking over, battling with panic and rage against the suffocating feeling that I was being controlled, that Millie was trying to run my life, do what I she thought I couldn’t do myself; or deciding I needed windows open..and, in my diseased mind, if I’d wanted them opened, I’d have done it myself (even though I was laid out flat with the flu).

That moment froze Millie’s libido and it’s never thawed.

She’s told me as much.  I so shocked and frightened her with this panicked, angry, irrational, sick outburst that she has never been able to give herself over to having anything like uninhibited sex with me.

And so began, as I see it, our slow descent into joyless marriage.

I’ve worked hard to deal with and treat my depression.  Medication has helped a lot.  Conversational therapy, less so.  I have never worked with a therapist who seemed to work with me as an individual.   The therapists I’ve talked with always see me as part of what “studies show”.  I’ve never believed the therapist was addressing my unique psychological or emotional make up, but addressed me as a part of some trend, or as a series of abstracted symptoms.

Treating the depression has worked and not worked.  The purple-faced outbursts have almost gone away.  If it hadn’t been for a panic attack when my dog went after Millie’s dog a couple of weeks ago, I’d be pretty clean for the last several months, if not the year.

But, it’s not just the outbursts.  Depression wears me out.  I’m often fatigued and nap often.   My fatigue and the time I spend sleeping or lying down, often while working or writing, really bothers Millie and sucked more joy from our marriage.

Both my teeth-clenching, frightening outbursts and my struggles with fatigue have widened the distance between me and Millie.

As long as Millie feels disturbed, distrustful, angry, ripped off, disillusioned, and distanced by how my mental illness affects me, and her, I don’t see how we can have anything but a joyless marriage.

Sex Buddies

September 15, 2009

sex chart

Many, many years ago Sarah’s marriage was falling apart and mine already had.

We were really good friends and seized the opportunity presented by our failed marriages to become sex buddies.

It was the best sex of my life and lasted for just over a year.

It was misleading, though.

For both me and Sarah, sex was not only a way to have fun together and become even better friends, it was a means of relieving the stress of our marital difficulties.  We experienced sex as a retreat, as a way to not only escape our troubles, but to help build each other’s esteem.

I loved this way of having sex.  We both knew that one day our sex buddy time would end, that we really were not cut out for a relationship that involved getting involved in each other’s business, but we were ecstatic to enjoy the time we had.

Why was it misleading?

Well, Sarah spoiled me.

When we stopped being sex buddies and got involved in other relationships, I went into these other relationships thinking that these other women would also look to sex with me as a way to relieve stress, as a means of comforting one another, and as a way of having at least a brief interlude of fun and mutual affection in the midst of otherwise difficult times.

It’s never happened again.

Millie and I haven’t had sex,I mean intercourse, in, well,I’m sure it’s been almost ten years.  I honestly don’t remember the last time, but I do remember being naked together on an afternoon not long after 9/11 that was wonderful, but we didn’t have sex and I remember Millie coming on strong to me a couple of times when we were drunk and I couldn’t perform.   These incidents were at least seven, if not eight, years ago.

I’ve learned that when she’s under any level of duress, Millie cannot surrender herself to sex.

It’s pretty much that simple and over the last several years, thanks to family illnesses, kids having accidents, pressures at work for Millie, and other points of stress and duress, Millie’s libido died.

It’s odd.  For me, if I’ve had a tough day at work, with conflict, too much work and too little time, or if I’ve had to participate in a painful or tedious meeting, coming home, relaxing with Millie, becoming playful, seducing each other, having the evening climax with sex would be a perfect way to let go of the work place, surrender myself to playfulness and fun, and relieve the tension.

Not Millie.  The stress gnaws at her, tightens her up, and makes having fun with each other nearly impossible.

Millie unwinds by drinking some whiskey or wine.

In the past, the booze would sometimes loosen her up to feel relaxed enough to play in bed, but about eight to ten years ago that disappeared.

For me, not making love in the midst of stress has heightened my sense of stress, anxiety, and fatigue. By masturbating, I can bring myself to orgasm, thus having the physical sensation of pleasure and release, but it’s a poor substitute for making love with my wife.

I married Millie so we could become mates in the life of the mind and spirit.

I married Millie so we could be sex buddies, too.

That hasn’t worked out.  I don’t think it ever mattered that much to Millie.  I see sex as central to marriage and a long term relationship.

To Millie, it seems insignificant.

Having a sexless marriage contributes significantly to our joyless marriage.

I Love My Wife

September 15, 2009

remote

So here’s the deal.

I live in a joyless, sexless, flat marriage with a remote wife.

And I love her.

I don’t want a divorce.  For starters, I’ve been down the divorce road before and I hate the experience.  I don’t want to have to figure out the division of money, pension, belongings, any of that.

And I love Millie.  I’ve committed my life to her.  I hate the idea of breaking that commitment and the suffering that would ensue.  I’m also faithful to her.  My fidelity has cost me some of the excitement and pleasure I wish I had in my life, but my conscience is clear and that matters more to me than excitement.  I might even mean more to me than joy.

My love for Millie isn’t romantic, but if she took one small step toward me, romantically, I’d love to have romantic fun again.  Even after eight or nine years of sexless existence and even thought we haven’t shared a kiss in at least five years, I still feel romantically and sexually attracted to my wife.

I don’t act on this attraction because Millie rejects my advances and I’ve quit making them.

So I don’t play out my love for Millie in the sexy, exciting ways I might hope for.  I’ve surrendered to the fact that I may never have sex again and that Millie and I might very likely live out our lives frigidly.

We have, however, built a life of shared responsibility to things that are larger than whether we have fun or do exciting things.

And, now that I think more about it, it may be in these responsibilities and in some of the more Platonic elements of our marriage where some semblance of  joy exists.

For example, we have three adult children (step-children for me, another complication) and two of the three are struggling to find their footing.  Mitzy is a new mother and has almost no money, but a very healthy baby.  Ted took several years to graduate from college and now that he’s done, he’s unemployed, has financial obligations he can’t meet, and lives in our basement.

Mitzy’s future will improve when her husband enlists in the Army and begins to earn a regular, livable income.

Millie and I have worked together to help Mitzy and her husband stay afloat with the birth of their new baby.  Millie did the heavy lifting when she stayed Mitzy and her husband for around two weeks around the time the baby was born and lit a fire under the two of them to get their shit together.  It was hard exhausting work for Millie.  That’s Millie’s way.  She’s fiercely devoted to her children and Mitzy needed a lot of help, much of it painful and exhausting, and Millie stuck her nose in the middle of it, at a cost.  The experience of the baby being born, the parents being almost totally unprepared, and helping the parents deal with bureaucracies, paperwork, things broken down, an empty pantry frayed Millie’s nerves.  It exhausted her.

I don’t know if Millie valued my support from back here at home.  She hasn’t said much.

I love Millie for her fierce love of her children and I love supporting her children, even as they frustrate me when they are knuckleheads.

Millie is also highly intelligent and when we talk about things related to our work as teachers or to the world at large or talk about the world of music, writing, creativity and other things we care about, it’s very stimulating.  When we have these conversations, our marriage, for a short period of time, feels less joyless.

It’s no small thing to love a person the way I love Millie, for her devotion, principles, hard work, intelligence, insight, artistic gifts, generosity toward friends and children, and honesty.

Taken together, these things I love fuel my physical desire for Millie, as does my memory of her skin, the way she smells, her eyes, her mouth, the way her body feels in my hands, and the enjoyment of kissing every inch of her.

Sex, with Millie, for me, was a consummation of all these ways I love Millie, and I hunger for this consummation.

Millie doesn’t.

I think she finds some relief that we are financially able to support the children.  She enjoys a laugh with me once in a while.  Sometimes she enjoys when we talk.

But, by and large, Millie walls herself off.

It adds much weight to our joyless marriage.