I resent my depressed wife
The only thing that I used to hate about my job was having to be away from home a couple of nights a week, but there are times now when I welcome it, though I would never say so to my wife, Katie. I miss my daughters, and hearing them chirp “goodnight” down the phone makes me feel bad. But then Katie comes on with a brave, long-suffering sigh and says “Don’t worry, we’re fine”, and it takes every effort not to snap at her and slam the phone down.
I know nothing about depression, but I’m starting to feel very resentful. I also feel that Katie’s milking it a bit. Our mothers worked long, hard hours while bringing up big families, but neither of them ever had the luxury of being depressed.
Where to start with that article. I guess this paragraph, mainly the first sentence and the last one sum it up.
I know nothing about depression
neither of them ever had the luxury of being depressed.
Luxury of being depressed? LUXURY? How had I missed that with Mammy2. She has the luxury of feeling like shit, of not wanting to get out of bed. And milking it, I can’t believe she’s been ‘milking’ her illness for all its worth. Wow, what an eye opener. Here I was reading up on depression, on the different kinds and how it not just affects the person, but also the immediate family, the partner, everything about their life. There are support groups out there, there are so many books on this. But sure why would you read a book about it if she’s milking it. The poor man just wants his wife to get over it, put on a happy face and be a good wifey again. Isn’t she lucky to have such a ‘wonderful’ and supportive husband.
Some people can’t just ‘get on’ with it. They try to, but sometimes its too hard. There are so many facets to the illness and its never just a case of getting on with it.
As one of the people who commented on the article said, its for better or for worse. I think some people conveniently forget that.
And this made me laugh
I can’t say anything about this as I’m scared it would trigger a relapse, whether real or imagined. Once, Katie got really angry at me and said that I simply wasn’t sensitive enough, which I resent enormously.
Really? Not sensitive enough? I don’t know where she got that idea.
