Day to day things are hard

 Wow, so just realized my last post was in January, and it's now March.

Despite all my hard work to keep things together and keep that smile pasted on my face, everyday things are hard, and making it through each of them is harder. 

Yes, I do have a lot to live for and to be grateful for, oh lord do I! but that doesn't lessen the struggle. 

I have a family, a loving partner, and a healthy, happy, growing baby girl. I am working on my own company so that I can work from home and be a "present parent" for her. But, when you have gone through years and years of negativity directed at you,  you still feel like it's not enough. You are not enough. 

I have just published my first book. And I have just completed a project for someone who paid me to write. I should be ecstatic, but I feel like an imposter. The work wasn't good enough; the book isn't good enough; I have failed my family. His voice echoes in my head, "You're pathetic. What makes you think you can do this? What makes you think that people aren't just saying nice things to get you to go away?" These are all real things. Though I try everything to silence them, they are still there. Quieter, yes, but there. 

My partner tells me daily that I am doing an amazing job, raising our daughter, keeping the house clean, food on the table, and the budget in place. Looking for clients, publishing a book, making a HUGE career change. He tells me that he loves me, how amazing I am as a person and a mother. He is genuine and sincere in what he tells me, and he tells me because it's true, and it's important for him to remind me of these things. Never has there been any hint that he feels like it is a burden to shower me with affection and reassurance. But the voice in my head tries to tell me that it's a lie. He does feel like it's a burden to remind the pathetic failure how much he loves me etc, etc. 

Every day I get up, tired after a restless night of worrying. I get up thinking, "what am I going to screw up today?" and yet, I don't. I don't screw up anything. I make it through successfully and I should feel triumphant. Maybe one day I will. One day I will accept it, but till then, each day I battle the voice and win.  

Echos of the past.

 The one thing I have come to realize is that the past will always haunt you. It doesn't matter how much therapy you go to, how much personal growth you have, or for some people, how much you drink or how high you get. The past will always be there. 

A great monkey once said "The past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it"

The truth in this statement hurts on many levels. 

I have overcome so many things, but the one thing I have not been able to conquer is the voice in my head, his voice in my head. Though it may be quieter than before, the words are still there. 

"You are worthless", "No one will ever love you", "You can never be a good mother, your child will hate you and resent you from the moment it's born".  

The trick is to accept that this will always be there, the voice and the negative thoughts, but it's how you deal with it now and move on that determines your strength and how you choose to keep living. And keep living you will. 

Every day I look at my life and remind myself of what I have achieved, what I have to show that I am better than what he said. My baby, my partner, my home, and my job. The fact that I can get up every day and live my life to its fullest. One day, maybe I can find the mute button on his voice, but for right now, I make sure that my life is louder than him.  

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

The road ahead is not always bump free

 It's official, I am divorced. He is in another country and I have started to move on. 

To be fully open, this post is written a few years AFTER my last one. The divorce was finalized 4 years ago (yes, it has taken me this long to be able to fully open up) my Poly Partner and I have broken up, but, this was all on good terms and for a good reason. 

It wasn't long before I began to feel that while poly had been a good idea at the time, I wasn't really able to juggle multiple relationships. I had gotten out of a bad one, and I was still dealing with the aftermath of it. My poly partner and his wife were both understanding and supportive, but I personally began to feel that I was a burden to them. Was this echos of the past, very very probably. I didn't want to put any strain on them in any way. So, we parted on good terms. 

I took some time to find "me". But I was lonely, I wasn't used to being on my own. So I started dating again. I spoke to several people, but couldn't connect. All I could hear was his voice, constantly telling me I was worthless.  

Finally, I did meet someone, instantly he made me laugh and feel at peace. We started dating, taking things slowly, he had been in some "questionable" relationships himself, cheating partners, two-faced women, too high maintenance. He's so laid back and relaxed, life is too short to be a serious kinda guy, 

It did take me a while to open up about my past. I was honest and I had told him that I had been in a mentally abusive marriage. He never once pushed me about it, he was respectful and said that when I was ready, he would listen. What he did do (and still does to this day) and it still takes me by surprise, is he treats me with respect. We discuss everything when we are making decisions about things, he encourages me to do what I want to do, just like I encourage him. If I'm sick, he takes care of me. Things that I had not had before. He makes me laugh, feel secure, and like I can do anything. BUT. He also knows that I have issues. 

To this day, I still find myself apologizing for something, and it can be the smallest of things. for example, if I had made soup for dinner, and I tell him it's hot, he then goes and burns his mouth, I will spend a good five minutes or more just constantly apologizing, fetching water, cooling the soup, offering to make him something else. I know I don't have to, I know it was him just not listening (and he will tell me it was his fault) but I'm compelled to apologize. I can't stop it. He knows this, and he will hug me, laugh with me and tell me he loves me. There is no judgment, no laughing at me, no shouting for making him burn his mouth. There is reassurance and love. 

The biggest issue I had, was when we were trying for a baby. Here I am with this amazing man, someone who has helped me overcome so much over the years, and who wants to start a family with me. So what's wrong? Not fertility, we are both good on that front. Not the lack of trying. Yes, we both have stress in our lives (Working in a pandemic, for example, we are both essential workers) but it was something else. 

I was worthless.

I would be a horrible mother.

The baby would abort itself when it found out I was the mother.

It was his voice. Again. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

The steps to recovery

 Canada – The next chapter. 

Since then, my sister has been to the house to get more of my things. He still had the cat and rabbit, and when he finally understood that this was it (I had told him I was speaking to lawyers (I was) and a therapist) he demanded that I came to get them as well as he would stop caring for them. I said it would take me a week to make arrangements, and he was not to be in the house when I did go. He was at work on the day I went to pick them up. The cat came home with me, but the rabbit went to our friends' house. I was trying to find a foster home for him as I couldn’t take him back to my parents' house. When he found out, I got more aggressive texts and emails. I ignored them too. 

I got more of my stuff, as much as I could get in the car, and left. There are still a few more items in the house, and I will go back to get them soon. I am also still paying all the bills for the house, I had asked him to make a set payment for each paycheck of less than $900 – he informed me that he was in financial ruin. So I agreed he could pay less. I am paying $1100 a paycheck. We both get paid biweekly. He works in the town where we lived, I now have a 4 hour round trip drive to work. I can't afford gas or food. But I was financially ruining him. These payments will stop once I have a lawyer paid and behind me.

I am also having to file for bankruptcy. This is a new development seeing as he lost his job. He is blaming everyone else for that, the fact is, it was his doing. He committed time fraud for a staff member (without her knowledge) sexual harassment in and out the workplace (he was taking his frustration of me leaving out on his staff, in and out of work, the texts made me feel sick (I was told about some of them)) and refusing to meet the terms of his contract. He never attended meetings, always blamed his depression and anxiety, HR had tried to accommodate him, but missing the last three-day meeting I think was the final straw. But, he stated (openly on social media) that it was because he was stabbed in the back by a “friend”. He then went on this social media campaign of hatred for me and my friend. He has been blocked by several people now. However, since he has lost his job, we will default on the mortgage payments as I certainly cannot afford that as well as everything else. So I have to file. 

Once I have filed for bankruptcy, then I can file for divorce. 

Even though I still know in my heart that this is the right choice, the stress of having to deal with him makes me physically sick. Sleep eludes me and dreams haunt me. I go to do something, and his voice echo’s in my ears. I have stopped enjoying something’s because I can hear his voice telling me I’m worthless, ugly, repulsive and a waste of time.  Although I no longer live with him, the abuse is so deeply ingrained that I have lost all self-confidence and self-worth. My happy face is painted on. 

The only times I feel I can relax, and try to sort myself out, is with my boyfriend. He has never once let me down, and is standing by me, and is my rock. I cannot bring myself to tell him everything about how I feel. He is in school and has his own stress to deal with. We might not spend as much time together at the moment as we would both like, but I value the time we do get. Our weekends together are the only thing I can look forward to, as during the week I’m trying to deal with bankruptcy and divorce and living in fear of him contacting me. 

There was one time, my boyfriend was talking to me about having kids. His wife needs to get pregnant first, but then his thoughts about after. His words washed over me as all I could hear in my head was “you will never have kids, why would anyone want them with you? You’re pathetic and a waste of time and space. You’re repulsive and no one in their right mind would want to be with you for that” He never said all of those words, but they were implied on so many occasions, and never denied it when confronted. I had to try and process so many emotions as my boyfriend was talking, joy and happiness that he had even thought about it, pain and distress with the words in my head. The sick feeling was rising in my stomach. I had to ask him to stop and change the subject before I burst into tears. I still haven’t been able to explain this to him. This is just one of the many situations where his abuse ruins me. 

Thanks to everything he put me through; there is not a day that goes by, where I don’t hear the voice in my head. Sometimes it's quieter, sometimes it screams and screams. This is something that I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I hope that I can learn to lock it in a box and throw away the key, learn from mistakes and signals, and not allow this to happen again. It will be a long battle. All I know is that I am damaged. Mentally and emotionally I feel unstable. I am happy that I have left, and I know I will be strong enough to get through the divorce and everything else. I'm hoping that by this time next year when all is done, I can move on and work on myself a little more. I know I have the love and support of my boyfriend, and also my girlfriend (this is a very new relationship) and it does make things easier. I can enjoy myself a little, and when I’m with my boyfriend, I can sleep a little more. But the voices are still there.

The most important thing I have learned is to talk. Talk to someone about what’s happening. I spoke to a therapist through my employer as well as friends. Each friend knows something else. Not one person really knows the whole story. I find that it’s easier for me that way. But, also being a writer, this blog series is another way to get it out and try to deal with things. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

And then.....I left.

 Canada –The end, the night I left. 

It was the Labor Day weekend in September. We had planned to spend the weekend together, but then he got called into work. So I made arrangements to see my boyfriend. I was going to see him on Saturday, stay over and come home Sunday. We would then spend Sunday and Monday together. The Friday night, he begged me to change my plans and not go. I had already said that I would never cancel last minute, and if he wanted me to change my plans, then a few days' notice was needed. It was a habit of his to demand that I cancel at the last minute, sometimes as I walked out the door, didn’t matter who I was seeing. I put my foot down and said no. He yelled, made comments like “now I know where your priorities are, who you value more” my reply was simple “yes, me!” and he cried lots, all tricks I had begun to wise up to. I still said no. 

Saturday morning I left to go see my boyfriend. I texted him when I got there so he knew I was safe and got a lovely text back saying have fun. The weekend was amazing. When I left Sunday, I had texted to say I was stopping at my other friend as I had something for her, this was ok and allowed. I finally got home about eleven at night, I had stayed longer than planned with my friends as we got chatting. She texted to say it was her fault and I was on the way home. When I got in, he was in bed. I tried to be quiet, but he turned the light on and laid into me, yelling and screaming about how dare I be out so long, what right did I have to ignore him, and other comments. 

I broke. I sat on the bed and told him I was done and I was leaving. As I packed up some things, he kept yelling, how can it be over? I didn’t say it could be over! Fine, pack and leave whore. What more can I do to keep you here when you don’t want to be? 

His words washed over me as I packed and left. I went back to my friend's house while I tried to reach my parents. I was going to move back in with them. I told my friend what had happened, but she already knew as he was harassing her by text as I was leaving. The texts to her were not nice and certainly not friendly. I had also texted my boyfriend to say I had finally left him. He wanted to ensure I was ok and offered me a place to stay. I said no, but I would see him the next day if that was ok. 

I finally ended up at my parents' house by one in the morning. We talked for a bit and I realized that I was not upset or devastated. I wasn’t angry or hurt. I was happy. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, and I slept so well that night, better than I had for months. I went and spent Monday with my boyfriend and his wife, we had a fantastic day. It was happy and filled with love. I took a few days off work to try and figure out what I needed to do. There was a lot to consider, but I knew I was not and could not go back to him, not under any circumstances. I did go back to the house on Tuesday to get the dog and more clothes and personal items. I asked him not to be there, but he was. He did stay out of my way as my sister was with me. But I knew he wanted to talk and try to get me back again. It was a few days later that the texts started. “we need to talk, even if this really is the end, we should talk” “I'm trying to give you space, but this is ridiculous” “come home, this is where you should be, not anywhere else” etc. Etc. I wouldn't let him get to me, I was civil in my replies, and asked him to stop. Then I just started to ignore them. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

The downward spiral, leading to the ending.

 Canada –Nearing the end The next 12 months

He was struggling with work. He would get up every day and go in, being the manager, his authority issues subsided a little. He still had the area manager to report to, but it’s a small store in a small city, so he was left alone a lot. However, the company requires that its management staff attend regular meetings. Sometimes they were only a day, sometimes they were three days. He never attended. His anxiety of long drives and his depression became his shield. He would take days off to be “sick” to avoid going. 

These were the days he would go out of his way to put me down and make me feel less than worthless. I would make dinner and be told that he hated it before even trying it, or I would get asked “how long have we been together? And you still don’t know I hate this? Are you fucking stupid?” and it could be something as simple as spaghetti on toast (Which he would always eat at his mother's) or he would say something and if I didn’t hear him, he would shout comments like “you deaf cow, fucking listen to me” or “why don’t you pay attention when I’m talking to you?” and  “If you think you have a hearing problem, deal with it yourself, do not make me repeat myself over and over” Thing is, a lot of the time I couldn’t hear him because his back was to me as he is laying on the floor playing video games, or playing music really loudly and he would mutter or mumble. Almost felt like it was deliberate just so he could yell at me. I would say something; tell him that if he turned down the music, or turned to face me, then there would be no problem. However, that would lead to a big fight and it ended with me feeling even worse and that he was right when he said “it’s your fault I’m shouting and getting upset with you” of course it was. Everything was my fault.

At other times, I would get snide comments, something about the way I looked, or the way I did something. We could be having a conversation about anything at all, and I would be accused of starting a fight and arguing with him when we were agreeing on the same subject. The comment “one of these days you will listen to me and I will be so fucking surprised” was said. There would be bile in the words and a look of disgust all over his face. What had I done? I was agreeing with him, and it turned into a fight and then I was the most disgusting, disappointing creature on the face of the planet in his eyes. And these things happened daily. Eventually, work didn’t need to be a reason to put me down, just breathing and being in the same room as him was enough of a reason. 

There was also no love in the house either. He would get so excited to see his girlfriends that he couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I would get a kiss in the beginning, but that was it. Yes, we had to work out some bugs in the Poly department, how often should we stay in contact with each other, house rules, etc. but that was never the issue. 

When we were both home at the same time, which was usually during the week, I would have to ask him to cuddle me in bed. I would have to initiate a kiss or anything else. He would lay there, huffing because he had to put his iPad down, and his arms would lay by his side. I would curl into him and get nothing. We did occasionally have some moments, but it was more about him getting me to give him release than anything else between us. I stopped getting that release from him altogether. Then the comments started in regards to that as well. He walked into the bedroom once to find me pleasuring myself. He simply looked at me and said “when you’re done, make me a sandwich” and closed the door. Other times I would invite him to join in and I was told “I really don’t want to. Just go do it yourself” I found I was apologizing for taking some me time. Slowly I stopped doing that as well. 

If I tried to talk to him about sex and if we could or not, he would just blame his medication. He would say that it was preventing him from being able to. And then twenty minutes later I had aroused him and made him finish using my hand. That seemed to be all that he wanted. The idea of having sex was me seemed to disgust him. 

Slowly we stopped talking to each other. I would fall asleep on the sofa or be playing games on my phone. He would be on the computer or watching TV and we didn’t speak. If we did, it was small talk. Anything to avoid a fight. I would still go to see my boyfriend at the weekends, it was the only time I could feel loved and wanted. And safe.  I dreaded the drive home. When I got home I would be greeted with more shouting and put-downs, about how I was never there to look after him, how I was selfish to want free time and time to myself. How he had to order pizza cause there was no dinner cooked for him. The best one once was “My date and I had a great time, but then I came home and you were not there so I could tell you how much better than you they are”

One day I snapped. This was in April. He was shouting at me about the same old things and I lost it. I was tired of being put down, made to feel like I was less than the crap on the bottom of his shoe. I shouted back. I told him everything and made a point of stating that these are all things I have said to him before, but he hadn’t listened. I told him how he made me feel, how unhappy I was, how pathetic I felt. I remember he laughed at me at one point and told me I was stupid and that it was all in my head, that I was imagining it all. I collected the dog, and overnight bag and I left. I was done. I couldn’t and wouldn’t take it anymore. I drove to my mother’s house and spent the weekend there. By the end of the weekend, and texts from him, I went back to talk. He said all the right things, apologized, talked about having kids, and following our dreams. So I stayed. The first week was great. Things seemed to improve. There was a genuine effort being made, more by him, but that was what I needed. We still didn’t have sex, but I wanted to work on everything else first. By the second week, things were going back to normal. The silence and the lack of affection, the comments, and the unwillingness to help in the house. This has been another factor, I was happy to be the housewife, but as I worked too I wanted some help. He would complain and huff if I asked him to help. And then he would yell at me saying he would do things in his own time, not mine. Months could go by and he still hadn’t done what I had asked. But then if I go ahead and do it a few days later, I would be yelled at for doing it. I’m sorry if the garbage needed to go out for collection and couldn’t wait any longer……….

It was about two months later another fight took place. All the same issues and all the same concerns and I left again.  I was away for a bit longer this time. But again, I went back, having been talked into it, with the same promises. Only this time there were comments like “I never thought I would get married, it would have to take someone really special, and that was you.” He was very good at manipulation. Again, the family and having children were brought up (by him) but that was another false promise. This time things lasted two weeks. I had made it a condition of my return that things would have to be continually improving and he had a month to show me he could change, if not, then that was it. If he could, then I would give him another month and essentially review things month by month. I was also becoming close to a mutual friend of ours. She was going through some issues of her own, so we would talk to each other and help each other. After a week or so, this was a problem for him. I didn’t need to see her twice a week, why was she my friend anyway? What had she done for me? (he had said this about another friend, and I stopped seeing her) he would complain and make me feel like crap for going out and then worse when I came home. This was not improving, but rather, it was getting worse. I ended up feeling like a prisoner in my own home. I almost felt like apologizing for having a social life and friends. Something he didn’t have. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

The big move and the next four and a half years

 Canada – the beginning of the end? The next four and a half years

We were living in my parents’ house. We had the basement area – one bedroom, a small living room, and a bathroom. My dad still had (and still has) his own office there too, but he always kept his door shut. As I had moved over first, I wanted to make sure I could have everything ready for when he joined me. I set about trying to get furniture organized, a TV, adaptors so he could bring his game console. Little things like that. In the future, we would also have our own phone line and satellite. I was also dealing with the rabbits' quarantine and working. By the time he joined me, I had a routine in place. I was at work early in the morning, so I would get an early night. He is more of a night owl, and so I would get the occasional comment about not spending any time together. So I stayed up later and later. I was tired at work, but we were spending time together. 

I had also become used to being on my own, so his first weekend here, my parents went away so that we could have the house to ourselves, and I found that, well, I really wasn’t comfortable with him. I didn’t know what had happened. But I almost felt like I had to fall in love with him again. I had to almost force myself to enjoy his touch and company. When my parents came back, I actually asked my mother not to leave us alone again as he irritated me, making demands as to where to go and what to do. It didn’t take long though, to get past that and remember how much I loved him. I still wanted to be his wife, and have a life and family together. 

It took him some time to find a job. This was hindered by the fact that my parents’ house is out in the middle of nowhere, so you have to drive. At this point, he still didn’t. So he had the pressures of 1) not driving, 2) Moving to another country, where he knew no one. 3) No money as he needed a job and 4) living with my parents. People he had only met once (well, my mother twice) He did struggle, found a couple of jobs, but they didn’t last. Either he felt less of a man as he was a cashier in a supermarket, or the manager was an idiot and didn’t know what they were doing (he had always had an issue with authority, but I overlooked it as just his personality type in the workplace). Eventually, he found a job that he was good at and enjoyed. However, due to the hours, I meant that my mother drove him to work, and then I would pick him up at three in the morning. And his shifts rotated, so it wasn’t a regular routine of hours. This resulted in my sleep pattern being all messed up, especially when he would say that we just haven’t seen each other a lot, or that he missed me. 

Eventually, though I adjusted and was able to support him again and work, and work towards our new life together. We had two wages coming in, so we bought a car. He started working on getting his driver’s license, but it appeared that he suffered from severe anxiety, made much worse by driving. I did everything I could, researched it, came up with techniques to help him cope, found people for him to speak to. I even took him out in the car myself to teach him to drive. It took months and months, but eventually, he took the test and passed. I still took more time before he was comfortable driving on his own, especially at night. But he got there. Then the issue became that I was sleeping when he would get home. I had been at work from nine to six with over an hour’s drive each way, and he got home at three in the morning. So, I would nap in the evening and be awake with dinner for him for when he got home. Only, he would get home and go straight to bed and sleep. It would take me a while to settle and get back to sleep, usually an hour before my alarm would go off. Life was far from perfect, but it felt like it could get there. We just had to make do until we had the money to move out. Only, once again we would spend. We would buy things to make us happy. Games consoles, games and food, lots of food. Food became the center of everything we did. If we went out anywhere, he would plan the trip around which restaurants were in the area. Or we would make special trips to import stores because he missed home. And I drove. I always drove. 

Still, this was all leading up to our perfect life and family. We still talked about having children. He would get all excited and eager. Even if it wasn’t the best time and I was still on the pill. I was on the pill for cramps. They are excruciating and would leave me useless and sick for a few days. But we had names picked out for the children and everything. 

Then things changed. The hours and stresses of work were beginning to get to him. So he started to look for another job, closer to home, with more money and better hours. This was supposed to be a change for the better. And he did find a job that ticked all the boxes. So he left his current job and took the new one. And our perfect life took a back seat for the next three years. 

The new job was not as advertised. Until he completed training, he was not going to get paid. And if he didn’t pass the exam at the end of the training, then he didn’t get the job. Although he had been offered and had accepted the position. His issues with authority surfaced again and he quit. He then spent his days at home while I worked. I would get texts asking me to pick things up on the way home, fizzy drinks, chocolate, takeout. I loved all these things too so I was very happy to get them. Yes, being diabetic, I really shouldn’t be eating and drinking all this, but he wanted/needed it, so I bought it, and if it was in the house, I would eat and drink it too. The temptation was too great. My health then began to get out of control, but that was my issue to deal with, not his. So nothing changed. I would get the occasional comment, without sincerity, asking if I was ok, but nothing changed to help me. 

The longer he was out of work, the worse it got. And then he was diagnosed with depression. I had suspected for a while, but he would refuse to admit that there was an issue or seek help. He would spend his days locked in the bedroom, in bed, and under the covers. He stopped coming up for family meals and stopped going outside. He would cry a lot and tell me to leave him alone unless I had food or fizz for him. It took a lot of my strength to get him through each day. And to carry on working and functioning as if everything was normal. By the time he was threatening suicide, I was finally able to convince him to see the doctor. By this time, I had missed a lot of work, and so my job was on the line. When he started his medication, things got a little easier; I was able to go back to work. We still talked constantly throughout the day; I became a support blanket for him. He tried to go for job interviews, but when he was unsuccessful, it would set him back for days. Back in bed and crying, even on the medication. He then started begging me not to go out and see friends. I needed some space to recharge so that I could carry on looking after and supporting him. But found that I slowly stopped seeing my friends, and the invites stopped coming. We had times when it didn’t matter what I said, he would yell at me, or ignore me and lock himself away. Moments when he would verbally abuse me, telling me that I was useless, annoying him, or even that I was stupid (that was more common when we played trivia games). There were times when I would go for two days without sleep to make sure he didn’t wake up and kill himself in the night. And there were times when we would spend hours and hours talking. Talking about what was going through his mind and what he was feeling. How he could see no hope, but there were things he wanted to do. A future he wanted to have. Sometimes I think this helped. Other times, It led to more anguish and shouting. I’m not a therapist, but I was his as he wouldn’t see anyone else. I also started smoking a lot more during that time. I would often ask myself if I was (he had insisted I quit when we first got together) I would blame the smell on my mother as she smoked a lot.

I lost my job not long before Christmas that year. It was really a mutual decision, I couldn’t keep missing work, and they couldn’t keep covering my shifts. I did find another one the week after, closer to home, a little more pay ($0.50 more), and good hours. I was now able to work and be close if he needed anything. My family was just amazing too. With only one wage coming in, I was allowed to take my time paying the rent. Then it was a case of keeping track of what we owed in rent and paying when I can. Then it wasn’t mentioned. I still know how much I owe them from that time. 

I worked as hard as I could to get him better. I stopped living my life to help him get through his. 

About two years after the diagnosis, my grandfather had to have major heart surgery. I had to be strong for my family, and suddenly, he was strong and there for me. It was almost a 180-degree change for a short while. During this time, I had mentioned that I would like to have a baby. I wanted my grandfather to know his great-grandchild. He told me we could try, even though it was perhaps not the best time or reason, but we could try. I found out later that he had spoken to my mother and said that he was against it but that he wanted to make me happy. We didn’t even try. 

The surgery was successful and my grandfather lived for another two years. His depression was a roller coaster, up and down without warning. Though the good days were slowly outweighing the bad, they were still there. The insults lessened and we started trying to have fun again. He then got a new job, several kilometers away, and yet was happy to drive himself and seemed to “wake up” a bit more. 

Our sex life was also starting to pick up again too. Still not regular, but at least it was about once or twice a month. During the worst of his depression, we spent about a year without it. We started talking about different things too. Not every day was about his depression anymore. We were talking about the future again. And then we started talking about swinging and sex with other people. We had discussed this back in the UK, but nothing ever came of it. We had met a few people but decided that swinging was perhaps not for us. The conversations more than anything seemed to be all we needed to spur us on in the bedroom. We also discussed Throuples and Polyamory. He was so positive about everything and so was I. Our perfect life might be different now, but there was hope. 

A year after he started working in his new job, we decided to move out. We found this wonderful little place in the city where he works and moved. It all happened so quickly. Five months after we moved in, we discussed Poly again and decided to go for it. We had been through so much and overcome it, that we were strong enough to do Poly. He had girlfriends first and met people before I did. However, he was never able to forge a solid relationship with them. There was always an excuse as to why it ended. I was able to meet someone, and we still have a very strong relationship. It has grown and developed, I am forming a friendship with his wife and her partner and I know have a girlfriend as well.  Our Poly lifestyle though is not to blame or responsible for why I left. 

On the outside, people could see a happily married couple, enjoying the new home; I got a new job and planning for the future. Behind closed doors was a different story. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything