I just want to say thank you to all of you who have offered support or an "I hear ya sister". It's both heartwarming and devastating that so many of us feel the same way.
Not long after I wrote this post my husband caught me having a cry in the shower and asked me what was wrong and why I was hiding. I unloaded it all to him. I told him that breaking things has got to stop (we've invested in a boxing bag out the back and we all use it after a bad day). I have asked him to help out more around the house and he is. He's an amazingly talented cook so he's been honing his skills with a view to get back into the workforce.
It hasn't all been smooth sailing but we are getting there.
Finally, I have made an appointment for myself for some counseling. Because we all know we can't pour from an empty cup.
To those of you traveling the same path as me, stay strong and remember it's OK to put yourself first.
I need to vent, I need to do it anon so I'm doing it here. You can go ahead a judge me that's fine, but if what I'm going to say helps just one person realise they aren't alone then I'll feel better.
Everyone goes on about people with mental health issues and how we should support them and be there for them etc. I don't begrudge them that at all and I never would.
What about those of us who live with people who have mental health issues. No shit, it feels like no one gives a single fuck about how we are feeling.
It's fucking hard! It fucking sucks. And it's fucking exhausting. I'm so tired. Tired of coming home to a mess because someone has had a meltdown and thrown an adult sized tantrum. I'm tired of the 'depression nest' that will get tidied up tomorrow.
I'm tired of being the one who does every single God damned thing around the house. I'm tired of working my ass off just to fix doors and walls that get broken due to the adult sized tantrums.
I'm tired of going out knowing it's a bad day and being terrified of coming home to find them dead. I'm tired of watching the man I love with all of my soul waking up in the morning and seeing the disappointment in his eyes that he has to face another day.
I'm tired of watching him struggle, I'm tired of him feeling even more awful for snapping at me or breaking a door because he slammed it. I'm tired of people telling me I should leave him. I'm tired of seeing him hate himself for not being able to work. His body is broken as well as the mind.
I'm fucking tired of no one ever asking me how I'm doing, if I'm OK, if I need anything.
I'm not OK!