Just say hi. Please?

I know, I know, I know this is not my deal. He's gone so he can work on himself. But I can't pretend his absence doesn't affect me. Almost as bad as bedtime is when I text him and don't get a response for hours, if at all.

Maybe about 3 months ago, he and I had a fight about whether it's common courtesy to at least send a response text, especially to your spouse, regardless of whether or not it addresses any question that's been posed. He said something that is very similar to a line in one of my favorite Van Morrison songs:

And if you never hear from me
That just means I would rather not

Thanks, Van. So, can you tell me why my husband doesn't want to send me a response text? He'd mentioned in that same fight that sometimes he just doesn't feel like responding. I have a feeling I know why - in his mind, that fight wasn't about my expectation of common courtesy from the person who's supposed to love me most in the world, it was about me trying to control him. It doesn't matter what I say, there's just so much that he sees as me trying to control him. And since the past couple of months have been quite a bit about how he feels I always try to have control over everything, and how part of this time away from home has been about him trying to recapture the independence he feels it's been so long since he had, I think this is him trying to have some independence and control.

Aren't there ways to gain control of your life that don't involve something so petty as ignoring your wife when she's trying to talk to you? Every time he chooses not to respond, out of some sort of notion that I'm trying to control him by not thinking some common courtesy is too much to ask from my spouse, I really wonder if he knows how that chips away at my ability to be able to rely on him. If I can't count on him to even acknowledge that I've made an attempt to communicate with him, what can I count on him for?

The combination of a ring and a piece of paper doesn't mean you can throw courtesy and respect for one another out the window, in fact, it means there should be more. And I'm feeling incredibly disrespected. I really hope this is just a symptom of what's been eating at him for the last few months, because if this is going to be a permanent fixture of his independence, that will definitely be a problem.

Feeling ungrateful

Thanks to the help of some awesome friends, there are now curtains on every window of the apartment, the bathroom is freshly painted and I have a new medicine cabinet assembled and hung. The apartment is really starting to come together. I'm waiting on the delivery of a new headboard and two of those end tables that double as cat pan covers, and I would really like to do some painting in the dining room and bedroom. I'm turning our place into a home. All of this should make me happy. But it's not even coming close.

I just want my Pumpkin. :(

Getting there

We ended up having lunch together. Before we went into the restaurant, we had a nice, long conversation in the parking lot. We frequently have our best conversations in the car for some reason, and it went well. I need to stay focused on the fact that this is not so much about me as it about his need to figure himself out and establish some more independence. When he was still living with his parents (before we met), he was more than happy to let his mom take care of his affairs - he really couldn't have cared less, and it made her feel better to do it. When we got together, I was more than happy to take over where she was leaving off, so he's never really done a whole lot in that regard. For example, it's only in maybe the last five years that he's started making his own doctor appointments. And me trying to maintain some control freaks him out because he wants to start doing things for himself.

Once we got inside, it was just so nice to be able to spend some time talking to him that I didn't actually mind that I didn't care for my food - I was out with my husband after five days of not seeing him. It was so nice to see him and be able to hug him and kiss him, but it was so hard to go home without him. I bawled most of the way home, and for a few minutes after I got home.

I have high hopes for this coming week - higher than I probably should. After a long, dreary winter, it is supposed to be sunny and in the high 40s/low 50s. Spring is on the way, and it's his favorite season. My husband + outside + nice early spring weather = Awesome moods and an improved outlook. Every year. I should start calling him my little crocus - at the end of winter/beginning of spring, he pokes his head up, looks toward the sun, and just shines. I'm really hoping the upcoming week will do him worlds of good.

As far as redecorating goes, I have a bunch of supplies, with some more on the way. I bought the paint for the bathroom this afternoon - leave it to a foodie to find a paint color named after food. Within the next couple of days, the bathroom will have a couple of fresh coats of "Fresh Biscotti."

I'm having some girlfriends over this weekend, and rather than us going out for dinner, I'll be making something yummy and healthy. Hopefully one of them will bring wine. ;)

Going to bed alone is still the hardest, and I go back to work on Monday. We'll see how that goes. I'm not really feeling up to it, but I'm out of paid leave, and I guess I have to go back sometime.

Routing Error

I can't win. I just can't fucking win.

When he was complaining about lack of DVR and decent internet at his mom's house, and I told him he wasn't there to watch TV and surf the web all day, he was fine with that. He was even glad I said it.

I'm meeting him for lunch in a little while, and he texted me to ask that I bring the wireless router. I texted back "this concerns me. Please promise me that this will not slow down the process. I'm scared that you're just going to lay in bed all day."

Now suddenly, he's all pissed, thinking I'm trying to control what he does with his time, dragging out his classic line "I'm not going to promise you anything - you either trust me or you don't." God, I hate that line, it's such a fucking cop-out. I started crying and he said "oh this is going to be fun. Look, are you sure you want to do this?" I said of course I did, did he? "Not if you're going to be a big blubbery mess in public."

He's the one who wanted to do it in public in the first place. He was afraid that if he came home, he wouldn't be able to conjure up the will to leave. I just want to see my husband. Apparently, his desire to see me comes with conditions.

We have a line around here co-signing each others' bullshit, essentially, not allowing the other to get away with dumb stuff. Why do I have a feeling that in order for my husband to get better, I'm going to have to co-sign some bullshit for a while?

The fifth night is the hardest?

I has a big, giant sad tonight. I don't know what it is, the longer this goes on, the sadder I feel at night. He left on Friday, so tonight will mark my fifth night sleeping alone. My fifth night of no snuggles, my fifth night without our bedtime rituals.

I've been relatively okay until now. Sure, after he left, I threw myself on the bed and bawled my eyes out for a while. But save for a few tears here and there (mostly thanks to the Radio Heartbreak Squad, the bastards), and last night's banking fiasco (for which he apologized again), I've been... okay... not necessarily un-okay... coping as best I can. But tonight, night number five, I can't seem to stop the waterworks from flowing. Maybe it's because I saw my psychiatrist today and I'm a little raw, maybe it's because I went to Costco and bought stuff that I guess turned out to be what I would buy for myself if I was living alone (which, for all intents and purposes, I am). Whatever the reason, I has a hugely painful, lonely sad.

I haven't been sleeping particularly well since this started. Heck, I haven't been sleeping particularly well for a few months now. The psych gave me something to help me sleep. I have a feeling the only help I'll need in that department tonight will come from my extra helping of tears.

How little it takes these days...

He told me on Thursday night that he was going to leave on Friday. Just when I'd gotten used to Saturday, another day was gone. I understood why he needed to do it - by sitting at home for another day, he was just prolonging the inevitable. We actually had a nice day on Friday. I helped him pack, I cried, we snuggled and talked about how much it was going to suck. He mentioned that he'd be lost without his DVR and wireless internet. Without even thinking, I blurted out "you're not doing this so you can lay around and do the same 'nothing' you've been doing here, you're doing this so you can work your stuff out and get healthy." I immediately wished I hadn't said it, thinking he'd be pissed at me, but he acknowledged that I was absolutely right and he was glad I said it, because it needed to be said.

I helped him bring his stuff to the car, and after a few lingering hugs and kisses, I watched him drive away. I went back inside and bawled for about 10 minutes, then dusted myself off, emailed a few friends who know the story (I've since opened up to a few friends, and they've been incredibly supportive), and got to setting the house in order (it's been trashed).

I've been a little lonely, but I've been keeping busy with housework, errands and laundry. We've only spoken on the phone once, but texted more than usual (usual = rarely, but this is at least an improvement and I'll take it).

So when I saw his cell phone number on the caller ID, I got excited, thinking we'd have a nice conversation. But... notsomuch.

Oy. Allow me to provide a little backstory:

So, I do all the finances. Including both of our personal accounts. He had never really used his personal account, he'd just been using the debit card from the joint account, so when he got the debit card for his personal account, I asked him if he wanted me to set up his online banking and he said yes.

Last week, I went to transfer some money from one sub-account to another within our main joint account and accidentally transferred it into his personal account. So I logged into his personal account and transferred it back to the joint account (minus some money that I was leaving in there for him to spend while he was gone).

Enter today's phone call...

Thinking he was just calling to say hi and have a chat, I was so happy to answer the phone. Unfortunately, the first words out of his mouth were an angry spew - "what were you doing in my account and why did you take money out of it," and his tone suggested he was accusing me of stealing money from him. He said he had deposited money into his account and now some of it was gone. I explained what happened, and he sounded like he didn't believe me. And apparently he forgot the conversation where he wanted me to set up his online account (he frequently forgets stuff like that, which is all the more frustrating), because THEN he asked me why I'd set up his online banking and told me that it was creepy that I'd been in his account, even to correct an error I'd made.

Ugh.

I'd been doing so much better than I expected. I'd barely even shed a tear since he left. I'm sure staying focused on the house has had quite a bit to do with that, but still, it's something. But that conversation left me bawling again. He apologized for sounding like he was yelling at me, he said he was just surprised - and not in a good way - and that he just doesn't want me having access to his personal account. I can understand that, but why so upset about it that he has a reaction that makes me feel two inches tall, regardless of his intent?

I just want my fun, fun-loving, goofy husband back.

I picked up a copy of Rage Against the Meshugenah at the library today. I think I need to dive in - there's so little out there about male depression. I need insight.

The latest

I need to go in a different direction with this blog for the time being. Something about me being married but living single in quasi-limbo.

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Husband told me tonight that he needs to "go away" for a while. He's been dealing with some pretty bad depression and had his soul sucked into the couch for months now. Even before he lost his job, all he did other than work was lay on the couch.

He knows none of this has been easy on me, and he's having a hard time trying to get his own shit together without worrying about how it's going to affect me in general or us as a couple. He needs to get his head sorted out, and it's just not happening with him on the couch all the time.

He's going to go stay with his mom for a while and see if he can work out his problems in his head. I had a feeling this might come - heck, I even thought of suggesting it myself - but the whole thing is uncertain. We're still married, we still love each other, we're still each others' best friends, he's not "leaving me," but he's leaving our home for an as-yet-to-be-determined period of time (days? weeks? months? He mentioned something about spring, but neither of us have any idea) to see if he can figure out what he wants and needs. We'll talk, but I'll essentially be a married-but-single crazy cat lady running the house by myself for a while.

This is so hard - I've been bawling so hard I can't see straight. I don't get it. This is something I was going to suggest!! So why can't I stop crying?

He thinks he'll probably leave on Saturday, I'm going to see if I can take next week off to transition. I see my therapist tomorrow, I wonder if I can have him talk to my psychiatrist about maybe having the week covered by FMLA if I can't get it off as personal time. Oy.