turning point?
November 04, 2013, 7:01 P.M.

Right after I wrote that last entry, I got a long and extremely distraught text from my husband.

I am just so tired. Life is beating the shit out of me, and I wish I knew how to make it stop. His life is beating the shit out of me, and he doesn't seem to know how to make it stop, either.

Long story short? He lost another job, thinks he's losing his mind, thinks he's losing me. Sounded nearly suicidal.

Yeah, well, I guess he hasn't exactly lost his mind, or me. But he certainly isn't in full possession of them, either. I told him firmly that he has to get help. At this point, I have stopped being supportive and crossed over into enabling, and I will not continue. If he chooses not to deal with his issues, he will lose me. He needs to tell his primary doctor that the meds are not working, he needs to get his ass into therapy, he needs to stop running the hell away from his problems.

I count it as a victory that he actually communicated this to me instead of hiding it until I got tired of the B.S. and dragged it out of him. Only took him two weeks to come clean, too. Believe me, that is quite a milestone, considering he actually had considered suicide as an alternative. (Yeah, that is why he's getting his ass into therapy.)

I also informed him that he is a ridiculously bad liar, and if he thinks I don't know what is going on pretty much all of the time, he is quite mistaken. (Hello, Einstein--it's my bank account too.) I stopped confronting him several years ago, because the whole secretive, avoidant behavior thing just kept getting worse when I expressed disapproval. I don't know if he stopped getting worse after that, but I do know that it didn't get any better. The three years he was going to school, he was so dedicated and did so well that I thought things had turned around, but I guess they hadn't. I am not a shrink, I can't fix him, and while I am not giving up...I am conceding defeat and turning him over to professionals.

Oh, yeah. He started another job this morning, which was why he was able to get up enough nerve to tell me last Thursday, I guess--he'd accepted this position. It is a bit of a distance from our house; about 23 miles away. And he isn't doing maintenance. It is a straight skilled factory worker job, wiring panels like he did years ago for Y&A. I would like to be able to hope for a good outcome, but I am afraid that after 30 years, I am beyond it.

Meanwhile, we had this surreal weekend where everything was fine and dandy. Housework, laundry, errands, and cooking. A run up to Farm & Fleet on Saturday, to do a bit of shopping. I took some pictures of our beautiful flame-colored maple tree in all of her autumn glory. Turned back the clocks. On Sunday, we took B to the dog park we discovered out in Somers, and he had the literal time of his life, running off-leash and hanging with the other dogs. And generally spent some time just hanging out and trying to relax.

And there is this elephant in the room, and it is like he is completely oblivious. But I know it's there, because it is sitting on me.