I cannot really say when it began but I know it was over a year ago. I know that he slowly began to struggle with things that he used to love to do. He changed from a busy energetic man into this older, slower person that for the moment I did not recognize. He had stopped showering and wore the same clothes for days on end. How had I missed it?
The days jumble together in my mind now as I think back. Getting him to go to the doctor took a lot of arguing. I called for advice and got him to go to the family doctor. They got him started on antidepressants and his hygiene improved. I saw little improvement - he became angry and hostile with me. This was so out of character for him that it caught me off guard.
My work suffered and I found myself short tempered with my co-workers. When I worked alone I would cry - it was the only time I could let myself do that. I went to see a counselor because of the anger I felt. It seemed like the thing to do. There I could cry and pour out the betrayal I felt. How could he get sick like this? We had so many years ahead of us.
He spoke of suicide. I prayed for things to get better. What would I do without him in my life? I prayed for someone to wake me up from this dream. I wanted him to snap out of this funk so badly that I did not know what to do.