Relationships

Hi, my name is Milodogboxer. I'm here because I'm depressed and am in a loveless 43 year relationship though he thinks all is peachy keen. He's built a wall, and to top it all off, in denial about his health... recently started metformin for type 2 diabetes, had a stent put in, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, 64 years old, drinks 5 plus days a week

#MightyTogether #Depression

Hi peeps. What's your opinions on emotional withdrawal?
My husband's been doing it to me for years, and apparently this is more common in relationships than I thought.
Ive been struggling with BPD my whole life and this behavior from my husband is ruining me.

So we haven’t talked since Friday. I got slightly drunk Friday night. I’d had an anxiety attack at work after the going away luncheon that I saw him at. He didn’t talk to me, didn’t look at me. Just nothing. So I ended up having a few drinks at home, and made the mistake of texting him, telling him how upset I was over this whole situation, how I’d had an anxiety attack after lunch, how I missed him, etc.
He responded a half hour later, pretty much saying that he didn’t know what to say, that he was sorry I was feeling like, that he does like me, and he knows he’s got a lot going on and that he’d be ok with reaching out once things fall more into place for him, that he hasn’t been able to give me enough right now, but he’ll be more available once things slow down.
I was very disappointed by that response. So I left him on read and went to bed.
The next morning I regretted texting him, and then I was even more stupid and texted him saying I was sorry for sending that. He didn’t respond and I haven’t talk to him or heard from him since.

Then yesterday, I start not feeling great at work, and about an hour after I get home, I have a massive anxiety attack that last five hours. I broke down and called a friend, told her what was going on, and she drove a half hour to come keep me company. I’ve never asked anyone for help like that. But all I could think was that I wished it’d been him here. How fucked up is that?

Dear Mom,

It’s been years since I have talked to you in person, or even to your spirit. I never know what to say or how to feel toward you. These are some of the most confusing emotions I hold within my body and mind. I don’t understand how I can love and hate someone so much at the same time.

You left me with so much confusion and hurt. You said so many hurtful things, and I will never know if you meant them or not. The worst feeling is the awful things I said to you—and I will never be able to apologize or tell you that I never meant them. Maybe you would feel the same if you were here, but I’ll never get that confirmation. I just have to live with it, while you simply got to leave me with it all.

I never asked to be here. You left me here. You hurt me. You relied on me so much as a child—you took my childhood from me. You blamed me for everything. I was reacting to trauma, and you never listened to me. You had trauma from your own parents—so why would you put the same pain onto me? You mentally abused me and made me feel like I deserved it, when I was just an innocent child. A child you chose to have.

All I ever wanted was to be normal, and you degraded me for having any sort of confidence. To this day, I still pick myself apart in the mirror—and it’s because of you. Someone who was supposed to build me up—you tore me down.

When I would cry to you about things I was going through, you made it about you and made me feel guilty for feeling. I will never forget crying in your arms about a stupid fight I had in high school, and you trying to convince me that we should kill ourselves together. I remember reality kicking in—that moment I realized the situation I was truly in. I was truly alone, and my life at that point was up to me. You had already chosen yours.

You made me feel like I was such a problem and a liability. I was a “problem child,” but that was because of the situations I was put in and how quickly I had to grow up because of you. You made me feel so guilty for just existing, for wanting to be a child who had friends and a life. Sometimes, I felt like you just wanted to keep me so you weren’t alone.

I get so lost in my head sometimes trying to figure out if it was your mental illness, or if that’s just who you were. How much can you truly blame on someone’s illness before it becomes just an excuse?

I will never forget you standing next to me while I was getting ready and making me feel so disgusted about myself. You always called me selfish, but I was simply trying to survive. I think I may still be in survival mode.

I have to let go of that guilt I carry toward you. I have to forgive myself for my mistakes and for who I was. I cannot let that define who I am now as a person. I hope, somehow, you know I never wanted it to be this way. My goodbye to you was never supposed to be forever. It was supposed to be for now—until you got better.

I felt like I tried everything to help you. I tried so hard, Mom.

You hated me for calling the police about the house we lived in—the condition you raised me in, and how unhealthy that was not only for me but for you. Why were you okay with living like that and allowing that to be my life too?

You found a new place for us to live. A fresh start. I was so excited to finally have friends over, to have a clean room. A home. Yet, you tried to destroy it. I felt like I was reliving a nightmare—and you still always blamed me. You blamed me for wanting a normal life. You tried to dirty it again, and I just don’t know why.

I ran away because I knew that if I continued living like that, I would never be anything more than what I was given. You made the choice to live like that, and I made the choice to want more. My life got better after I ran away. I was able to focus on school, receive multiple honor roll transcripts, and have somewhat of a normal life. I thought I was stupid, but no—I was just being held back from my potential.

I felt so guilty at times, but I was also so excited. I think a lot about how much farther I would be if I had the chance to live a normal life as a child and enter adulthood when I was supposed to.

Sometimes I wish I was never born.

Sometimes I wish you were able to live the life you desired and be happy.

But that’s a fantasy world, isn’t it?

You fell into drugs at a young age because of your own trauma, and it haunted you.

I wish you saw yourself through my eyes—and even through others’.

I wish I had been enough for you.

I think that feeling—that I wasn’t enough—has followed me into my relationships. The feeling of not being enough when someone chooses to hurt me. But someone choosing to hurt me truly isn’t about me, is it? It’s about them and how they view themselves. It says more about them and their healing than it ever did about me.

You were strong and beautiful and kind.

I think it’s taken me so long to write to you because I still feel guilty saying and thinking these things about you.

You weren’t always terrible to me, Mom.

I know you loved me.

I know life hurt you, and you couldn’t live with it.

I just happened to be the closest one to you—and I guess you hurt the people closest to you.

I noticed all the sacrifices you made for me.

I just never had the chance to grow up and recognize you for those things as much as I wish I could have.

I wish we had the chance to have an adult mother–daughter relationship.

I hope you know how much I love you, and will always miss you.

I hope you are proud of me and the person I’m becoming.

I hope you always look out for me—with Nana.

You lost a mother, but I lost both of you the day she died.

I remember her funeral and having to hold my tears back to be strong for you.

Nana was everything to me.

She loved me unconditionally.

She never made me feel like too much.

She always defended me and held me when I needed it.

She watched me while you went out and did drugs and left me behind.

She picked me up before work when you and I would get in fights.

I was a child who would pack up a suitcase, wanting to run away from home.

She always came and got me.

I loved her with every ounce of my being, and I watched her die.

The guilt I felt is something I will never be able to explain to anyone.

I have so much love for you, Mom—but also so much anger.

I need to let it all go, because it only hurts me.

My life has been filled with so much hurt and so many insecurities, and I don’t want to live like that anymore.

I am a good person, and I deserve good things.

I deserve peace.

And I hope you’ve found yours.

I love you.

Sincerely,

Your selfish daughter.