Climbing Out Of The Hole | Jenngem

I've been very hesitant about writing about this. But I need to get this out somewhere. Mentally, since my step-father died on July 9th last year, things have not been right, with me, with my husband, with my family. I know they say the first year is the hardest, but last time I went through this I was 12. I didn't even know how to process emotions back then. I guess I didn't really feel them. But damn, I am feeling them now. And yes, we are coming up on the year anniversary of his death. I don't know how that happened so fast. How the year flew by. How Syrus will turn six, and be in first grade come September.

So, I've been distant, from everyone. Yes, I had even distanced myself slightly from my own son. Damn it all, I felt like everyone was dying. First my father, than my step-father, then there was a scare with my mother on Memorial Day. I know we're all going to die someday, I get that. I understand that, but I haven't accepted it. 

My mind has been so incredibly messed up since Dan's death. Throw a huge stressor like that at someone with Major Depressive Disorder and OCD? Well, forgive my language, but I was fucked. As the days and months went on, I slowly built a wall around myself. I put myself in a box. I didn't want to let anyone in, I didn't want to share my emotions with them. Long story short, I did some stupid things. My husband and I fought a ton more. We were drifting apart.

Then, on June 9th, the proverbial shit hit the fan. I was angry, because my purely obsessive intrusive thoughts had come back. I was pissed. So I wanted to walk it off. But me being stubborn, told no one what I was doing, and before I was diagnosed, I had a bad habit of walking away, when I wouldn't get back in the car, my husband called the cops on me. I saw his logic, not at the time of course, but now I do. I almost stepped into the road and got hit by a car. He feared for my safety.

I ended up at the emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation, where I was referred to intensive all-day therapy (which I had to quit early, because I've fell quite ill lately). But, my husband was gone. He was moving out, and taking our son with him for the time being. There was a lot of fighting between us over that for a good week. But the hospital had to get DCP&P, DYFS, Child Protection Services, whatever you want to call it, became involved, and my husband became the "Protective Parent," whereas I was the "Alleged Perpetrator." Over my OCD intrusive thoughts, of course. They said they just have to use that language, because of some legal jargon. It still hurts. I've never and would never hurt my son in a million years. I've never laid a hand on my son, nor will I ever. Neither has my husband.

Trust that it kills me that I can only see my beautiful son and husband certain days. My husband and I, are physically separated, but are trying to make our marriage work. I cry at night when no one is awake because my husband isn't beside me. That will subside, I'm sure, as I get used to the situation. It breaks my heart. And this isn't short-term, either. He is going for a paralegal certificate, and we have another good two years or so, unless we magically come into some money where we could live together again. 

I feel like my heart has been ripped into a million pieces. I know that my husband loves me and our son more than anything in his life, and he would do anything for us. I know I will get used to this feeling, and Syrus will get used to being shuttled back and forth. But, I have to focus on getting better, my husband has to work on school, and his own issues. I just wished we could do it together. But when you only make $800 a month, there aren't many options on places to live. So for all intents and purposes, we're separated. We see each other, go out and enjoy our time as a family when he has days off, but it isn't the same.

He's not here. Everytime I think about 2-3 years, I can't even imagine 2-3 weeks. But I'm rambling now. Time to end this shit-show of a post. Has anyone ever dealt with something similar? God, how I wished that we could both work great jobs and make great money and live in a house, have a second child, and be a regular family. Maybe someday, but not today. But slowly, we're going to climb out of this hole, together. On the other side, there will be a beautiful marriage still intact, our handsome boy some years older, and financially stable with our own home.

Note to Jeremy: I know you read my posts. I needed to purge my feelings somewhere. I hope you understand. I love you.

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