There is no short version of the story. There's no way to keep this brief. I'm sorry.
I'm scared. I thought dh needed to speak to a counselor. He wasn't responding to my e-mails and had nothing to say when he called. It's strikingly similar to when he was diagnosed with PTS. I wrote to him about some very serious stuff and he never responded. I sent him 38 e-mails over 3 weeks. Of those, he responded to 1. Among those 38 were 2 requests for him to contact his parents--a call to his dad on his 60th birthday and a request that he e-mail his mother. I also asked him over the phone to do both things. I assumed he had done that. Just a few days ago, I found dh has had no contact at all with his family the entire time he's been gone.
Even before I found that out, I e-mailed him telling him I thought he needed to speak to someone. I made sure that I said repeatedly in the letter that I love him. I didn't want it to come across as, "You suck. Get some help." I think he's a fabulous guy, but it's pretty obvious to me that he needs to talk to someone. He hasn’t been himself in a long time.
I never dreamed that after that letter, I would go weeks without hearing a word from him.
That terrified me. That baffled everyone here who knows him. That convinced me something needed to be done. I decided that if a second week went by without hearing from him, I'd do what needed to be done to get him some help. When that exact thing happened, I made calls. After getting the runaround, they eventually got a hold of dh and talked to him about the situation. He lied to them--bold outright lies. I've written to ask him why, but he hasn't responded (big shock). Well, I told them he was lying. They believed me.
It was at that point that I called my sister screaming and crying asking, "What the fuck is going on? Who is this? What happened to my husband?"
Of course, my mother is visiting. She got to see all of that. You cannot show weakness in front of my mother. In The Tower, Vienna Teng sings about, “someone who reaches out to my weakness and won't let go." Yeah, that's my mom.
So let's stop and take stock. Now I'm resentful towards dh because
- #1. He won't get help.
- #2. He tore out my heart and the kids' hearts and stomped all over them by not having any contact with us at all (although, I’ve been lying to them and telling them that he has been e-mailing to ask about them and tell them he loves them, but they want to speak to him and I don’t have an excuse as to why Daddy isn’t calling).
- #3. I had to spend way too much time on the phone trying to get a hold of people who would encourage/order him to speak to someone. That's time I could have devoted to my kids (who really need me right now) if dh would just speak to someone. All he had to do was make an appointment to speak to a counselor there. Since he wouldn't do that, I have to add to my "to do" list.
- #4. He lied to his supervisors and tried (whether consciously or not) to make me look like a silly little over-anxious wife.
- #5. I have an appointment with a counselor on Wednesday in an attempt to find out HOW THE HELL to communicate with the man that my loving husband has morphed into. Remember, I HATE seeing shrinks. Now I have to see one because he's forcing me into that situation.
- #6. All this could be avoided if he would just A. Talk to me, but if he is in fact suffering from PTS and therefore can't contact me, then he could B. SPEAK TO SOMEONE.
- #7. My mother was here to witness my breakdown. I will never be able to live that down.
I love my husband dearly. I desperately do NOT want to feel resentful. I suppose that is a good topic to bring up with the counselor on Wednesday. Pardon me while my jaw tightens at the very thought.
After hearing from his supervisors, Dh finally wrote to me and amid a few lines of small-talk BS, he said, "I’m sorry for being an asshole. I never wanted to hurt you and I hate myself for doing it."
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. THEN DON'T FUCKING DO IT! JUST STOP IT ALREADY! If you want to stop hurting me—hurting all of us, but for some reason, can’t, then don’t ya think maybe you need some help?
And then I feel crestfallen and think, “I never wanted you to hate yourself. I don’t hate you. I love you, but you’re scaring me.”
I wrote back. The first two responses were typed with hands that shook and eyes blurred with tears. A few were written when I felt a bit more calm. He has responded to none of them.
I don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know where to turn. I don't know what to expect. I just don't know.