By Anonymous
I
first met my wife in university. She was beautiful and academic,
extremely witty. One thing about her that was always difficult for me
was her anxiety. You can’t blame her, some people are just born with too
much stress nerves in their brains. She was the type that stressed
about everything, literally paralyzing her sometimes with anxiety. When I
was young, I was able to handle it. I didn’t see it as a setback
quality in her, but just something that was part of her.
After
we married, we had a wonderful married life. Her mental health improved
and she was less anxious. We had been married for 7 years when we were
informed that she was infertile (a light bulb for us, after trying to
conceive for many years). This obviously made us both upset, but I was
ok with it after a while. For her, not so much.
I
think it was this bit of medical news that triggered her stress and
anxiety again and it came like a full wave. She became very suspicious
of everything, thinking that I would cheat on her. She got very tense.
She had random spouts of happiness (the good days) followed by weeks of
depression. She got really negative about everything, as if there wasn’t
any good left in the world. This was life, this was her, and eventually
I got used to it. I didn’t give
much effort into trying to listen to
her. Whenever she cried or needed a hug, I just got up to do something
else. Only once, I dragged her to a counselor. My wife claimed he was
condescending and rude and made inappropriate sexually explicit comments
to her. I didn’t listen. I thought she just didn’t want to get
professional help. Eventually her mental health got bad enough where a
psychiatrist had to prescribe meds. Lots of them, a whole shelf full of
stuff that I couldn’t pronounce and not entirely sure what they were
supposed to treat.
The more my wife needed me,
the more I ignored her. She refused to take her meds, confined in bed.
She was like a liability and I hated coming home. She wouldn’t have sex
with me, and this was a big deal for me. By this time, she had been
fired from her job and her friends had given up on her. I got tired
dealing with her. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her anymore, at least,
that’s what I kept telling myself, but I just couldn’t deal with her. I
started crushing on a coworker, whom I had confided my home struggles
with for a number of years.
I started falling out of love with my wife. I thought about giving up on her, and I actually did.
We
had an argument one night and I told her I was going to leave her. I
remember her expression clearly. She looked hollow, like there was no
life in her. She said “Ok” very indifferently and went to bed.
The
next day when I came back from work, I found her sprawled on the bed.
She had slit her wrists. There was a note next to her saying: “I’m sorry
we met”
Finally, after all that, my dating
life opened up again. I went to bars, clubs…my friends tried to hook me
up with other women. But whenever I brought them home with me and we sat
on the bed, I could never look at them. I never touched them. I felt
sick whenever they tried to talk to me. It struck me that after so many
years, I realized that I had fallen in love with her beauty and
intelligence, but I never cared about the rest of her. I was a jerk to
her. I let her mental health slip and didn’t care because I didn’t think
that was important.
It’s been 12 years since she died and to this day I still believe that I killed my wife.
Dont make the mistake i made...Love the whole....
Had a similar beginning.... just saying (Me) ...Deep thinking......
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