I have PTSD following the death of my mother ten years ago and am currently in period of my life where it has been triggered. So I am basically waking up in a panic every day, having frequent flashbacks and intrusive thoughts, and have become obsessed with the idea that I am going to die in the same way as my mother, very soon (she had pancreatic cancer). The last twelve months have been incredibly stressful and my body and mind are exhausted.
I am doing everything I can to try and beat this. I'm checking in with the GP. I'm taking venlafaxine and mirtazapine. I'm having a psyc assessment next week. I go to counselling every week. I have stopped drinking (I never drank much, but I know it's a depressant, so am avoiding it). I'm trying to go to bed early. I'm getting things done around the house, though admittedly not to the standard I used to. Dishes are in the dishwasher at night and there’s plenty of food in the fridge. We have enough clean clothes.
My two kids are fine. The big one is autistic and at a fantastic special school. The little one is with me during the day, but she's a reasonably easy toddler and happy to hang out at home or tag along with chores etc. Both kids are clean, fed, cuddled.
The issue I have is DH. His attitude to anything to do with my mental health is to dismiss it, or try to rationalise me out of it. That doesn't really work with PTSD.
Last night he was out working all day. I had the toddler with me. We picked up the big one from school. We had our tea. We gave out sweets to trick or treaters (that I had picked up from the supermarket that morning). I put them both to bed and had my dinner in front of the tv. I put the oven on for DH's dinner and put it in for him. He came in and I chatted to him for ten minutes, then I went to bed at about 9pm.
DH pours himself a huge glass of wine and I could hear him sniffing. I asked him what was wrong and he said 'I'm so lonely. This is so hard. I'm so down.'
He doesn't see what I've achieved. That I got through the day. That the kids were warm, happy and asleep. He sees me going off to bed and thinks I am rejecting him. I am tired of my mental health issues always becoming about him. He has had crises himself, both times when I was pregnant, and I supported him fully by listening to him, encouraging him, giving him opportunities to talk things through.
He’s drinking too much. Smoking. Staying in bed in the mornings while I get the big one up and out to school. I’m working so hard at being ok and I don’t see any effort from him.
I get no actual support. I am not allowed to be ill. He doesn’t think I have PTSD. He thinks I am ‘just anxious’. When I am ill it is a Big Problem. There is no encouragement or recognition of progress. Just ‘Well you need to do even better tomorrow’.
I am tired of being ill and I am tired of carrying him. I don’t know what to do any more.