I’ve NC for this as it’s possibly outing although I’m sure there are thousands of miserable, depressed farmers out there whose wives might be similar.
My husband is a farmer, he’s in partnership with his (elderly) father of a family farm which has been in the family circa 250years. The job is hard at the moment, not enough staff, volatile commodity prices and soaring costs, it isn’t what it was when his father was running the job in the 70s when they were pissing shit hot chemicals into water courses and basically decimating the countryside, but my husband does a brilliant job.
We live a beaut life (this is in relevance to my post, I’m not gloating). Three young children, a really beautiful place to live in more space than most people dream of, dogs, horses, I work part time as a fee earning professional and honestly through my eyes life is awesome, apart from him.
Everything sits heavy on him. The farm is, as he describes, the millstone around his neck which he wishes he didn’t have - the pressure to make it work and to carry it on, something he can never walk away from. It plagues his every day, every trip away he’s light and the moment we come down the drive the black dog descends.
The house is a constant stress for him. It’s a big old listed farmhouse and to be fair it constantly shitting itself one way or another but for me like most rationale people, it’s a nice problem to have. I see a nice home to bring up our children, I don’t know what he sees but it’s all dark.
The gardens are endless and there isn’t enough time to sort them all out, something always needs doing - I feel like this is the same for anyone who takes an interest in gardening, no matter the size. It bothers him, to the point sometimes he comes home and cuts the pissing lawn in the dark.
I do everything with him, I share the burden physically and mentally of the farm and at home, plus I carry the weight of all the childrens admin because I always have.
He goes in cycles, sometimes he’s jolly as fuck and living the dream we actually have. This week is another pit of sorrow, rejected loads of wheat, deductions, a massive invoice from the fertiliser company and four new tractor tyres at fuck knows how much. He’s sulking and miserable and I know he suffers with depression, he gets inside his head and he can’t cope with everything and his mood just spirals.
I have asked him so many times to seek help but he has a shotgun licence and his solace is the odd day clay shooting with his friends, apparently seeking mental health support means his guns would be taken and so that is not an option.
I don’t know what to do anymore, I’m in my mid 30s, I want to laugh some more, I know he’s struggling but I feel like he’s pulling me down with him. We’re going away next week which he’s moping about (despite it being his suggestion). I’ve organised everything from the kids to the house sitter to the animals to the farm relief, he hasn’t had to think about it.
Tonight I just lost my shit and told him I was so fed up of him being such a miserable twat when he’s surrounded by so much good. I know depression doesn’t work like that and I understand it’s hard but fuck me we literally have the world to go at and he’s stalking about upstairs making his problems worse in his head, he doesn’t even speak to me about it, just shuts down until the cloud lifts.
I don’t know what to say to change things? I don’t know what to do next? I love the bones of him and I want to help but I can’t go through another cycle of elated-calm-down-desperate-distant again, I’ve just run out of steam. I don’t know what I’m asking really, am I being a dick? What should I be doing to help him, we just bugger along getting from one of his breakdowns to another, it isn’t normal but so many of his friends are also farmers in the same shitstorm I think he thinks it is?