Because apparently, yelling into the void is frowned upon.
And also? Because I need somewhere to put all the crap that’s been quietly piling up behind my smile for the last few years.
There aren’t a ton of emotional support groups for people like me—spouses of someone with major depression, ADHD, and generalized anxiety disorder. At least not in my area. Or on Earth, it seems.
My husband, D (who shall henceforth be referred to as D because I’m lazy and also trying to keep things somewhat private), has been dealing with these things most of his life—but without a diagnosis. So basically: unmedicated, undiagnosed, and raw-dogging reality for decades. Fun times, right?
It wasn’t until a few years ago that he started seriously taking care of himself. Everything came to a head after an urgent doctor’s appointment—one where, for the first time, he was completely honest with his physician’s assistant. That honesty saved his life.
There’s nothing quite as gut-wrenching as hearing that your husband has had constant suicidal thoughts… and a plan. It was terrifying. And there I was, holding his hand, encouraging him to say it. But it was also the turning point.
That moment—followed by an ER visit—is etched into both of our memories. It was the start of this long road:
- Medications (so many, with wildly different results)
- Therapists
- Psychologists
- Neurologists
- Cardiologists
So many -ists. You name it—we’ve awkwardly cried in front of them.
Looking back now, I can’t believe that was years ago. It still feels like yesterday. Some memories are just burned into your soul like that.
So why start a blog now?
Honestly, I need some kind of outlet. Talking about this with friends or family is hard—there’s only so much “he’s doing okay” you can say before you want to throw something.
And being the “resilient one” in a family of five? It’s like being the only one trying to patch holes in the boat while rowing and making snacks and answering school emails and trying not to lose your mind.
This blog is for me. But maybe it’s also for you—if you’re the partner who smiles politely at the pharmacy tech while picking up the latest med adjustment.
Between our three kids, D’s medical care, and the never-ending to-do list of life (cooking, working, cleaning, scheduling… kids going through puberty), there’s rarely time to reflect or process. Especially when most of your emotional energy is spent holding space for someone else’s survival.
I love my husband deeply. He’s one of the most empathetic and caring people I’ve ever known.
Simply put, he is my best friend, and I don’t know what I would do without him.
But that doesn’t mean this journey is easy—or that I don’t need an outlet too.
If you’re out there reading this—maybe sitting in your car, taking a deep breath before going back inside—I see you.
And I hope this space becomes something real. Honest. Cathartic.
And maybe even a little funny.
We’ve cried enough.
Let’s laugh a little too.
Why Are We Crying? 
Who are these people frowning at, yelling into a void?
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