Some Hard-Hitting Truths

 After that first year living back in Minnesota, my depression was pretty bad. I had the suicide attempt in February 2020. While I was in the hospital, Nick and I had a family meeting (which was actually just the two of us) with a doctor or social worker; I can't remember which. I don't remember a lot about that hospital stay. They had me pretty drugged up. I believe I let it slip, however, about how unhappy I was and that I wanted to leave. I recall letting Nick know that I was afraid he'd try to fight me about the kids if I tried leaving.

I was so tired of all the yelling that went on at our house. In May 2020, I applied for low-income housing. I gave the application to my mom to mail in June. I couldn't manage to do it myself. I was so torn. I felt like something needed to change, but I just didn't have the courage to change it. After my application was received, a letter arrived in the mail informing me that I was on the waiting list for an apartment. Nick got the mail the day that letter arrived. I can't remember the last time my heart had ever raced as fast as it did as when I told him that I had applied for an apartment.

The subject was basically a non-subject for a long time. I want to say it was over half a year before an apartment even came up for me. The time span I was given was three-to-six months. I suppose with the Covid crisis, nobody could afford to move. One day, I received a call wanting to know if I wanted an apartment. Things were finally at a point where I could have stayed or left and it wouldn't have mattered one way or the other to me. But I had to make a split-second decision. Nick was in the next room. I asked the lady on the phone what would happen if I were to turn down this apartment. She said that when the next one came up, she would call me. If I turned down the next one, they would put me to the bottom of the list again.

I turned it down, obviously. Nick and I had been working on our relationship - going away weekends, going out on date nights, and I was trying to open up and talk about the things that I was unhappy about. I was still keeping my options of moving open, though. I still wasn't going to put up with all the yelling that went on in the house. Even as the yelling grew less, I found myself still walking on eggshells, never knowing if there was an explosion that was going to happen out of some small incident that I considered nothing. I'm, for the most part, pretty laid back. If there's junk on the counter, it doesn't bother me. I'll get to it. If there's dishes in the sink, it'll be taken care of.

A lot of the times I wondered if I would be healthier living single (with the kids, or kid, as it may be), just because I am more relaxed about things like that. Yes, I like a clean home, but I don't like the anxiety of feeling like I have to push to have everything done before x time so that the you-know-what doesn't hit the fan. I grew up in a sparkling-clean home. My mom always had everything so clean. You could eat off the floors. I am just not that person. Growing up like that made me rebel against that. Do I feel pressure to keep up with things? Yes. Would I feel less pressure on my own? It's hard to say. Do I want to keep things neat? Yes. Is it easier to do it if it's not expected of you? You bet it is.

So where am I at right now? I still haven't received that second call for the apartment, but when I do, I'll be turning it down and having them take my name off the list. I guess I'll never know if I'll be healthier on my own. I guess I really don't want to know. I've spent over half my life with Nick and really dedicated the last 15 years to making things work. He has stuck with me through some superiorly shitty times, and I'm determined to make our marriage last.

We're coming up on 19 years married this year (I actually just typed 18 - time really does fly by), and 26 together. Somehow we're still kids, though, trying to figure this whole marriage thing out. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, 'til death do us part.

Until next week's dirt...