Laugh Out Loud
I didn't know my husband had a history of mental illness.
At first, when I met him, I thought he was just thinking a lot and speaking less.
At first I thought I would draw him out of his quiet, and make him laugh out loud long and often.
I made him laugh a few times. But not often.
Then I thought he he was a happy guy whose happiness was being weighed down by his work.
He worked for the same company for many years. He was bored. He worked long hours. He worked at nights. He worked on weekends. He had to wear the same thing every day. He had to deal with unhappy people. He had to climb ladders. He had to stand out in the cold during the wintertime. There were many reasons for him to not be happy because of his work.
I thought if he could just change jobs, if he could just change shifts, if he could just change his position, I could make him laugh out loud long and often. He changed shifts, he changed positions, he changed jobs.
He laughed, but only a few times.
Then I thought it was parenthood. He was overwhelmed. Our children were loud. They were everywhere. They were expensive. They were constant. They got sick. They needed attention. They needed food. They made messes. They didn't let him sleep late. They cried. They wanted to play. They were in his things.
I thought if I could just do all the parenting, and give him time and space and only ask him to do parenting a little bit, maybe he could handle it. Maybe we could make him laugh out loud long and often. I took over parenting. I gave him hours and rooms. I didn't demand things.
He laughed, but only a few times.
Then I thought it was his drinking. I thought if he could just stop drinking, if he could just stop hiding bottles, if he could just stop sneaking downstairs while I put the kids to bed to drink a half bottle, if he could just go to AA, if he could just start running instead of drinking, if he could just take up meditation, if he could just stop passing out, maybe I could make him laugh out loud long and often. He stopped drinking. He stopped hiding. He started running.
He laughed, but only a few times. Then he went back to drinking.
Then I thought it was me. I thought I talked too much. I thought I thought too much. I thought I wasn't pretty enough. I thought I was too short. I thought I spent too much time with the kids. I thought I wasn't interesting enough. I thought I wasn't funny enough. I thought maybe if I was more quiet and less in my head and prettier and taller and less of a mom and more interesting and funnier, maybe I could make him laugh out loud long and often. I tried to make myself better. I tried to make myself the best.
I tried to make him laugh out loud long and often. I tried for ten years.
I failed. It never happened.
He laughed, but only a few times.
I understand now. I know it wasn't his job, or the kids, or drinking, or me.
It was him. It was him. It was him. It was inside him.
The inability to laugh out loud long and often was inside him. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard to make him laugh.
At first, when I met him, I thought he was just thinking a lot and speaking less.
At first I thought I would draw him out of his quiet, and make him laugh out loud long and often.
I made him laugh a few times. But not often.
Then I thought he he was a happy guy whose happiness was being weighed down by his work.
He worked for the same company for many years. He was bored. He worked long hours. He worked at nights. He worked on weekends. He had to wear the same thing every day. He had to deal with unhappy people. He had to climb ladders. He had to stand out in the cold during the wintertime. There were many reasons for him to not be happy because of his work.
I thought if he could just change jobs, if he could just change shifts, if he could just change his position, I could make him laugh out loud long and often. He changed shifts, he changed positions, he changed jobs.
He laughed, but only a few times.
Then I thought it was parenthood. He was overwhelmed. Our children were loud. They were everywhere. They were expensive. They were constant. They got sick. They needed attention. They needed food. They made messes. They didn't let him sleep late. They cried. They wanted to play. They were in his things.
I thought if I could just do all the parenting, and give him time and space and only ask him to do parenting a little bit, maybe he could handle it. Maybe we could make him laugh out loud long and often. I took over parenting. I gave him hours and rooms. I didn't demand things.
He laughed, but only a few times.
Then I thought it was his drinking. I thought if he could just stop drinking, if he could just stop hiding bottles, if he could just stop sneaking downstairs while I put the kids to bed to drink a half bottle, if he could just go to AA, if he could just start running instead of drinking, if he could just take up meditation, if he could just stop passing out, maybe I could make him laugh out loud long and often. He stopped drinking. He stopped hiding. He started running.
He laughed, but only a few times. Then he went back to drinking.
Then I thought it was me. I thought I talked too much. I thought I thought too much. I thought I wasn't pretty enough. I thought I was too short. I thought I spent too much time with the kids. I thought I wasn't interesting enough. I thought I wasn't funny enough. I thought maybe if I was more quiet and less in my head and prettier and taller and less of a mom and more interesting and funnier, maybe I could make him laugh out loud long and often. I tried to make myself better. I tried to make myself the best.
I tried to make him laugh out loud long and often. I tried for ten years.
I failed. It never happened.
He laughed, but only a few times.
I understand now. I know it wasn't his job, or the kids, or drinking, or me.
It was him. It was him. It was him. It was inside him.
The inability to laugh out loud long and often was inside him. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard to make him laugh.
Beautifully written. So touching.
ReplyDeleteI never know what to say. But you are spot on that it was not you. Having been in his situation regarding drinking, unhappy at work, a wife who tried, and a suicide attempt, I can assure you that the answer had to come from within him, not you. Thank you for sharing. It helps me realize how fortunate I am. I also thank you for the insight you provide on the impact of suicide.
ReplyDeleteI have thought hard about what you have written, and now i think of my friends who may have exhibited the same behavior...it worries me that I may not have been paying attention. And now, i am looking inside of myself, asking if I exhibit the same behavior as you have described....I too feel burdens, and doubt, sadness and depression. I have always put it down to being a sensitive artistic type that just wants to please people, make paintings that bring joy to someone. But, I forget myself sometimes.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteYou're pretty enough. You're tall enough. You're way more interesting enough. What have I left out? You're all of those and a lot more, as we can tell from your writings. And your children chose wisely when they picked their mother. We appreciate you. I certainly do. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteUpon reflection. You might not remember but when I first found you and your tweets, you made me laugh. And I told you. Now I've read your narrative, introspective thoughts -- and appreciate you even more. Being made to laugh is good. Being made to think, and share, are even better. Thanks again.
DeleteYou tried so hard but you can not view as a failure something that was completely out of your hands to remedy. Hugs......
ReplyDeleteThank you for writing this.
ReplyDeleteHi there...twitter friend here sending you a note regarding your tweet asking for input. Commenting here to avoid all the major publicity twitter brings. Address the issue immediately. It took me 20 years to turn it around. The financial and emotional damage still lingers. I was lucky...my wife and family somehow put up with all of it. I’m a handful of years in the plus column. When I read your tweet, after following you on twitter for a bit and having read your blog, I wanted to shout Oh No!!!... mainly because I have been touched by how open some of your posts are. Something in my heart thought “this is a big bite for someone on top of the world, let alone for someone raising a family and putting back “all the little peaces” from what you’ve had to deal with. Talk to this person, express your fears, assess whether they have any desire to change, and then make a decision. IMHO you can chase days into weeks into years waiting for the wrong person to get their act together.
ReplyDeleteYou are a remarkable woman. Your kids got dealt a shit hand, but it could be worse. They could have someone else as a mother.
ReplyDelete