We’re in our seventh year of marriage. My husband’s 37, I’m 33, and we live with one cat. I was already dealing with depression when we met. Honestly, the time we got married might’ve been when my symptoms were at their worst.
I didn’t think deeply about marriage or how it might burden my partner. But my husband, who’d been around people with depression before and even had depressive tendencies himself, was far more serious about our future than I was.
Marriage changed my life overnight. I went from living for myself to feeling this weird duty to adapt to him, which made my depression worse. Some people might improve by living for others, but for me, trying to do everything perfectly led to severe insomnia. Within a year, I hit my limit and started crying at dawn, bringing up divorce over and over.
My husband saw I wasn’t speaking from my heart, just overwhelmed. He’d offer to stay up with me at night or tell me I didn’t need to do housework perfectly. He was like a guardian, praising me wholeheartedly for doing even one chore.
Over time, I learned to (in a good way) cut corners and focus on doing what I could. I still have days when I’m too low to do anything but stay in bed, but on good days, I can make lunch for us to eat together or go out without a problem.
I often worry I’m not sick, just lazy. But my husband calmly points out that when I say that, it’s a sign my condition’s worsening. Everyone’s different, but for me, having a husband who understands my illness, sees my symptoms objectively, and responds thoughtfully steadies my emotions better than any counselor.
※本記事は個人のうつ病体験談です。体験内容はあくまで個人の体験であり、医療アドバイスではありません。専門的なアドバイスを希望する場合は医師へ相談を。
※This article is a personal depression story. The content is solely based on personal experience and is not medical advice. Consult a doctor for professional advice.