The Sound of Silence

I once had a therapist that told me I was an "experienced consumer" in the middle of our first session. I'm sure she meant it in the nicest way...like, "Wow, you really know you're stuff...You must have sat on a couch a time or two before!" It makes me smile because I am known as the "Quirky One" on our street. When The Girls get together for margarita's I'm the first to tell a story just to get the conversation rolling.....Why is that?

Anyway, this all makes me a Quirky-Experienced-Therapy-Consumer. So, a couple of months ago when Hubba Hubba and I were struggling with balancing our life, I headed straight to a therapist. She was kind and chuckled at my jokes. You know, the ones I make when I'm uncomfortable and want to smooth out the rough edges of my conversation. On my third visit, she looks at me and said that we weren't going to make any progress unless Hubba Hubba came in with me.

So, being the brave soul that he is, he joined me on the couch. And then it got interesting. During our second joint session, as I'm the only one answering her questions, she just keeps looking at Hubba Hubba. Like the person I had been describing to her could NOT be the man sitting next to me. No way. He looks normal. He doesn't look like a man who heads to bed whenever the mood strikes him- for several hours at a time. He doesn't look like the kind of guy who can so wrapped up in Guitar Hero with our 13 year old neighbor that he loses all track of time (and reality). Sitting there wearing his tie straight from the corporate world, he looks exactly what you would expect a happily married suburban daddy-o to look like. Except, she notices he isn't talking.

And I know what you're thinking, how can he? You do so much talking that the poor man has just learned the survival skill of lethal acquiesence. But, really I'm working on that. And I have learned the "5 second rule." I speak and then wait 5 seconds for him to respond. Except, he doesn't. And the silence has slowly been breaking my heart. When I ask a question, the only response was silence. Total and utter silence. Like it was too much for him to engage. Too much effort. Too much.

So, we ended up on the couch. In front of this woman who just wants to figure out how to help us, when her preconceived ideas about our marriage didn't live up to the reality of the two of us sitting there. She looks him in the eye and asks, "How long have you been depressed?"

Sizzle. This woman wasn't going to play games. She adjusted her concept of us to match the reality and nailed it.

She asked him when the last time was that he really felt joy. Any kind of joy in any kind of activity. His answer was slow and opened a little hole in my heart. "I don't know."

The earth was still spinning, but I felt like the ticketmaster forgot to give me my ticket to jump on the merry-go-round. I didn't like this. I didn't want to think that there was anything wrong with him. Can't you just give us a sample dialogue or something to work on at home? Something simple?

No. There's nothing simple about depression. It's pervasive and poisinous. It will slowly eat you alive. or take away your joy. One small chip at a time.

So, it's up to Hubba Hubba to learn how to correct this course. It's up to him to decide what kind of treatment he wants to pursue. Because he has to. I won't let him sit on the sidelines of our life. He has to be on this merry-go-round with me, dammit. For better or worse, we signed up and paid for our tickets. We have the Boys who need engaged parents.

They need to see that sometimes life is hard, and depression is real, but you deal with what you got and where you are to make the most of this life. You learn to live your joy. and demand it back when it's being taken from you.