had to call the police to take my husband to the hospital yesterday

[fizzgig]

we've hit a particularly nasty patch here. i've been feeling pretty good lately and it seems that things between us have been fine, but perhaps i was wrong.

my husband has long denied that he has any sort of mental health problems, despite the fact that me and most of the people who know him all see the depression, the anxiety and the paranoia those bring out in him. during our rough patch this summer he said that he'd divorce me if i didn't go back to therapy and that he would start going once i did. i've been with my therapist since july and he's done nothing and just gets angry with me when i bring it up. he said he's fine and all of us are imagining things.

however, a small and trivial request from me on saturday night cascaded into one of our signature late-night, hours-long fights. i said some nasty and hateful shit in response to the nasty and hateful shit that he was spewing. i'm not proud of how i act when i've been pushed past my limit. well, the fight resumed early sunday morning when he told me he was sorry things were ending this way (he said he wanted to leave and told him to pack his shit in the morning) and that he had done all he could to make things work between us. i told he was full of shit because he has made no attempt to deal with his demons or his depression and anger issues. he locked himself in the bathroom and started drawing a bath, which set off all sorts of warnings to me.

i was able to convince him to unlock the door but he asked me to leave so that he could kill himself and pulled a knife out from under his pile of clothes. i got it away from him and gave him the option of me driving him to the hospital or me calling the police to do it, at which point he pulled down the shower head and wrapped the hose around his neck.

watching him be cuffed and put in the back of the cruiser was the most heartbreaking thing i've ever witnessed. they decided against admitting him and sent him home, my displeasure with that stems not so much from my fear that he will hurt himself, but that he needs help and has so far refused to do it on his own.

i had to call my boss yesterday to come cover my shift and i was honest with him about what was going on. he told me to take a few days off if i needed.

he hasn't really talked to me since i brought him home yesterday, except to tell me that he disagrees with the counselor's opinion that he suffers from ptsd and that he thinks is more likely bpd (something i've thought for some time now but got yelled at for suggesting). part of me is optimistic that this is what he needed to realize he needs help, but i am not terribly so given his past resistance to any sort of treatment.

i don't feel that his attempt - perhaps threat would be a better word - is my fault, but i do have a lot of guilt about him being cuffed and taken away in a police car. i know that he is responsible for his own actions, but i feel miserable about being so deliberately hateful. he said he's not mad at me, but he's no the type to say shit even with a mouthful and the fact that there has been no talk about this is bothersome to me. i overheard him tell his mom he's going to the county mental health office tomorrow for a consult, but he hasn't said one word to me. but what's worse than the silence is that he won't even touch me. i understand it, but i need a hug so goddamn bad it hurts.

my biggest issue is taking all of this and what he says personally. we'll be together four years in march and i've spent the last couple of years watching the man i fell in love with withdraw further and further from me and be replaced with a man who knows nothing but anger and uses me as the convenient outlet.

i can be difficult, i can be needy, i can be a pain in the ass, but i have spent the last six months walking on fucking eggshells to not hit his triggers while he walks all over mine. he is mad at me that i want a husband and not a roommate. requests for attention, affection or sex are most often ignored without comment or met with anger. asking him to take me out is like asking him to cut off a limb. asking him to help me with chores around the house is taken as a serious and final judgment against him as a horrible human being. i can't even cry because it just pisses him off and he'll sit in the other room and sigh loudly or ask me what my fucking problem is.

i keep telling myself that he's sick, that he needs help, but i'm tired and i'm lonely. i miss the man i married, but i still love him so much it hurts.

i've spent the last two days pretty much in bed watching netflix because that's pretty much all i feel i can manage. i see my therapist on wednesday, guess i have plenty to talk about this time.