She told me she was taking wellbutrin around the end of the summer for depression. I could have handled the news better. I questioned her decision and her doctor's decision instead of showing my support. At first I think she thought it was her fault she was down. We sometimes had arguments and it would come out. Most of the time, though, she seemed very happy with me and us and everything. I was honestly shocked she had decided to take medication.
Later, though, I think she started blaming me. Maybe she had a right to. I have a sketchy past with relationships. I never let myself get too close, except with her. Fear of loss and rejection makes you do irrational and very detrimental things. I was escaping reality by smoking huge amounts of pot and living alone for five years before we got together.
Anyway, she stopped taking the medication a few weeks before she tried to break up with me the first time so "she could make sure the drug wasn't a factor".
I've been in compete denial over the whole thing until recently. I went to one session with a therapist and even took Paxil because the doctor said I had reactive depression. One pill was enough. It was the worst twenty four hours of my life. I had panic attacks the whole night and didn't sleep a wink.
I still thought we could work things out. It actually got better for a while. We were sleeping in the same bed, took baths together (no sex), talked about what we wanted in a partner, went out to dinner. She said things like "you need to make me miss you" and seemed like she just needed a little space.
So I was all set to move out for a while. Before the breakup, we were to host a party at our house, a tradition called Friends Thanksgiving, a chance for everyone to get together a week before actual Thanksgiving. It was going great. We spent all last friday cleaning and setting up and all day saturday cooking three turkeys. She said she wanted to make a pact not to talk about our problems at the party. A good idea. I agreed. Only a handful of people knew. Her sisters and spouses, and a couple of really close friends.
When 5:00 came around and her sisters showed up I panicked. I tried to hide it and put on a happy face. I mingled and tried to be a good host. We all sat down for dinner, toasted to what we were thankful for and served the food. I couldn't stop thinking it would be all over the next day. I got up and went to go wash some dishes, just to get away. She knew I was upset at that point.
Thoughout the night I was both talkative and putting on a good happy front, and reclusive to the point where I wanted to just get away. She confronted me a few times and it just made the reality of the next day all the more intense. Later on after going upstairs for about fifteen minutes, leaving her to answer awkward questons about where I was, I told her privately that I needed to leave. This was unforgivable, and to her was just me shutting out the truth instead of trusting her to do what was right.
We argued thoughout the night and I left in the morning.
this is starting to sound like Jerry Springer.