After my first counseling session, I was still alone for the second session. My wife still shows no interest in attending.
In the first, I spent a lot of time outlining how I (we) had reached this point (as far as I could). I had talked about the unexpectedly powerful impact of the death of her father last year, of her sudden and brief dip into depression early this year, of how it seemed odd and incongruous: I had finally switched from a somewhat thankless job with few prospects into a pleasant one with better prospects and had been coming home from work happier than in some time.
I expected the second session to be different and it was. This time, the dialog was not so one-sided. The counselor wanted to know more about the relationship itself, how we worked together as a couple, how we interacted in the routines of a day. She challenged me to explain why I glossed over some things and expanded on others. She was starting to get a sense of the relationship and dug deeper.
I didn’t have all the answers for my counselor and she charged me with things to think about and things to explore and discover.
I don’t have all the answers and might never get them. My wife told one of my daughters that she might kill herself. Well that changes everything. She devastated my daughter who now asks me each night as I put her to bed and spend time with her, if she’s really going to do it. I tell my daughter no, of course not. But I can’t be sure. I asked my wife about it (I wanted to scold her for saying such a thing to my daughter, but that’s an argument for another day) and she declaimed it as just a bad day.
There was a time, many years ago in England, when she was suffering from what I later learned was post-partum depression after the birth of our first daughter. I woke up early to find her in the garage, with the keys to the car in the ignition. My appearance broke her reverie, and I still wonder if I had slept late, would she really have started the car and ended it all. Now I have to figure out how serious this relevation is, and what to do about it. If she’ll let me do anything at all.