#1 ·
I hope I have come to the right place to share my concerns.
We have been together for about six months. We are both divorced, and we have both crossed the threshold of forty.
In the beginning, our relationship felt almost flawless. We spent nearly twenty-four hours a day together, excluding the eight hours I was at work. He essentially moved into my place, and we shared everything.
Even before our relationship became official—back when we were just seeing each other for coffee—he was completely transparent about his medical history, which is quite extensive. Beyond "minor" issues like migraines, back pain following surgery, and gastrointestinal problems that caused him to vomit blood in the mornings, his primary struggles are multiple sclerosis and PTSD.
I entered this relationship with a full understanding of the challenges ahead. We fell in love, and I truly believed I possessed the fortitude required to navigate his illnesses. I was prepared to care for him even if he eventually required a wheelchair, and I aimed to provide the tranquil environment such patients need (his home life is quite strained, which unfortunately exacerbates his condition).
Initially, we functioned beautifully, but it turns out that managing his PTSD is a much harder nut to crack. The crises began as early as November; they started in a milder form, but they wouldn't subside. I suspect the situation was complicated by the fact that we had less time together, as my children returned home from their seasonal jobs, leaving very little space in my small apartment for everyone.
He became increasingly depressed, sleeping more frequently and relying heavily on medication. Day by day, his therapy became more intensive, and he faced financial difficulties due to some unavoidable circumstances. It feels as though everything in his life began to spiral downward, leaving me as his sole source of light and stability.
He made every effort not to make me feel neglected; he always stepped up whenever I needed assistance, even when he was visibly under the influence of his medication—often literally falling asleep on my lap, lethargic and dejected.
More and more often, he would simply stay home to lie down and sleep. Nothing seemed to bring him joy anymore, though he tried—entirely for my sake. At times, I lacked the necessary patience and found myself being critical of him. Looking back, I realize I should have been more understanding, but I struggled to navigate such an overwhelming situation.
We haven't seen each other in three weeks. I spoke with his best friend, who has tried numerous times to coax him out of the house just for a coffee, but without success. As the New Year approached, he sent me a message saying that something had happened and that he needed to be alone to reflect deeply, because his decision would affect the rest of his life... himself, me, and others. These are heavy, almost euphoric words coming from someone who is under sedation 24 hours a day, taking Xanax, various pills, and I can't recall the rest.
Is he withdrawing into himself to protect me from the burden of his illness? Because in addition to these psychological struggles, he recently suffered a fall and briefly lost sensation in his legs.
Both of his previous marriages ended because his ex-wives could not cope with his health issues.
Is this somehow a test to see if I have the stamina to endure?
I am certain that a mental health crisis is the root cause of all this. This isn't his first one, according to his friend, who advises me to remain patient and suggests that he will return to me once this period passes.
If he intended to end things with me, I believe he would tell me directly rather than retreating so quietly. His last message to me was simply, "Please, wait for me a little while..."
I am being patient, and I love him; I intend to wait. But there are days when I feel like I am coming apart at the seams, and I find myself needing my own medication. I don't want to give up on him or on us. He needs me, and I need him.
Has anyone else navigated a relationship like this, or experienced a phase like this in a partnership?
I would appreciate any advice you might offer.
We have been together for about six months. We are both divorced, and we have both crossed the threshold of forty.
In the beginning, our relationship felt almost flawless. We spent nearly twenty-four hours a day together, excluding the eight hours I was at work. He essentially moved into my place, and we shared everything.
Even before our relationship became official—back when we were just seeing each other for coffee—he was completely transparent about his medical history, which is quite extensive. Beyond "minor" issues like migraines, back pain following surgery, and gastrointestinal problems that caused him to vomit blood in the mornings, his primary struggles are multiple sclerosis and PTSD.
I entered this relationship with a full understanding of the challenges ahead. We fell in love, and I truly believed I possessed the fortitude required to navigate his illnesses. I was prepared to care for him even if he eventually required a wheelchair, and I aimed to provide the tranquil environment such patients need (his home life is quite strained, which unfortunately exacerbates his condition).
Initially, we functioned beautifully, but it turns out that managing his PTSD is a much harder nut to crack. The crises began as early as November; they started in a milder form, but they wouldn't subside. I suspect the situation was complicated by the fact that we had less time together, as my children returned home from their seasonal jobs, leaving very little space in my small apartment for everyone.
He became increasingly depressed, sleeping more frequently and relying heavily on medication. Day by day, his therapy became more intensive, and he faced financial difficulties due to some unavoidable circumstances. It feels as though everything in his life began to spiral downward, leaving me as his sole source of light and stability.
He made every effort not to make me feel neglected; he always stepped up whenever I needed assistance, even when he was visibly under the influence of his medication—often literally falling asleep on my lap, lethargic and dejected.
More and more often, he would simply stay home to lie down and sleep. Nothing seemed to bring him joy anymore, though he tried—entirely for my sake. At times, I lacked the necessary patience and found myself being critical of him. Looking back, I realize I should have been more understanding, but I struggled to navigate such an overwhelming situation.
We haven't seen each other in three weeks. I spoke with his best friend, who has tried numerous times to coax him out of the house just for a coffee, but without success. As the New Year approached, he sent me a message saying that something had happened and that he needed to be alone to reflect deeply, because his decision would affect the rest of his life... himself, me, and others. These are heavy, almost euphoric words coming from someone who is under sedation 24 hours a day, taking Xanax, various pills, and I can't recall the rest.
Is he withdrawing into himself to protect me from the burden of his illness? Because in addition to these psychological struggles, he recently suffered a fall and briefly lost sensation in his legs.
Both of his previous marriages ended because his ex-wives could not cope with his health issues.
Is this somehow a test to see if I have the stamina to endure?
I am certain that a mental health crisis is the root cause of all this. This isn't his first one, according to his friend, who advises me to remain patient and suggests that he will return to me once this period passes.
If he intended to end things with me, I believe he would tell me directly rather than retreating so quietly. His last message to me was simply, "Please, wait for me a little while..."
I am being patient, and I love him; I intend to wait. But there are days when I feel like I am coming apart at the seams, and I find myself needing my own medication. I don't want to give up on him or on us. He needs me, and I need him.
Has anyone else navigated a relationship like this, or experienced a phase like this in a partnership?
I would appreciate any advice you might offer.