February was one of the first months that depression took me down. My wife moved out in the middle of January. Because things had grown so toxic between us, we agreed on a 30-day, no contact, cool off period. During that time I was busy trying to stay busy. I went on dates. I threw myself into my work. I did a lot of painting and reading. When I wasn’t immersed in hobbies and dating, I was drunk out of my mind.
Once the 30 days had passed it was time for us to start discussing the issues in our marriage. Her “homework” during our hiatus was to find a therapist and start taking solo sessions. The hope was after a few of those, we could start going through couples counselling and really get after our issues once the quiet period had passed.
This plan got sidetracked though. She hadn’t even begun to look for a therapist and I got hit with a triple whammy in February. Already reeling from the separation, and the lack of effort my wife had been doing over the past nine months, I received news my life long best friend Terry succumbed to his battle with PTSD and took his own life. His funeral was on the day of my 12-yr relationship anniversary, and I found out about it too late to attend. It was a sad and overwhelming time.
In the scheme of things, February was a much needed month. It was perhaps the first time I was able to just cry. I cried for the state of my marriage. I cried for my best friend. I cried for myself. I cried because I was depressed.
In February I cried.
February’s theme song: Pineapple Explosives – Ten Karat aka Terry Newsome Jr.