Dealing with Depression: The Blame Game

Nyasha

Dealing with Depression: The Blame Game

Living with Kody during intense depressive episodes was a challenge. The person who I married wasn’t the person I dealt with during those times. We talked about it frequently and referred to the two Kodys as depressed Kody and happy Kody. Happy Kody was fun, playful, kind, and caring. Depressed Kody was moody, brooding, and mean. The two separate Kodys triggered the problems with depression and blame.

Of course in reality the two Kodys we’re the same person. There were varying degrees of happy Kody and depressed Kody. When I came home from work, I never knew what I’d get. Sometimes he’d seem happy initially and then I’d catch him glowering off into space.

One of the big problems was that Kody wanted me to be happy. I know it doesn’t sound like a problem, but it quickly became one. He knew I wasn’t happy when he was depressed. He couldn’t control the depression, so instead he masked it. Or if he really couldn’t hide it, I got absent Kody, the one who was gone late into the night and came home with no explanations.

I held onto a lot of blame with that. It was my fault he had to hide his depression. He didn’t want to be home with me and that had to be my fault. It didn’t help when he told me on multiple occasions that it was my fault and I was making him worse.

I know it isn’t my fault, but the blame still loomed over me. I wish I could give instructions on how not to blame yourself. Since I did it wrong, I don’t have great advice. I suppose just to go easy on yourself.

It’s so simple to get caught in the blame game blaming yourself or blaming the depressed person. Neither person is the enemy. Depression is the enemy.

After Kody died, it was difficult to avoid letting blame catch up to me. I blamed myself for not reaching out more. I was absorbed in my move to my new house. He wasn’t reaching out much. Its especially easy to blame yourself when someone chooses to die on the wedding anniversary you shared.

The truth is, it isn’t my fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Not mine. Not his family’s. Not even his. Depression is to blame.