I have talked with H numerous times about reconsidering his refusal to consider antidepressants. I have read several researches that seem to suggest that some people with explosive anger can benefit from short term medication interventions. I understand the side effects. I understand the risks. I also understand the potential benefits.
My therapist brought this up to me on Saturday and reinforced her opinion that he needs meds.
The thing is, the decision belongs to H. What I now understand is that his decision carries consequences for other people. It’s a really personal decision and I respect his will, however, his refusal to even consider meds seems to pair well with the fact that he’s not putting in 1/25th of the effort that I’m putting in. This is work. It’s important work. Solitary work. This time I can’t do it for him, like everything else. My therapist suggested I tell him this isn’t going to work unless he goes on meds. She felt that strongly about it given the types of issues he has. I don’t feel that I can demand this because it impinges upon Greg’s will. I don’t feel that I can stick around for it if he doesn’t step up effort in one area or another.
I teach. H relies upon this aspect of who I am and unfortunately the type of learning we both need is individual-centered. That said, I can’t learn his lessons for him either. This truly is my life we’re talking about here. I cannot cease to exist anymore than I already cease to exist. I’m done. I’m bottomed out. I have to climb out or else the little that’s left of me will be gone completely.
[So what I think I’m hearing myself say is that I don’t have a choice anymore.]
Heh. I just paraphrased myself. Funny!
OK awesome. Now what.