Hi Everyone -- thanks for your thoughtful and supportive replies, including those by email. I don't have any email privacy right now so I can't reply to those I received for another few days, but I read them and I thank you. You know who you are.

I have definitely tried talking to him about how I feel. When he's on Lexapro and stable, the conversations go semi-well. Not perfect, but certainly better than yesterday's. The problem is that he is exactly as Artist describes -- already feels like a failure and every time I try to talk about something I'm unhappy about, even if it has nothing to do with him, somehow it always turns into how he failed me in some way and it's really frustrating because it means I can't talk to him about ANYTHING without having to walk on eggshells; he is simply too defensive. Yesterday, after I posted the last time, I was at wit's end because I was late to meet our friends and my other friend who is visiting (who is also depressed and is struggling with an eating disorder and agoraphobia) was stalling so long that I was already late. My husband came downstairs, apologized, and said he would come with us but first he needed to take a shower. I got kind of choked up and stammery because it meant that we would be even MORE late, but I was still happy that he was coming... but before I could articulate that in a way that wouldn't upset my friend if he happened to overhear, my husband took my stammering the wrong way and flew into an uncharacteristic rage... screaming at me, throwing things; he broke a window shutter and ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door.

I was positively mortified. Not only could my friend hear, but so could my neighbors who were entertaining guests outside. Plus, the thrown and broken stuff was everywhere. We are NOT people who act like this... I wanted to die of embarrassment. I ended up crawling into the bedroom closet, closed the door, and bawled my eyes out. I just didn't know what to do -- how do I explain what had just happened? My husband is the furthest thing from a violent man -- but he did this once before, which prompted an emergency psych. visit to a clinic where he was given meds and a recommendation for a psychologist who specializes in severe depression.

We patched it up for the purpose of getting through the evening and all in all we ended up having a good time out with our friends. I know... it seems bizarre that we could get past it so quickly but I really didn't know what else to do -- staying in the house alone with those two was the furthest thing from healing I could envision. He has apologized profusely today and explained how he was feeling -- the same that Artist articulated, and it's all stuff I know as he has struggled with depression for as long as I have known him, which is 5 years. The feelings are nothing new -- intellectually, I understand all of it. I have almost limitless compassion and empathy -- but I can't take care of everything. I know that it's hard to schedule appointments for him and remember refills... but I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. If I trust him to manage it himself, then I get the "would you let him skip his meds if they were cancer treatments?". But if I get his meds for him, then I'm "enabling". I can't win. The stigmas get me coming and going.

My question is: when is it MY turn? When can I be the one to forget practicalities and responsibilities, and throw a tantrum or go back to bed when life doesn't work out the way I want it to? When will HE put his feelings aside because he sees that I'm upset and need comforting? Why do I have to keep both of us afloat?

I do all of the prescribed things to "take care of me"... yoga, socializing, my own work, time for me, etc... but it's not enough. I cannot tell you how tempting it is to self-medicate... but I don't have that 'luxury'. I know that it's really not a luxury but man, it feels that way to watch someone else crumble and not be able to do so myself because it wouldn't be practical or responsible. The recurring thought that feels the most comforting is putting my head in a vise grip and tightening it until my head smooshes and I don't have to think anymore.