My problem is not primarily situational. I think people with depressive tendencies have a penchant for getting themselves into lamentable situations. It gets to be like: "Which came first, the egg or the chicken?" Yes, I'm in a trying situation. Lots of people are. Lots of people cope. Contributers to this thread have taken on responsibilities that were tough and managed to cope. I've managed to cope with this caretaking role for a number of years.

Maybe I'll decide I can't continue. That option is open to me. Sometimes tough choices have to be made. That's life.

Even if I didn't have this man in my life, I'ld still have recurrent intervals of being depressed. That pattern was established long before we met. A mood disorder - I believe - becomes "hard wired." Then it's a chronic problem that, at best, can be successfully managed, but not eradicated. It's part of who I am.

I could have started this thread in the "relationship" forum. I'm here because I know my biggest problem is my tendency to get demoralized and want to give up. I'll be wrestling with that till the day they plant me. Life didn't cheat me and doesn't now. But life is hard. Living successfully is hard work. I'm avoiding doing a lot of the work. Because I just don't want to. I'm just not in the mood. Success in life comes to those who keep plugging away regardless of moods that come and go.

Being alone is unhealthy and not how humans function best. Being caretaker to an invalid can be isolating. It has become so for me. And me being in this role has lasted longer than I, or anyone, expected. Doctors and other professionals at the VA keep telling me that. Same with his family. They all came out months ago to say "final" goodbyes. The palliative care nurse who visits even said to him, "You've got everyone scratching their heads because you just won't die." I found that an odd thing to state so explicitly, but she's not alone with that thought.

Now, after 5 p.m., he's fully waking up . . . after seeming semicomatose on and off all day. He's watching TV alertly. All day he couldn't hold his head up or converse. That changes every evening. Same with me. I'm prone to morning depression. That's why I went to a pdoc for Ritalin, which was kind of helping. I ran out. Pdoc won't order more till I see him. I didn't know how soon he was wanting me back. So now I have an appt for early July. The pdoc's got to make a living.

I don't write in this thread because I feel I have a fascinating story to tell. Anyone can be forgiven for deciding that 17 pages depletes their capacity to take an interest. I don't know if I could listen to someone like me for this long. But PC members continue lots of threads beyond 17 pages . . . or they start thread after thread in close succession. Typically, they don't resolve their problematic situations any better than I've done. If there's one thing that I've seen here at PC, it's that the main trouble with chronic problems is that they're c h r o n I c. Living with psych issues is an ongoing story of improvement followed by relapse. I saw that pattern when I worked at a rehab facility for substance abusers. They kept coming back. I asked a doctor there how likely was it for anyone to get better? She said, "We have to redefine our notion of success." She said that "intervals" of doing well are successes, even if they don't prove permanent. She said we have to be glad for periods of remission. At AA, no one ever says, "I used to be an alcoholic."

I think what's wrong is that I haven't had a decently sustained period of remission in way too long. That may be situational. Neither has my guy. A "next" hospital admission is always right around the corner. I've already lost count of how many hospital admissions he's had in 2019. And it's now year upon year upon year that we've been doing this. It happens to others, but not usually this late in life. Families go through this with chronically ill children. My hat's off to them. This is not typical at end of life. The doctors in the VA ER sometimes look exasperated when we show up. That weighs on us also - feeling like we are an unwelcome burden on society.

He lives in the moment and doesn't get depressed. I have to think ahead to what will be needed in the next phase of his illness. Yeats said, "Too long a sacrifice makes a stone of the heart." Or . . . it makes mush of the mind, I'm finding.