“Will This Movie Make My Wife Cry?”

Every relationship has its secrets, but when my wife told me hers shortly after we said, “I do,” I kissed a longtime love goodbye.

I have a vivid memory of sitting at her parents’ house and watching a Johnny Depp shoot-em-up movie. We were dating at the time. While the screen flickered on our faces like thematic machine guns, she turned to me, perked with enthusiasm, and with red sauce on the corner of her lip, she said those beautiful words that would’ve made any man fall in love with her.

“I love pizza and beer.”

Wow, I thought. A gorgeous woman who loves pizza, beer, and movies like Public Enemies.

I knew I had to marry her. So, I did in January of 2014, but, after we married, something changed…

Don’t get me wrong, I love her more today than I did four years ago. She is kind, intelligent, funny, talented, and thoughtful. All of these attributes and more I’ve uncovered through marriage like the diamond treasures that shimmer in her grassy eyes.

But, the truth is, she doesn’t like shoot-em-up movies. She never has.

She doesn’t like Public Enemies. And, even worse, she never did. I was tricked into marrying a rom-com as if my life were a freakin’ rom-com.

As we cuddled in the ashes of the scorching truth, I found a movie we could watch together that wasn’t a shoot-em-up and wasn’t a rom-com. Perfect compromise, right?

I found The Butler.

My, oh my, how she wept at the closing credits. Having been a husband for a whopping two months, I patted her like I would a lost child at a Chuck E Cheese.

I was determined to make a wiser pick for the next movie night. I got Frank And Robot. 

Did you catch that? It’s called Frank And Robot. How sad can it be? It’s a movie about a cute old man and his robot pal. Homeward Bound would be a sadder choice. It’s called Frank And Robot! 

My, oh my, how she wept at the closing credits. Having been a husband for a whopping two months and now one day, I comforted her with the same confidence I’d have had I been hugging a stranger at a check-out counter.

So, that’s how my wife taught me to love rom-coms. Eventually, I’d even learn to change the channel quickly before any commercial that features an old man or a dog made her cry, and a little after that, I figured out how to actually be a good husband sometimes.

As a movie buff, I’ve often searched the world wide web for a site that would help me determine the likelihood that a certain movie would make my wife cry. It could be called something like willthismoviemakemywifecry.com.

I’m not sure why I’m so afraid of crying. I can count the times I’ve cried in my adult life on two fingers, but that’s not because I’m some emotionless brute. I am actually deeply emotional and highly sensitive. I think my aversion is due to some thought instilled in me from a young age that men don’t cry.  Now, the few times I feel tears welling up, I habitually make a stupid joke to distract myself. In reality, I know it is good to cry, and I wish I could better embrace that aspect of expressing emotion. If only my wife and I could be a pair of weeping willows together at a movie like Toy Story 3.

I can’t find any such website as willthismoviemakemywifecry.com, but if you decide to make it, please let me know. In the meantime, we’re sticking with rom-coms and slapstick stupidity, but, at least we’re together. And maybe I can learn to cry. Either way, pizza, and beer never get old.

“We All Need That Person; For Me, It’s My Wife”

“Sawyer, stop looking at me like that.” Sawyer’s my dog. He doesn’t speak English. I wish he did. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t love me as unconditionally. His small brain makes him loyal and willing to stay in bed until noon with me.

I have those mornings sometimes. I wake up with the kids and put on an Academy Award-winning performance until they leave for school. As soon as my wife Lauren leaves to drive them though, all the adrenaline gets sapped out of me and I crawl back into bed. 

At some point, I then make eye contact with Sawyer and decide I’m disappointing him. But I’m not. No matter how poor a mood you’re in, irrespective of how you look, or smell (actually, they prefer if you smell bad), dogs are there for you.

It’s that other species that live in our houses and works with us and has the nerve to say hello while we’re minding our own business walking our dogs, that’s the problem. Humans expect from us and judge us and are disappointed in us, and all of that makes revealing our vulnerabilities to them that much harder.

I waited a long time to tell each person in my life that I struggle with anxiety and depression. There were practical reasons I kept it to myself – I didn’t want to burden others; I didn’t want it to affect me professionally; I haven’t picked up my cell phone since 2012 – but ultimately it came down to this: I was embarrassed by it. And the reason
for embarrassment was different for each person in my life.

My parents know I take Prozac. But the flow of information to them pretty much ends right there. I have determined that the stress it puts on them outweighs any benefit of support they can offer me. Not to mention the fear of disappointing them, the concern they view it as an indictment of their parenting, and probably most prominently, the reality that they just have archaic views on mental health.

As for friends, until about a month ago when I put my website up with the word “depression” in the header image, no one knew. To a degree, you never stop feeling like you’re in high school and want other people to like you.

Although, Lauren and her friends are slightly better about opening up to each other about their problems. They confide in each other about their issues, and how each of their husbands is dealing with some sort of neuroses or addiction. It’s actually kind of funny when we get together because clearly the wives go back and tell their husbands what they discussed with their friends. So everyone knows how screwed up everyone else is, yet no one ever brings it up when we’re together. Instead, when we go out to restaurants, we sneak our Xanax under the table and pop it into our mouths when we think no one is looking.

Since my site went up, people have come out from under trailers practically to tell me they’ve struggled too (I’m not sure why I used “trailers,” as no one within 50 miles of me has a trailer). Some are internet friends whom I’ve never met. Some are actual people in my life. It’s both relieving and sad to hear from others about their struggles. Of course, this momentary connection doesn’t mean they want me calling them next Thursday to tell them I’m having a bad day.

And then there’s Lauren. For years while we were dating, I withheld my depression from her. My default setting was to portray myself as masculine and strong, as that was what I thought an attractive male was. Lauren now knows everything (well, almost everything. I’ll get to that in a minute). I’d like to say it’s because of the progress we’ve made to break gender stereotypes. Or even that I’ve determined she’ll love me “in sickness and in health.” In reality, it’s because you really don’t have a choice when you sleep in the same bed as someone. There’s just nowhere to hide from them (Well, technically there is if you fall asleep on the couch every night with a spoon of peanut butter in your mouth).

Sure, there are small things I still keep from her. For example, she’ll be annoyed to find out in this very sentence that I’ve been lying to her about hating the taste of Craisins, when in fact I don’t eat them because of some weird OCD reason I won’t even get into here.

And I’m not getting rid of my therapist so fast. We all need someone without a dog in the fight who we can reveal our most crazy thoughts to, and frankly, who we can complain about our spouses to. My marriage is ripe with complications like any good marriage is.

But you still need that person who isn’t peeking at the clock while you spill your guts out, and is available on weekends, and isn’t four-legged. You need someone who you can take your manhood or womanhood and put it aside and crumble before them. Without that person, you’re going to explode at some point.

For me, that person is my wife. Thank God I’m so handsome.

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Author of the upcoming memoir, What Could Go Wrong – My Mostly Comedic Journey Through Marriage, Parenting, and Depression, Brett is an attorney and lives with his wife and two preschool children in Bergen County, New Jersey. 

Visit Brett at brettgraysonbooks.com

 

Photo by Molly Belle on Unsplash

Is Your Husband Depressed? Look For These Signs

Many men are depressed–most just don’t know it yet.

Because guys tend to call depression by the names anger, irritability, stress, nights alone, promiscuous sex, pornography, masturbation, one-more-drink, most mislabel the deeper issue and, in turn, fashion themselves into ticking timebombs. Words like depression, anxiety, suicide simply aren’t in the vocabulary of a macho-man, and internalization is all we know.

Over decades, we’ve been conditioned to swallow our emotions, hold back tears, and bury our secrets lest anyone call us a wuss, pansy or a human. No wonder 7 out of 10 suicides are male.

By the way, I still can’t let myself cry.

What makes matters worse is the biggest obstacle between men and their mental health is typically their own obstinate pride. We can’t fight past our giant egos and that’s where our better halves can save the day.

That’s right. Wives. While we’ve been hiding scars under frail armor and saving face for dragons, women bear the blatant truth: the damsels aren’t the ones in distress.

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“Many men are depressed–most just don’t know it yet.”

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In conjunction with my wonderful, beautiful, patient, loving, caring, no-bull-shit wife, we’ve determined the top signs a spouse can look out for in his/her husband. These signs might help you begin to shed a light on a household darkness, and they are ones that might be most apparent to a spouse.

For a complete list of signs and symptoms, check out Do You Struggle With Depression? 7 Things To Evaluate.

Irritability/Constant Stress

Is your husband impatient, irritable, or just plain angry? Chances are, beneath that bull-dog facade, there is a whimpering puppy. Men, especially, show their depression, anxiety, and mental illness through general irritability.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said, “Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not, and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”

Sex

Perhaps you’ve noticed he’s lost his appetite for sex. Though it’s easier said than done, try not to take the perceived rejection personally. He loves you and thinks you’re hot stuff, but he could very well be suffering from an unrecognized bout of depression which pillages the soul of delights.

Nurture your husband. Despite culture’s claims that we are but sex-crazed brutes, we need emotional care, especially from our wives. After all, is not S-E-X a Spiritual and Emotional eXperience for both individuals? It’s never just physical.

Numbness

On date night, in the flickering candlelight of your favorite Italian restaurant, across the two-top that is clothed like a wedding cake with cabernet toppers, you look into your husband’s eyes and what do you see?

Nothing.

Been there before?

A dismal outlook on life or a general struggle to engage with others can certainly be signs of a roaring inner darkness. Men who feel numb or who are constantly striving for numbness (through substances, habit or distraction) often are depressed, and in need of professional help to reemerge into the world.

My wife, Lindsey, is to the point that if she sees that “look in my eyes,” she knows I’m struggling.

Mental Disorganization

When Lindsey told me she thought the state of my closet coincided with the state of my mental well-being, it was if she reached into my head and flipped the switch for me. She was right. When my closet is clean and organized so is my head. And when it is teeming with half-dirty pants, wrinkled tees, and crispy socks, well, so is my head.

I don’t know if the disorganization triggers the depression or the other way around (I can hardly make sense of anything in my head), but I do know that in depressive episodes I am more forgetful, more easily overwhelmed, and I have a harder time accurately interrupting reality.

 

In the end, my wife has a front-row seat to my life, and she is more than willing to jump into the game whenever I need back-up. It’s not just my life anymore. It’s ours.

Many men are depressed–most just don’t know it yet. It comes out in anger, sexual issues, numbness, or mental disorganization among other things. Please don’t take what I say here as ammo for a witch hunt into your husband’s closet. But, patiently evaluate your household, come alongside your husband, seek support, and nudge him toward a more acute self-evaluation and professional help.

Lastly, it, unfortunately, needs to be said that if your husband is in any way an abuser, his mental illness is no reason for you to stay. Seek help and safety first for yourself and your family. Each of us is mentally responsible for ourselves.

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See also:

How To Love Someone With A Mental Illness

How To Love Someone Without A Mental Illness

How To Love A Loved One When Death And Despair Strike

My Gift Is Her Given: The Lesson After The Fight

My wife (Lindsey) and I, after a night of passionate, riveting, and seemingly never-ending (…uh…how do I put this?) arguing, decided to dissect our feelings the morning after like we were back in 10th-grade biology class poking at a dead frog.

“It seems black and white to me,” I’m guilty of saying.

“But, you’re not acknowledging my feelings,” she pled.

Like all good married couples, our biggest fights are about…well…nothing. They are simply eruptions of hoarded emotions mixed with a moment’s feeling of hurt. It’s like one of us chases the other deeper and deeper into a forest and then at one point, we both stop, turn around, and ask ourselves, “how did we even get here?” Then we wind up poking a frog. If you’re married, and you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m sorry to break it to you, but you might not be married.

So, there we were dissecting the argument on the living room couch, and, after about an hour of ripped amphibian appendages, we discovered something brilliant.

But, before I get into that, first, some insight:

A Story About Me

I have a party trick.

One party trick.

And when I’m at my wife’s high school friend’s surprise 30th birthday party at which I don’t know a soul, and to them, I am merely a Facebook picture come to life, I depend on my party trick like it’s my ticket to the cool table in heaven.

I really hate to ruin the surprise in case you and I ever find ourselves mingling at the same shindig, but here it is: I can open a beer bottle with my wedding ring.

I’m no Houdini, but, c’mon, I pretty much am.

So, I am at this party, doo-doo-dooing like a middle school kid who skipped a grade, pretending to admire the wall art, and I notice this guy with that look in his eyes while his palm is choking the neck of a beer bottle. He wants to drink his Southern Tier, but he can’t find an opener.

“I can open it for you,” I said. “With my ring,” I said. “It’s my party trick,” I said.

“Oh no, I couldn’t put you out like that.”

“No, I really can…It’s no big deal…It’s a $40 wedding ring.”

“Ha…” it was the painful kind of ha. “Nooo, I’m good.”

I saw clear through his forced grin.

Dammit.

Not only did I put myself out there and then treated like I was trying to get him to smuggle cocaine through the backseat, but I didn’t even get to show-off my one party trick. He snuck off to confide in a bottle opener, seemingly backing away from me like I was about to stick a balloon up somewhere.

Ah…beautiful wall art. 

For the rest of the night, I avoided this guy like he was my greatest embarrassment eating pizza to my shame. That one fleeting awkward interaction almost ruined my night.

So, yeah…I’m pretty sensitive. Even opening up enough to offer a random dude a simple favor can be a big deal for me, and when he denies my generosity, I wrinkle like a prune.

My wife, on the other hand, she returned peed-on pregnancy tests.

I’m not joking.

A Story About My Wife

I knew she could return anything after she marched into a big-name store, complaining about the breakfast tray we’d had for over a year, that we accidentally dropped sometime after the dog chewed the corner of it, and she came out with a new one.

I’d never been more in love with her.

Well, until…

We were trying for number 2–baby number 2, that is–and, she bought two boxes of pregnancy tests that turned out to be toys or thermometers or some other pointless stick-like uselessness. Basically, they didn’t work. She peed on two, and they did not work. Still, not only did she take the boxes back to the big-name store with an expectation of getting her money back, she actually took the used ones too. And it worked! They took them back and returned her money.

I can only imagine the look on the employee’s face as she pinched the corner of the box like she was holding a string of acid, eking out an “Okay…have a nice day…”

But, that’s my wife, and I love her for it. She is a doer, a go-getter, an achiever in a way I’ve only fantasized about. She doesn’t get bothered by awkward interactions, she’s not overly sensitive, and, in general, she is bold and confident and sexy…oops that slipped out.

My Gift Is Her Given

So, again, there we were, sensitive me and go-getter Lindsey, dissecting the argument on the living room couch, when, as if the frog had eaten a nugget and we’d found it, we struck gold.

Because I am so sensitive, when opening up to someone, in general, I release a piece of introspection like it is a gift–a valuable gift–a part of me that I’m breaking off of my character, because it’s not easy for me to open up. I hate conflict, I don’t love attention, and I don’t like awkward situations. When I share even the smallest piece of me with someone, it is a strain and, therefore, an honor to that relationship, and it is a gift.

Lindsey, because of her Type-A personality, considers sharing a personal thought to be more of a given. If it needs to be said, she’ll say it, and, pretty much, what happens happens.

We are grafted together in marriage, and so we are forced to evaluate how we communicate with one another and to consider how we each might accommodate the other. Having coined the brilliant concept of gift versus given, each of us gained insight into the other person’s unique wiring.

Sometimes, I feel needlessly hurt by her, simply because of the tiny nuances in her tone or facial expression, or when she just “says it how it is.” Other times, she feels hurt by me because I can be hesitant to open up to her, my wife, the one person who sees me naked almost every day (if she’s lucky).

Neither of our approaches is better or worse; they are equally good and valuable elements of our relationship that make us who we are as a couple. The realization that some people share their feelings as a gift while others treat them more as a given, hopefully, will improve our communication and increase our empathy toward one another.

We are slowly learning this thing called marriage, but most importantly, we are learning each other. And now I know that my gift is her given.

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When you share your thoughts or feelings, do you view it more as a gift or a given?

 

 

My Wife Was A Complete Stranger At The Altar

When you first get married, love is shallow.

After four years, you figure it all out.

Just kidding.

But, it really does get better and better. At least, that’s been our experience.

Today, January 31, is the four-year mark of our marriage, and I can honestly say that I love my wife more today than I did last year, the year before that, and before that and so on and so on.

When thinking about marriage as a single person, I remember worrying about stupid stuff. I mean, stupid, shallow, selfish stuff.

Meaningless standards and unrealistic expectations compiled anxiety in my gut.

When will our perfect relationship hit the fan?

What about when we get old and gross?

What about when she has it coming out both ends? 

But, it’s those things I feared that, on the other side, have made me love her even more and recognize that such worry was a clear sign of immaturity.

When we were engaged, multiple well-meaning geezers said things like, “You don’t know her yet…just you wait!”

That scared me. I hated those statements.

What kind of secrets is she hiding?

Is she going to murder me someday? 

But, today, I see such comments in a different, more hopeful light.

It’s true! I didn’t know her four years ago and, to be honest, I was missing out. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. My desire to marry her was based on a shallow hope and a faint belief that we just might make a good couple.

It was a naive hope, but it was good and I guess it got us this far.

So, yes, I married a stranger, but I couldn’t have known the wonder of that fact had I not taken the risk.

My wife is active, inspiring, supportive, funny, smart, creative, sexy, cute, and beautiful.

Yes, beautiful.

I talked to my best friend the other day about her. “She keeps getting more beautiful,” I said. “And with every baby she creates, she gets prettier.”

That’s not some cheeseball fluff I-want-to-get-laid statement.

I mean it.

I understand that she might not believe me, especially twenty-three weeks pregnant with our second child, but it’s true.

It’s true, Linds. 

We most definitely have not figured this whole marriage thing out, but if I were to go back in time and scrounge up one piece of advice for my single self from four years of teaming up, arguing, fighting, building a life together, loving, serving, succeeding, failing, being selfish, and being selfless, I’d say this:

The future happens one moment at a time. Cherish your spouse in every moment, and your love will deepen with every season.

It’ll be hard, but it will be worth it.

31U: Lindsey

three questions. one of you.

Periodically, I will be asking a friend three questions about his or her experience with mental illness. This person might be a guy who deals with mental illness or someone (like my wife) who is a supporter. Over time, the 31U series will show how men of all sorts, with all backgrounds, and of all personalities can be inflicted in a variety of ways and how loved ones can better understand and support them. The hope is that this series will serve as a reminder for those in darkness that we are not alone in this fight, and that it will be a helpful resource for supporters.

Want to know details about the intimacy of my marriage? Not that, you sicko. Meet my wife, Lindsey. We have been married for three and a half years, and she has been a fantastic support to me throughout our time together. We have both grown in understanding how to be married while dealing with a mental illness. She works for SpringHill Camps, is a fantastic cook, and an active go-getter – we are opposites. Five years from now, she wants five more kids, a mansion on a lake, and a Ferrari. She’s not getting any of those.

What is your experience with mental illness?

Personally, not much. It’s a hard thing for me to grasp and to really understand. I always thought that people have direct ownership, control, and responsibility over their thoughts and actions. Not until our son was born and I started diving into this a little deeper with Doug have I begun to scratch the surface of understanding how insurmountable that thought can be for people dealing with mental illness.

What were some of the major signs and symptoms you noticed?

He would often withdraw from me and close friends. Irritability was a major sign. I didn’t feel like I could lean on him for anything, and I felt like I always had to be the strong one. He was hesitant to go places or see people even when they were close friends. He often second guessed my love and the love of others. He lacked laughter, didn’t want to do any physical activity, slept longer, and ate less.

What tools, resources, or strategies have you implemented to help support your loved one?

LOTS OF PATIENCE (I try but don’t always succeed!). I try to ask a lot of questions to help me be more empathetic to how he thinks and what he’s going through internally. I don’t naturally understand a lot of what he goes through, but as I learn, I can better speak to the person, instead of the situation. I make an intentional effort to be affirming and address Doug’s heart whenever possible, instead of just the circumstances.

I appreciate when he shares articles with me that he’s found to be helpful. It helps me better understand mental illness from a third person point of view, and I know that it is validating to him to read and share. Many blogs and articles offer valuable insight, practical tips, and relatable stories, to help ensure both struggler and supporter know they aren’t alone.

It’s important for both of us to talk to a few close friends about the journey. It’s vital that he has a diverse support system made up of me, close friends, family, and professionals. But it’s equally important for me to have a support system. Mental illness in a marriage affects both spouses, and it is important to take intentional strides in community for the health and benefit of our relationship and each of us individually.