I've been shattered by my wife leaving home in January, I had no idea how badly depressed I had been for so long - or how much it was upsetting her. That's depression at its most destructive, I guess. So I went from mild to severe depression and only the fact that I was left in the family home with our 3 children saved me from self destruction in the first few weeks. I'm exhausted and upset 24/7, but I have a reason to get up and put on a brave face.
I'm on Sertraline and it is definitely helping me to cope - I'm having paralysing anxiety attacks maybe twice a week instead of several times a day, so that's progress of a sort. The kids are being great, they know it upsets me when I see or speak to their Mum - it's not the contact but the coldness and the parting that gets me. I thought I was doing well until this week when I've had a couple of days of absolute despair. My son, who is ten, has got his little sisters up and got them breakfast and ready for school, while I've just about managed to get myself into shape to get them up the road and into school.
I know I'm not coping as well as a grown man should, but I am so proud of my children for understanding, in their own limited way, that Daddy needs help and that they can do a little bit to do that. I wish they didn't have to go through this, I wish that my wife (who I love above all, even now) understood that it's this wretched illness, not the me that is trapped behind it, that she's come to loath so much she's had to leave for her own sanity. I wish I could see a way forward that is also a way back. And if wishes were fishes we'd never go hungry.
There are no good days, but thanks to my little ones the bad days aren't quite so bad.