**Letter I wrote after an ultimatum of *start getting help or the kids and I have to physically and permanently separate from you.*

My Dearest Jase,

I love you but I can not help you right now. I’m sorry for the silence and the distance, but our lives have brought us to a point (with kids and work and ministry and schedules) where I can no longer carry you on my back. For years, I’ve gone through the constant ups and downs of your conditional emotional state and have tried to help you through your periods (years) of mediocrity and loneliness and lack of fulfillment and lack of passion / joy, by carrying you on my back. This life journey is a freaking mountain, Jase, and I can no longer carry you and our three children and try and work myself up the mountain side as well. By trying to do so, I’m less of a wife and less of a mom and less of a human being because that load is much too massive of a burden for anyone to carry.

It’s taken 15 years, but I think I’ve finally come to understand that you suffer from some serious form of co-dependency and depression. When your job, your wife, your children, your friends and your family lack the sufficient (in your eyes) responses to make you feel loved and valuable and create self-worth and a worthy self-image, your entire being cracks. You no longer have hope or passion or joy. Look back over the 15 years we’ve been together. Think about family vacations, birthdays, dates between us, activities with the kids, contacting your family and your friends… I can only count a handful of times that you planned to date me, only a couple of times that you took charge of two of our kids’ birthdays. Just in the last year alone: our family photoshoot, the video montage you made for the kids before you left to Afghanistan, our several campings trips… even the camping trip you went on with Malakai and the photo album you made… all my idea. I know you were planning that river trip with my dad but that was already planned out by my dad and when that crumbled, you resigned to just wanting to stay in our backyard…

You said it yourself – on Friday night – you are on the verge of cracking and you will feel joy and you’ll feel as if the crack-healing will begin, once you get star29 up and running. You mentioned nothing of God. Nothing of passion and joy and love. You stated you still believe in God but that you’re not at a place where you’re seeking him right now. For the last two days (when I’ve been home) you are completely checked out and laying on the couch. For the last hour, you’ve been in our backyard, just sitting on a chair… hopefully finding hope and drive and ambition again… through God. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to see you in this position and want to have such hope for you and to cheer you on but I’ve seen this from you, nearly every year and I’m emotionally spent on this roller-coaster.

With Youth Specialties and Star29 and WAY-Fm and 5Q Communications and Wall Street on Demand and now with Survey Gizmo, you’ve gone through this “robot” phase where life seems bleak and black and white and I’m struggling to get you on my back and ride my wave with me just so that I can possibly force you to have joy. And it may seem like you have joy but it’s temporal and wears off as soon as the activities and my efforts stop. When I pull back, our relationship is NOTHING. There is no pursuit, no perceived effort of any care or concern. Currently, we’ve barely said anything to each other since Friday night (it’s Monday night). The most tragic part is I feel I’m married to Jesus but the truth is, you consistently blame-shift, flee when faced with wrongs you have committed and sink further into your hole. That’s not even mentioning the times you’ve thrown me under the bus while venting to your friends about how you hate being under my microscope or that I’m digging into your phone or that I’ve got issues… is that why you’ve never opened up to me? I’ve poured out my heart to you with the things that I’ve struggled with and how I desperately need accountability, how I need to know you care enough about me to ask me about these struggles. And I get nothing. Absolutely nothing. As if you don’t give a shit. Is it because, like you’ve told me, you feel it’s more loving and trusting to keep distance instead of holding each other accountable? Is it because if you question my actions, then I actually have a right to question things you’ve struggled with and then the Jesus-facade you’ve created in this marriage will crumble? Oh, to know and love the man behind the curtain…

Like I said on Friday night, if you can’t trust me with your deepest and darkest parts of your life then how in the world can I trust you with mine? Also, how in the world can I fully love a person that I don’t fully know? Your reply is that you don’t even know who you are and that’s a scary kind of person to have as a husband! Your reply to our 9 year old daughter’s excited hello (as she welcomed you home from work tonight) and eagerness in asking “How was work?” should never have been “same ole crap.” Your response to our 12 year old son’s excitement over helping with the Sister Carmen food drive over the weekend should have never been constant nagging about what he shouldn’t be doing or frustration (as you kept grumbling about it to me) over the numerous cookies he had been eating. Your response to my pulling back and putting up a barrier lately should not be further silence and distance from you. But, at least with that one, I’m hoping it means you’re turning to God and seeking help and direction…

So, now my protective barrier is up. Not only for me, but for our children as well because this sort of thing (your distance, silence and robot-zone) happens yearly. Only this time, I can’t glue any of this back together. I’ve now realized that I’ve been hurting you to carry you on my back. Despite your desire not to, you’ve placed way too many things in place of God as Ruler, Authority, Passion-Giver and Love of your life. Your jobs, your co-workers, your bosses, your children, me…

I said it Friday night and I’ll say it again: when I had my lowest-life-moment back in 2009, I knew I wasn’t what I needed to be as wife and mom. I sought help and started seeing a counselor. There’s nothing you could have ever done to have helped me through that phase in my life, just as I’m unable to help you through this low-dry period now. If you love your wife and children, you’d actually do something to get help and get better – rather than constantly complain that you don’t know how to act or that you’re ready to crack and then be forever short-tempered when dealing with all of us. I know you saw a counselor before but a counselor that gives advice on how to deal with a wife and children, when he hasn’t even taken the time to get to know his patient – through and through – is working from a fictional foundation. You’ve spent many years writing off some of your serious issues as being my fault or your son’s fault or the fault of your upbringing. It’s time to grow up and start owning up to responsibility.

If you’d rather not get help, then that’s your choice because I can’t force you to get it. But please know that I will do everything in my power to protect these kids from a man saying he’s about to crack, saying he doesn’t know who he is and from a man that seems like he’s got such a short fuse. Unpredictability is a scary thing in fragile and sinful human beings that have no hope, no joy, no passion and no gripping strength in our God. I don’t know what that means, other than continuing to live together as if we’re separated. I’ll be cordial but I won’t be at rest around you as long as you are unstable (saying you don’t know who you are and saying you’re about to crack). I refuse to let your depression suck the hope, joy and passion out of me and our children. I love you but I can’t help you. I hope and pray that you find the strength, endurance, faith, joy and passion that you are seeking.

Love,
jen