My depression or yours...

I haven't written on here for a while, not because things are good, just because i am so focused on coping. Things are better in some ways, we are not at the door of financial ruin any more which is nice but that's also the problem.  For two years i have been "coping", any by that i mean so focused on "being ok" that nothing else counts, not my feelings or fears or anything. I have got so good at this now that i can do it for literally years before i go to peices. But i did go to peices. I felt more and more stretching and thin (in my mind only... pity) and then one day i woke up and i couldn't stop crying. I had to call in sick and sit on the sofa all day feeling empty and hollow. Like i used to, like the black hole inside me was back. That scared me half to death. So imagine my delight when himself got a job, a good one (ish), and we wouldn't have to steal coffee and loo-roll from the office anymore. And we can maybe start putting his dream into effect - in the long run. At least we have a shot now. And now he could stop being sullen and withdrawn and we could be happy again. But this hasn;t happened. If anything he is even worse. He says he hates the job and comes home all absent and missing. I was so hoping that now things were normal that he could look after me for a change. That he could comfort me, keep the house tidy and do the "coping" for me and that i could relax and recover and reconnect with the self that i have been ignoring and hiding for so long. But instead i am having to go on, past the point of what i can deal with, on the edge of going to pieces every single day and it makes me so angry. I have my dream job but i haven;t been able to enjoy a single day of it for two years because every day when i go home i walk into a wall of unhappiness and either all the fun gets sucked out of it, or i feel guilty for stealing milk and sugar from the office cupboards or guilty for having a job at all when he didn't. Surely now it is my time to enjoy myself and be pampered. I cook every night, i clean and manage the finances, i call his Mum to check she's ok and spend every waking hour thinking how we can make his dreams come true and he has the audacity to be glum and silent. I know he has depression and i can;t blame him but i am so angry. I deserve to have time for me now. I deserve to get what i want and be told every day how patient and supportive i am but instead i get a sullen lump and a total lack of response. Last night he stopped sex half way though and said his head wasn;t in it and i felt so wretched. Like i wasn;t even good enough for that. Any that is the one thing i can always count on from him - hie will always fancy me (thank god). So that was very sad when i wasn;t fanciable enough last night. I froze up and curled in on myself and tried tomakethe world go away and he was so confused and hurt. He wanted me to support him though being distracted but i felt like i had been punched in the stomach. My skin tried to crawl off my body in shame.  Today i am "coping" again. I will go home tonight and cook and clean and try to encourage him to look for premises for his business. I will be enthusiatic that we are making progress in paying off our debts and say what fun this weekend will  be when we go visit family. And inside i am screaming to be noticed, screaming for help and crying like a little girl to feel so lonely.   And he'll try. He'll try so hard to help me but i can see the weight on his shoulders and the effort it takes just to hold himself up in his chair. And my heart will go out to him and then i'll feel myself falling and the only way to stop is to be angry. To be so angry at him that i fantasise about XXXXX and focus on it so hard that i feel like i have a way out. And then i know i can;t because i love him. But the fact remains that i'm angry. I snap and snarl and have no patience and overreact to everything. I resent the fact that i am still having to cope. I resent the fact that i am being strong again. I resent the fact that he doesn;t say more often that he appreciates what i am doing. I resen the fact that if i donp;t get him up for work he won;t get out of bed and then he'll lose his job and we'll be back to square one. I resent the fact that if i don;t pay the bills we'll be evicted and back to square one. I resent the fact that he says i don't have to do these things when he knows full well that if i don't he won't. I resnt the fact that whne i cry and scream and shout he closes down like a tube worm and won't comfort me. I resent the fact that it is his past which makes our present horrific and yet he is opting out of fixing it and i have to do everything. I resent the fact that he has depression (how dare he!) and that he won;t go to the docotr, make any effort to sort it out, or even talk to his friends about it. I resent the fact that i am his wie, his housekeeper, his counsellor, his accountant and his bedfellow but i'm not allowed to share the weight of all that with my friends, not allowed to tell them how things are because he'll be ashamed. So i share them with him and i can see every sentence hurts him. I carry this on my own, my bones are creaking under the weight of it. My head is leaking under the pressure and i have nowhere to go. I'm so tired.