The thing is I was already mentally on my last reserves a couple years ago when I first brought him over. I had spent 2020 terrified he was gonna die of corona (he worked in the health service back then and has a chronic lung condition), then spent 2021 fearing he was gonna commit suicide (he has untreated schizoaffective disorder, PTSD and depression and had a major mental breakdown that year).
My own mental health was hanging by a thread and finally getting him physically to Wales was SUPPOSED to be the start of a better life together. I didn't really have the personal or material resources to go beyond that. Yeah it was a naive expectation maybe but my life has been such a spectacular shit show I allowed myself to hope I was gonna catch a break. Stuff was just supposed to fucking WORK OUT for one single time in my life ffs.
... Now we're on the 2nd try and it's worse than before. It's a major clash of personalities. My mother feels like she's being invaded in her own home by his mere presence in it, and my man feels like he has to have a hand-written notice in triplicate just to breathe around her. I sacrificed everything to get to this point and where I'm at is a nightmare.
