Hold tight to your family

Today I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing.
I have had lots of zen days about this whole thing but over the last two days I've really hit a downward spiral.
I can't quite put my finger on where it started but there are a few things that have all contributed.

A big part of my concern stems from spending the last month reading this great blog. I started at the beginning (2001) and I've been reading all the way through. She makes me laugh out loud, has a dog that looks a lot like Francis, and a little girl (well two now). She also does a lot of talking about her struggle with depression, her honesty has opened my eyes in a lot of  ways to what I think Andrew has been dealing with throughout our marriage. I feel like I've been pretty understanding and concerned and supportive at the right points. But really I have to be honest and say I'm not sure I have been enough.
I know that I put up with a lot in our marriage, took care of a lot, was a very patient spouse. But lately I wonder. I'm sure that we never talked about Andrew's depression as much as we should have. Mostly that's because he didn't want to. That's what leads to my concern. Should I have ensured we had those conversations. Did I really do enough to support him where mental illness is concerned?
I've struggled with that question a lot, over the years and especially over the last few weeks. I thought I had come to a good conclusion:
I did everything I was able to do on my own. The difference between Andrew and Heather (the woman from the blog) is that she was willing to ask for help. She knew she didn't want to feel the way she did, she knew her family was the most important thing to her and she actively sought out the help she needed. Andrew for the most part did not make these decisions. I could not force him into help, could not force him to choose his family or make healthy decisions.
I was feeling pretty good with that rationale until Friday night when I read a blog posting by Heather's husband. This post just left me sad. It left me convinced I didn't do enough. Didn't find out enough about the medication Andrew was taking, exactly why he was taking it, what he needed from me.
Up until now I've been convinced that I truly did everything I could have to save my marriage. Now I'm not so sure.
I don't want to go back to where we were. I refuse to go back to where we were. I also can't walk away with all this on my mind and heart.

I've dealt with a lot of change in my life and there is always a moment of concern, fear, confusion in the midst of any change. The only way I've ever found to successfully move through those moments is to address them head on. In this case I think that means sitting down and having a conversation. I'm not sure I can continue to move on, to feel good about the decision I'm making until I at least address this.
I was just looking back over Dooce's blog to see if I could find a posting that would help you understand why she has had me thinking so much about this.
Here is the one that almost does me in every time.