I love my wife very much. We've been together for 17 years now, dated 10 + married 7 years. She's struggled with depression and anxiety for almost the whole time. 

It wasn't too hard in the beginning. But as we grew older, became adults, it got harder every day. Stress to make a living made the every day mundate tasks like brushing her teeth and showering harder for her. I thought letting her take a break from working would help her, but I was wrong. The isolation and loniness at home made it worse. She tried to go back to work but couldn't find a job, which made it even worse. It was a downward spiral with no end. 

We tried counseling. After the first session, the counseler told me she needs to seek medical help. She refused and also didn't continue counseling. She has no friends to talk to, and has only her mom who can barely tolerate her. I'm all she has to rely on.

I'm really trying to help her, but the emotional and physical toll is becoming too overwhelming. I don't get enough sleep regularly, I'm tired all the time which impacts me both on and off work. I have little of my own free time to relieve my stress. I feel like I'm trudging along every day hoping I can have a smooth day without any shit going down instead of living my life. I no longer have the patience to comfort her, every time shit goes down I thinking "not again" instead of being able to care for her. I hate myself for being like this, and I resent her for making me become like this. 

Two years ago it got really bad. I had to fight my urge to get a divorce every day. I started to cry for no reason. I broke down and cried really hard more than once because I couldn't take it any longer. I think she realized that I've been pushed past my limit and she tried to change to make me better. But she didn't really change, just bottled up her emotions to make me better at the cost of her own emotional wellbeing. Now she can't do it anymore and is starting to crack again. 

She just had another episode. I no longer have the patience for it and got upset as well. She's now in the bathroom taking an angry shower, crying and pounding on the walls. I'm sitting here angry at her for all this grief, while worried something bad will happen. I'm trying to surpress my anger and calm down so I can try to comfort her. If I can't do this she won't get better. 

Every time feels like it's beyond my breaking point. Yet I live on. I don't know how much more of this I can take.