Here I am again, at the bottom, with no visible escape. I'm in a one room basement apartment at my in-law's house and I've been acting like everything is great around them. My husband, Eric knows I'm suffering but I almost feel like he really doesn't care or he thinks I shouldn't be feeling badly and so he scoffs at my state of mind. He made this decision to move out of our house and instead of renting an apartment, move into his parents. He's trying to make it comfortable for me here, but I'm not sure his efforts are doing it for me. We have one car that we share. I have a car-it's a piece of shit, but I do have a car. It's at the house right now in the driveway. He says that we can't have two cars here at his parents because there's no room in the driveway. I think that if I had my car here, instead of sitting in this basement, growing more sad and lonley, I would take the car and go to a Barns and Noble or something. I hate feeling stranded. Maybe he's used to me feeling depressed and anxious and that's why he's acting like he doesn't care? He's still looking for a job and I'm adjuncting 3 times a week for 5 hours at a clip so at least I get out then, but I really can't stand being here. I'm not sure that Eric makes me feel better when I'm like this-it just turns into a fight. All he does is tell me why I shouldn't be feeling this way and it's my power to change how I feel and then he gives me a laundry list of tasks that I should be doing to expand my career. That's why I don't really cry to him-he's not compassionate enough.