Dating someone with depression buzzfeed told
Log in or sign dsting to create your own posts. Being honest about mental illness with the people you love is hard, living a lie is harder. Dating someone with depression buzzfeed am a liar and so are you and if you say you're not then you're lying. But believe me when I say that I don't condemn that, because there are some lies you can't avoid telling.
After all, you can't answer every "How are you? For the most part, people just want a "Yeah, not bad, you? And simple pickup project go dating, this in itself isn't necessarily lying; it's choosing to omit certain details to present a version of yourself you're happy with aquarius woman dating a libra man seeing.
Kind of like an Instagram filter IRL. The problem is that the lie you can't avoid telling is a slippery slope down to the lies you could avoid telling, if only dating someone with depression buzzfeed weren't afraid of people seeing you NoFilter. So, how am I? Well, in an effort to cut the bullshit: I have depression and it's properly fucking crap at times.
Especially when it comes to relationships. I have hidden my depression from damn near every girl I've ever dated, and even when I've been open about the existence of the problem, I've kept the daily grind of my feelings to myself. I was 16 when I got my first proper girlfriend, Susan. At the time, I didn't know I was actually depressed. I suspected I was, but I convinced myself that I didn't have a mental illness; I was just sad.
When I couldn't get out of bed, or wanted to sleep through the day, I datiing it up to being lazy, and I attributed all my moodiness to puberty. Now, I was, and still am, both lazy and moody, so in that respect my year-old self dating someone with depression buzzfeed bang-on. But when I look back from an older and marginally wiser perspective, I can see what I suspected, what I hoped, was true after all. I know "hope" seems a perverse thing to say.
Why would anyone hope they had depression? It wasn't that I wanted to be — that I thought my life was too normal and that I needed to have depression so that the angst-filled lyrics I dating someone with depression buzzfeed for depresaion band could have validity. It's just that as time wore on, and I got more and more sad, I needed an explanation. I needed to have a reason to cling to for why I felt worthless, why I felt so desperately deprezsion even though I was surrounded by people who loved me.
Despite their love, I simply couldn't speak to Susan, or any of the rest of them. What if they didn't believe me? I listened to My Chemical Romance and straightened my hair; who would believe that there was actually something wrong? Wouldn't they assume I was just some whiny emo kid, part of a subculture that glamorised self-harm and misery? How could they take me seriously when being sad was trendy? Even bhzzfeed importantly, I was a man well, a skulking pubescent creature drowned in Lynx Africa and men didn't cry.
And if you did, you were told not be such a girl. So I bottled my problems up, and life went on. Eventually the sadness faded and I felt vindicated. There was nothing wrong with me after all; I'd been moody and stupid. I felt glad that I'd not embarrassed myself by telling Susan. A part of me felt guilty for even considering that I might have depression. It's a skmeone fucking thing to have and there was me, feeling a little blue, belittling all the wjth who actually have it.
How could my sad possibly be as sad as theirs? Now, I don't want to go into all the gory details because quite frankly it gets pretty damn dark also, I can't look back without quietly singing the first few lines of "The Sound of Silence" to myselfbut my last year of university, I learnt another very valuable lesson: Ignore something long enough and it eventually tries to kill you, as I spent most of my energy trying to seem like I was fine while passively looking for a reason to keep on living.
Then I met Tanya. From the start, she had seen me at my most vulnerable xomeone not run screaming for the hills, but somehow this didn't bring me any comfort. I wanted to be honest, but knew that being completely open would be too much so early, because my anxiety and sadness were so constant. So I got into the terrible habit of hiding how I felt day-to-day.
I mastered the art of crying silently next to someone while they slept. Tanya was the best part of my life. I graduated and we did long distance. While she did her last datiing of university, I was stuck at home getting worse and worse. I was so desperately lonely and terrified of losing her, this one ray of light in the shit, that I became possessive. I needed to speak to her all the time. In my sadness, I'd cut myself off from all of my friends, and trying to hide the full extent of how suicidally depressed I was, I was becoming the one thing I didn't want to be: I was using Tanya as a crutch, so obsessed with my own ddepression that I couldn't be there for her.
Depression became toxic; I saw only myself. I was paranoid that I was ruining her life by being sad, not realising that it wasn't my sadness that would push her away but the way I was dealing with dating someone with depression buzzfeed. Still, we soldiered on. I started saving for a ring. And then my depression hit me with a heap of worthlessness. See, when you don't seek real help for what's eating at you, it skews your whole worldview. And here was mine: I was convinced that if we got married, I would spend my entire fating being sad for no reason and making her life miserable.
So if I truly loved her, it would be better to break her heart, cut myself off from her, from my friends, even from my family, and just end myself. I did the stupid and incredibly selfish thing of making a decision for someone I loved based on what I thought was best for them. I ended things, abruptly and callously, believing that the more dating someone with depression buzzfeed hated me the easier it would be for her to deal with what I planned on doing to myself.
As it happens I was too cowardly to off myself, and ran headlong into another relationship for comfort instead. I told Alex I had depression but hid how bad I was from her datjng one night I thought, "Fuck it. The next morning I couldn't move. Alex got me out of bed, dressed me, fed me, and made sure I got to work. I spent the day resenting her for making me face the world, being sad that she didn't ask me to dating someone with depression buzzfeed, and remembering the fear in her eyes and how scary it must have been to have me suddenly snap.