What happens when the person you love most is not capable of supporting you?
What do I do now that a third major bout of depression seems to be rearing its familiar head? When after two and half years of being relatively ok, of making progress and achieving, I suddenly feel the icy water closing over my head again? When suddenly the only sunlight is that light refracted through the water as again my toes touch the gravel on the bottom of my mind?
This is our second time around. In 2013 after 7 years I called time on us because I could no longer take care of us both. I picked me. I had to, and it nearly killed me. I missed him all the time. Now after over 3 years back together, I stand frozen as my mind tries to look away from the possibility that once again I am doing this all by myself with nothing but the illusion of a team mate. A fair-weather companion who will shut down and withdraw at the first sign of my strength failing. Am I seriously here again? Rage. Despair. Indignation. Gut wrenching fear at the prospect of living through it all again.
So as I stare down my growing anxiety and notice myself withdrawing daily from my life so that I won’t have to hide this relapse from the people who know me best, I wait for my love to find it in himself to take my weight, to carry me along as I have done him in the past. I’m waiting for him to snap into action. To understand that this is when I need to be carried. I can’t say it. I open my mouth to speak and then close it again. I won’t beg.
I just let the horror of it wash over me. Either he hasn’t noticed that I’m in complete free fall. Or he has and is choosing, for whatever reason, not to try to catch me. Does he not have it in him after all these years?