T brought home a drawing he did for me at daycare. He stuck it on the fridge.
It's a couple of orange lines wobbling their way down the page and around to the left. They're sharks and one of them is for me.
I felt love when I saw it. That line is running alongside my heart. I carry it around inside me. I stop and notice it sometimes and then the whole world glows a warm orange for me.
Love is often cited as part of or sometimes the whole reason why people stay in a relationship with a depressed partner.
The thing is, I don't feel it. I say "I love you" often enough. I mean it in a general kind of way. Or maybe by love I mean "I'll support you"; or even "I'll wait for you".
It certainly doesn't mean I'll do anything for you or I don't want to be away from you or even I desire you.
On the other hand I send him messages during the day (rarely responded to) and keep my eye out for books that he might like. I still very much keep him in the little ordinary parts of my day. I still want him there.
Perhaps I've missed out but love for me has never been one of those unconditional things. (I don't mean love for children.) And when it has been unconditional it's been wrong for me.
Apart from shared interests, humour and politics love has been built upon shared experiences, working together towards common goals, mutual support, empathy, comfort, admiration and respect. And at the end of the day we have derived joy from each other's company.
(I had to think carefully about that list. Each item is significant.)
When those things have failed, so has the relationship.
Depression seems to kill off almost all of them for most of the time.
In order to survive I've had to try and kill off my expectations about having those things. (Often I am unsuccessful. I think they're dead but they've just been waiting for a sliver of sunlight to sprout again. I use a lot of energy being vigilant and the times that I slip up cost me pain; but on balance it's worth it.)
So here I still am but my love for J is effectively dormant, sectioned and sedated for my own good; at least in the ways that have brought me happiness in the past.
There is still joy in my life and love too but it has other sources.
It feels like blasphemy to say it, but there it is. It makes me feel a little sad though not devastated. It is true for me.
How do others feel love in this situation? What does it mean?
I don't go in much for hope or faith either (sounding worse by the minute aren't I?) but I've replaced these, or at least aspire to, with qualities more pertinent to my life and that seem a better fit for me like acceptance, humility, informed action.
So I guess I'm reworking this love thing as well.
Flo
I relate completely to everything you say in your post, especially this: 'I say "I love you" often enough. I mean it in a general kind of way. Or maybe by love I mean "I'll support you"; or even "I'll wait for you".'
ReplyDeleteI try to give myself the love and support I used to receive from my partner. I try not to mind when I kiss him goodnight and he grunts and doesn't kiss me back. I try to keep my heart open to him as I wait..and wait..and wait for the man I married to return. I love that man. But this man? This depressed man? I'm honestly not so sure. I love him like I loved my mother in the last years of her life, stricken with dementia: out of pity, out of duty, out of respect for the persons she used to be. If I met my partner now, I wouldn't even like him. Love him? God, that's hard.
And yet, the fact that I'm still here is a form of love. The hardest love of all.
Flo,
ReplyDeleteI only let myself check your blog after a week or so has gone by - to build the anticipation, and savor it all the more, like an indulgence. this post in particular made that limiting and reward well worth it. my husband is "doing better". is truly remorseful for all he's done. wakes up in the middle of the night in tears, having dreamed that I've actually left him because of how he's treated me. so we've resumed kindnesses towards one another. we're acting like - well, like husband and wife, partners. we got a sitter and went to see a movie. and yet ... I don't know that the depth of feeling will return, if ever, or if that's a part of myself I've sectioned off. like your previous commentator, I also doubt that I'd like this man much, if not for duty, history, and respect. yet here I am, here we are. as ciched as it is, perhaps I love him, but I am certainly not "in love" with him.