Love again (and violence, pain & other cheerful stuff)

My friend Jane and I went to school together and misspent quite a lot of our youth in each other's company. Over the last year or so we've only managed to communicate over the phone though. And in that time she's been swallowed up by an abusive relationship and a drug addiction.

Last week she was nearly killed by her partner. He ripped her clothes, punched her in the face and tried to strangle her. She escape with her life because she was sober and could run down the stairs, get in her car and drive away.

She ran to her sister who called the police. She went to court to see him and talk with him but was instead confronted by his lawyer and a counter-claim of self defence.

And yet when he called later that week and said he loved her, she agreed to meet with him and talk things through.

"I know how stupid this looks," she said. "If it were a friend of mine telling this this I'd think they were an idiot. I can't explain why I love him and why the rest of that stuff doesn't matter. It should but it doesn't."

Recognising limitations

I wholeheartedly accept that the world is round and that I need to pay my taxes and even that Colin Firth can really act if he needs to. But I don't have to do anything about those things do I?

I mean the world will keep on turning (with or without us, hopefully, but let's not get into climate change right now). And unless I suddenly morph into a corporate entity with so much money that I can find ways to keep every last cent of it to myself, I will need to keep on giving Caesar his due along with the rest of the great unwashed.

And as a member of the great unwashed, it's people like me that keep Colin Firth's career afloat I suppose. Heck, my ramblings have inadvertantly led to me to find some way to make a difference...

Anyway my point is that it's a lot harder to actually accept that being in a relationship with a depressed person will mean living with limitations specific to that. And in the process of figuring out precisely what I can in fact live with I have to acknowledge what these limitations are and how they'll manifest and whether I'm ready to deal with them.

Travel is one that I've bumped up against this week.

Chemical imbalance

I've been reading Slow Death by Rubber Duck: How the toxic chemistry of everyday life affects our health (Rick Smith and Bruce Lourie).

According to this book our bodies are absorbing toxic substances that are in the objects which surround our modern lives - everything from pesticides in food and waterways to fire retardants woven into our clothes and emanating from the back of TV sets.

I just wonder whether these chemicals also affect our mental health.

A question of choice

It helps to remind myself that I choose to stay in this relationship.

And I get to make that choice over and over. In fact when I think about it like that I feel greatly empowered.

Every single day (or more often if I want) I am able to review my decision. I can make it again and it can be the same as yesterday or it can be different.

In the past I've been caught up in the idea that I've made a commitment, that I made the decision once and that I am bound to follow through on that commitment come hell or high water. And then when I've made the choice to go it's felt almost impossible, like I was defying some kind of universal law of physics or something.

But in fact it's not that way. It never has to be. I suppose it can provide a sense of security to think that a promise once made to stand by someone is an iron clad guarantee, but it's a false security.

A relationship has to be an active thing; a decision made with every interaction. I guess that can be a bit stressful in a way. But it's preferable to the alternative where no-one has any power over their own situation.

Today I'm choosing to stay. J has been making an effort. A real effort that involves housework and kindness. He seems to be making some choices as well.

Flo

Please add to this list

Depression isolates the sufferer and those around them.

The stigma and lack of general understanding in the community make it hard to get help and hard to feel like you fit in anywhere.

I just thought I'd share some of the things I've done specifically to re-connect with people and fight that isolation.

If people have other suggestions please add them to this list.

Derailed

J's best friend's mother has died. J hasn't seen her for a couple of years but he spent a lot of time with her family when he was young. They provided a safe haven for him when his own home was dangerous and he also had much more in common with them.

I think he reached out to me. I came home to find five missed calls on the mobile but no messages. When I called him back he was upset but also hostile. Perhaps I wasn't sad enough for him.

I happened to ask if there was anything else he had called about and he took this as insensitivity to what has happened. Is it? I didn't mean it that way.

The truth is I have very few reserves of sympathy left for him. That's terrible I know. It's just that everything is a potential disaster and every event is potentially a trigger for the same response.

Something's changed (for the better)

There's been a bit of discussion around being able to tell the difference between behaviour resulting from depression and behaviour that is not to do with the illness.

If only it were as simple as telling Dr Jekyll from Mr Hyde. As I've mentioned before, J experiences some physical changes when he's in a deep depression. His eyes are red-rimmed and his pupils shrink. The muscles in his face sag and he hardly seems to be able to drag his body around for the weight of it. But it's not always so straightforward.

The last few days have been interesting. The person I've seen emerge since this week's blow-up has definitely not been a man that I've seen much of through the depressive fog. Perhaps something in my demeanour changed. Perhaps I was finally serious about separating myself (physically as well as emotionally) from the situation.

Something's not right - Part II

He's 25 and charming. As the guests drifted away from the wedding reception and towards the bus stop (yes we caught a bus home from the wedding - classy!) he put his arm around me.

It was probably to steady himself as much as anything. But yes, it was flirtatious.

Apparently this is the image that has haunted J since the night before last. He feels that my behaviour was disrespectful and that I had obviously enjoyed his company less than that of others on the night.

Something's not right

I think he knows that I saw the online sex website. Either that or he's found this blog.

Then again, it could be just about anything. This morning he was very, very distant. He was on the couch, on the computer when my son and I woke up this morning. He ignored me completely.

I asked him what was wrong and he was evasive. I followed him into the bedroom a little later to ask again and he snapped back quite angrily, "What part of I don't want to talk about it now didn't you hear?"

So I guess this is one of those days when I get to practice walking away; where I very deliberately put it out of my mind. I can't go through the day wondering what the hell I did wrong.

Online secrets (not mine this time)

My partner is using online sex websites. I know because I inadvertantly saw it when looking through the web browsing history for a site that I couldn't remember the address of.

I was using his account you see. We have separate accounts so we can maintain our favourites lists and so on. But I came home from work and he was on the computer already. He was going to bed. I couldn't sleep straight from a work shift. Needed to wind down by watching a DVD (we use the laptop for that). I was looking through the web history for something.

A hangover and a tsunami warning

I have to apologise first up for what I think might be a rambling and disconnected post. My head is a little muddled after a fabulous wedding party last night. So much dancing and wine and music and that lovely heady drunkeness and affirmations of love between old friends.

Who would have thought getting older could be this wonderful if only you have such fine company in which to do it? (Told you I'd ramble.)

Anyway, we both had a few drinks and I know we'll have to pay for this. But at this point (while J is still sleeping, our son is with my parents and things are very quiet) I want to continue to enjoy it.

Things got off to a rocky start yesterday. We managed to have a fight just before the cab arrived. It was my fault this time. I just couldn't bear hearing for the 20th time that day that I don't like him, I think he's crap and so on and so forth. I snapped and told him that I just didn't want to hear it anymore and I'd rather he stayed home than continue on in that vein. Stupid, stupid me.

So the cab ride was in total silence. I was amazed that he still got in. And then I was accused of not understanding at all, of saying hurtful things without a care for what he felt.

Inside my head I was seething with the injustice of his comments, but somehow wisdom prevailed and I listened quietly, respectfully. Because in fact it was worse than what he was accusing me of.

My comments were not thoughtless. They were impatient and heedless of his feelings. I do in fact think all the time about how hard things are for him but my actions certainly didn't show it.

And then there was the ride to the wedding with friends. More silence on his part (but they know how things are so at least there was nothing to explain).

At the wedding we were absorbed into the crowd; many old friends swarming around to hug and talk and he was caught up in it. We flowed into separate groups. We stood separately during the ceremony. I didn't dare to look in his direction. I focussed entirely on the bride and groom and the lovely funny ceremony, the flowergirls, the incredible views and sunshine.

In fact it was our friends who made things unbelievably incredibly okay. There was no way I could have made up for what I said to him. But the beautiful environment and the steady flow of people walking up to him and engaging in conversation around him and with him led him gently into having a good time.

That and of course - eventually, quite late into the piece fortunately - a few beers. It's the beers that I have to thank for getting him onto the dance floor of course. I'm afraid it's not depression that keeps him from dancing. It's just being a lumbering and rather uncoordinated kind of bloke. Not that beer provides coordination, but I give high marks for enthusiasm and confidence.

I was in absolute heaven last night. Today may be a different matter but that hasn't started yet. I will stop meandering about in a minute, though I just want to say first how grateful I am for the invention of paracetamol. I'm starting to list a little to starboard (or whatever the hell this side of the room is called). So time to go really.

Flo

PS - Did I mention waking up to hear something on the radio about a tsunami warning? I'm sure there's some perfect analogy to be made about what might be coming today. Did I just make it then?

A big event

This afternoon one of my dearest and oldest friends is getting married. It's a very important ocassion for our group of friends. Most of us have known each other since we were about 17. We've shared houses, clothes, beds. We've supported each other through break-ups, deaths, illness and recoveries. A few of us have had children but even those who haven't have hung around to help.

So this wedding is important. There aren't that many of them and it's a chance to be together and celebrate something good.

My friends have welcomed J very warmly. They try to include him in things - social events, creative projects and so on. I know they like and respect him.

But it's too hard for him to believe that; and too hard to put any effort into nurturing or maintaining the friendships.

"I don't need that sort of thing, it's all in the past," are the exact words he used this week when he decided at the last minute that he couldn't go to the buck's night. And it was a very sedate night - dinner at a local pub, home well before midnight. (Our friends are a bit past a lot of things these days. It has its advantages!)

I think these events are important to attend. They're an opportunity to converse with people, catch up with the day-to-day, connect as an individual and grow genuine bonds that don't depend on your partner for their existence.

One of the best things that I've collected from past relationships are the friends that I've made. I've always kept them. There's a slight akwardness at times when juggling events and invitations, but on the whole it's been rewarding and has resulted in a beautiful network of friends, people who've known me through various ages and phases of life and still know me. We see each other change and age. It's wonderful.

But J doesn't want to be a part of it. It's not important to him. At least that's what he tells me, and what can I do but take him at his word? Perhaps it's arrogant of me to presume that this should be important, that he should want to have friends.

And am I just being too controlling? Trying to arrange things so they're just right for him? He's let his own friendships slide. (He has one friend left who contacts him sporadically.) Maybe that's just the way it has to be for him. Maybe I can't fix this either.

So today is the wedding. I know this is hard for him. He can't bear to hear me mention it, even to discuss necessary things like transport arrangements. I know he won't have anything organised to wear. The most basic preparations like shaving and washing his hair will be an impost. (Although he could turn up just as he is and no-one but him will care.)

I want him to come because often it's the getting there that's the struggle. He often ends up enjoying himself. And I don't want him to miss out on significant events like this. I think being left out will contribute to his sense of isolation, even if it is temporarily the easier and more comfortable option.

Anyway, just a few rambling thoughts while my tea is brewing and everyone else is still blissfully sleeping. This is the best time of the day.

Flo

Weddings (and other to-do lists)

About five years ago J asked me to marry him. It was incredibly romantic and unexpected.

I had no desire to be married. J and I have both been married before (to other people that is).

But being asked was flattering and it felt like a commitment in itself, an affirmation of the depth of his feelings for me.

Still, I was reluctant to turn it into my project and so I left it to him to move things forward.

Thank you

I just want to say thank you for reading this blog and for posting your comments.

I am so very appreciative. It feels like such a vanity on my part to send my rants into cyberspace and hope that people will spend their precious free moments reading them and responding to them.

I feel incredibly supported by the honesty and openess of your responses, by the instances of shared experiences. I feel so lucky to have the benefit of your insights and I am amazed every time a comment is posted at how generous you have been with your time and your thoughts.

Sometimes I wish that we all lived in the same city and could support one another in a more material way but in reality I know that if we did (and perhaps in fact we may) we still would never know what we share; and it has to be that way. It would be impossible (for me at least) to be this candid if it weren't on an anonymous basis.

I'm really glad that we can connect through the internet and offer each other more support than is possible in the flesh-and-blood world.

So thank you. Writing this blog has effected such a great change for me. It lightens the load, provides a forum and pushes me to explore thoughts, realities, assumptions. It helps me to track developments. And now it's made me feel so much less alone. Thank you for that.

Flo

Friday night out

I read somewhere that every family is its own country. I think my family has its own climate.

On Friday night everyone was in a good enough mood to want to go out for pizza.

There was a series of events: Work called on my mobile to get some information. T didn't want to go into the restaurant because he had somewhere else in mind.

Clouds gathered.

In the restaurant T grabbed the knife (what else?) and when J tried to retrieve it a tantrum ensued.

The work call ended. T was clinging onto that knife and sobbing, head down on the table. J's eyes were pink rimmed; his pupils disappearing into a flat icy blue; his mouth a thin, hard line.

Love

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".

Valentine's Day

I had pizza and gelato with my son. We walked the streets of my favourite town, did funny things, told silly jokes, bumped into an old friend and managed to get a cab just as the storm broke, releasing what's become a regular nightly deluge.

My boy fell asleep in the cab. Now I'm in the kitchen listening to the white noise of rain on the verandah roof, listening to the Garrison Keeler show on the radio. The cat is here with me.

But this is Valentine's Day and J is on the couch, eyes shut. Down. Angry. Really low.

He stormed out of the living room earlier, infuriated by an unwinnable stand-off, the kind that only 3-year-olds have the doggedness to stick out.

J went to bed. I got angry. Got dressed. Got out of the house with T. We caught a train into town where there's people and life.

There were so many ways in which it was great, just fine, what I live for. But today I wanted more.

And yes I was angry to come home - sleeping child, heavy, fumbling for keys, pissing down rain. Putting the child to bed, shoes, bag, wet clothes. He's on the fucking couch. On the fucking internet.

And when I swallow my anger to say hello (the anger liposuctioned out of my voice) it turns out he's mad at me.

So I tell him: You're obviously depressed, that's why I went. When it happens all I can do is get out of the way. So that's what I did. I know this from experience now. I used to try and fix it (I tell him), chase you and try and make you interact. But I realise now that just puts pressure on you that you don't need. This episode will pass. It's the depression we're both angry about, not each other.

I said it in anger but it still helped. I can't excise the emotion from the package that is me. I can use it though, it's a catalyst. It carries the words along. It doesn't inform them.

J and I have to accept that depression is part of our lives; I think part of that is accepting that I'm angry at it. It helps to get me through now that it's more accurately directed and better channelled.

Pervs Are People Too

I don't think it's what I was wearing. Perhaps I look suggestable? Sympathetic? On the same wavelength?

I am often accosted by elderly gentlemen who wish to discuss their peccadillos (old perves).

Today a lovely pensioner at the the bus stop engaged me in a conversation about a snorkeling trip to Gordon's Bay a couple of years ago. He was looking for gropers.

(This kind of groper)

Imagine his surprise and delight when only a few metres away there appeared a woman who was entirely naked. Entirely naked! (His emphasis, not mine.)

Unfortunately my bus arrived at that point so I was unable to continue chatting.

I wonder where things might have gone from there. Was he going to invite me on a snorkeling adventure? Was I expected to reciprocate by reminiscing about a similar experience?

And if he was having lewd thoughts about me, well, I'm not going to complain. No-one else is having them at the moment. And I'm hardly going to be tempted into taking up any consequent offer am I?

I guess you could see this as the positive side to the changes affected in me by current circumstances.

I have a far greater appreciation of small interactions and I am less fearful of people because I know my own boundaries. I've learned not to make assumptions about people. If I'm confident about my own choices in any given situation then I'm comfortable, fullstop.

A younger me might have been a little afraid of his intentions, unsure of how to respond.

My current self could see him as an absolutely charming, intelligent man with entirely dishonourable motives. I could give him five minutes of my time without giving him anything more of myself at all, without akwardness or anxiety.

(And he gave me something to write about on the bus.)

A shift in perspective (finding emo)

I know that sleep deprivation and constant exposure to a toddler can sort of approximate the experiences of let's say a wilder youth.

But the aquarium was an otherworldly experience that inspired the tingling, sparkling joyousness that my mind has missed - particularly where you can walk underneath and through the centre of tanks that are so enormous they feel like universes, not enclosures.

It's something about the low lighting and the giant rays swimming directly above you, their weird little babies' mouths gaping slightly like cherubs with adenoids.

And the dugongs are strangely graceful for all their resemblance to dill pickles (those sailors must have been on something a lot stronger than was available in the 90s to confuse them with mermaids).

My son predictably was enthralled by the sharks (all called Bruce of course) and the clown fish (Emo).

We had an amazing day together after what's been a particularly low point in the mother-child relationship (shrieking like banshees, various people being locked/locking themselves in the bathroom, less sleep per night than fingers on one hand).

It's like we went through the arse-end of tired and came out ... here. We ate ice-cream and grapes. I forgot to feel heavy for a day and had a brilliant time.

Reasons to leave

1. I want happiness to be day-to-day, not a special thing, a holiday in the middle of a heavy slog. I want this for all of us, but I can only make it happen for me and for my son, not for my partner.

2. I'm getting really tired. I worry that I'm disintegrating, even though I try so hard to keep it together. I can't grow a skin that's any thicker. It's not getting easier.

3. I don't like some of the ways that this is changing who I am. I don't like being so hard-arsed. I don't like having to draw sharp lines about how much I give to my partner and how much I have to keep back for myself.

4. I'm getting older.I don't know if I want to continue this battle for too much longer.