What love feels like to someone with depression

Written at the worst of my struggles and something I’d like to share with you now- Steph, August 2018.

As I Google my way around the internet searching for conclusive answers, my anxiety increases tenfold. How do I know if I love my partner? Strangers posing such desperate questions are answered by other strangers as though they are the gospel according to factual truth.

For the record my boyfriend is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

He is gorgeous, kind, sweet, 100% there for me and contributes an incredible amount to our relationship. I on the other hand am really struggling with depression and fairly fucking useless. If I’m not raging at him for not taking the bins out, or crying like a mad woman in the kitchen because his innocuous supportive comments feel like the end of the world, I am predominantly numb and incapable of feeling joy.

Yesterday whilst searching the internet (it has a lot to answer for) I came across Byron Katie’s ‘The Works’ which is a strategy based upon self-enquiry. I watched a session in which the client had incredible revelations and seemed lighter – lifted – clean. It only made sense to try this out with other aspects of my befuddled life so I asked myself a question – do I love my boyfriend?

The first question of the process is – is thistrue? My stomach dropped and I felt confused. How can you know if you love someone? The second question, do you absolutely know that to be true? felt like maybe I didn’t know at all. If I couldn’t answer the first part how the fuck could I answer an incomprehensible question at greater depth?

You see, the thing with depression is that it robs you of all positive feelings. You feel numb, ghost-like and can’t trust anything you experience with your five senses. Thankfully he understands just how much it hurts me not to be able to answer this kind of philosophical existential musing in my current state and doesn’t seem to take it personally.

As the question crashed its way through my skull it unleashed my pure-OCD (based upon relationships, confession and reassurance) which has been lying dormant for some time. It’s a bit like two fairground mirrors facing opposite each other, their reflections bouncing and stretching into infinity – do I, don’t I, do I, don’t I….?

I get lost in the concept of what love even is. What is it? If it is a feeling and you can’t feel do you have it?

The thoughts that arise when I ponder this question fill me with feelings of dread, sorrow, guilt and confusion. Suddenly my brain comes to a complete stand-still. It’s like my mind has literally jammed with trying to compute this impossible equation. No. More. Storage.

Only one internet stranger flung a logical inflatable rubber ring into the sea of my neurosis – if you didn’t love him you wouldn’t care.

In relaying all this to him I realise that he can still see me even when I hold a completely distorted view of myself and reality. He reminds me that only yesterday we were happy but that’s a world away from me now as I plummet down the eternal mind helter-skelter exhausted with rumination.

If I had asked the questions: who do I want to be with in another 50-years, whose arms would I like to die in, who offers the best and most healthy relationship I’ve ever had, who is your soulmate, who do you fancy the arse off? – the answers would all be unequivocally HIM.

But the absence of reliable feelings unnerves me and puts even the strongest of connections under intense scrutiny.

My only experiences of ‘love’ have been around longing, pain, drama, obsession, infatuation and loss. I can feel all of those things – a bit like my microphone doesn’t really pick up noise until it’s over-the-top intense.

The intrusive thoughts battle against any firm arguments to support my belief that I do. In fact, the gremlin on my shoulder is telling me that it’s all just a complex lie and that this entire article itself is a bullshit self-denial.

The result of this daily mind ping-pong? It makes me want to push him away – for both of us. On one hand I don’t want him to have to put up with me when he deserves someone who can freely experience and give love. And for myself, I have a core belief that I am destined to be alone, not right for anyone and incapable of healing or experiencing positive feelings. And to not be with him would surely mean freedom from all the questioning?

And these are the stories that depression and anxiety feeds us.

That we’re not good enough, not worthy, genius manipulators and all the other bunch of crap it throws at you on a daily basis.

Although to talk this kind of difficult stuff through with your partner might feel like the worst thing in the world, it might help them to better understand where you’re coming from and enable them to separate out you from the depression.

No one asks to feel depressed and living with the guilt of not being able to feel love when you can’t feel any form of happiness or pleasure is not a bundle of picnics. My advice when you want to ask the question? Don’t.

If you’re not in a healthy place, it’s very unlikely that your insight is going to be a reliable witness (unless of course your partner is a complete tool).

Asking existential questions about the meaning of love whilst struggling with a mental health condition is as futile as asking what the colour four is, and unless you’ve got Synesthesia or are tripping on acid you’re only likely to go further down the rabbit hole.

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