The Anne Chronicle: Episode 12/26/2011

Sometimes when I'm really blue I think about running away. I'm pretty sure everyone does this. I have these elaborate fantasies about just moving to another town, renting a tiny little apartment, and having some local stranger fall in love with me. And then I realize I'm Julia Roberts in "The Hand that Rocks to Cradle" except I didn't have an abusive husband. And then I feel stupid so I dump the fake guy and start just making friends in my new fictional town and being satisfied with that. Then I realize I'm Buffy in that episode after she kills her vampire boyfriend and she moves to LA and is a waitress. And that's when I turn off the TV and take a walk.

But I would smile more. Because I didn't just murder my boyfriend probably. 

Usually on that walk I continue to create fictional worlds where running away creates that perfect dramatic disappearance wherein all my loved ones miss me and try to find me and I feel loved and I'm not depressed anymore. Except I realize that's stupid because my loved ones ARE loved ones because they love me and I'm just depressed. And so I have to remember what the Bloggess says: "Depression lies." And it does.

My recent ex was/is very depressed. I adored him...maybe even got close to "loved him." He and I met in college and were acquaintances for the last 14ish years. He's best friends with one of my college exes... who is still a great friend. He and I started hanging out every couple weeks and just having dinner. We had great friend-chemistry... we bantered, bickered, and accommodated the needs of the other to talk about anxiety, depression, work, and dating idiots. Then suddenly he told me he wanted to date me. And I responded that that was the stupidest idea he'd ever had.

And then I cried.

Because suddenly he wasn't going to be my friend anymore because when one person likes another person who doesn't like them back, it changes everything. I know because I've been on both sides of that coin before. So we went out a few weeks later, on a date that I didn't know was a date until he texted the next day that it had been a date and I was "very impressed with his table manners." And damn I fall for charming wit. And when he kissed me on our next date I relented because it was good and I was in therapy to stop being afraid of failed relationships so I should really try it, right?

I equate my reaction to relationships to a burning building. In the past, I would see the burning building and flee quickly. Sometimes I'd stand outside and stare. Through the power of therapy, I had the confidence to act. With this guy, I just closed my eyes and ran in. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that... 

And the first few months were great. Great if you don't count the fact that I was anxious all the time because I was so eager to not sabotage that I was trying to mentally prepare myself to move in and marry this man (I didn't tell him these things... just my therapist). But great when I was calm in my brain. Boy, it's a little warm in here... but I don't mind heat. I can take it....

And then I could see his stress rising, his anxiety making him physically ill, and his depression causing him to call in sick to work. As a social worker by trade, he claimed to know all the "tricks" of therapy so there was no way seeking a therapist himself would be helpful. I tried baking soda on the grease fire, but it was spreading... 

I suggested trying to eat better (as a daily eater of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, I figured he could use some produce and maybe some other forms of protein)... but he wouldn't really eat because he was making himself sick. And then I got the hose and started running around the house trying to keep new parts from catching fire....

And I suggested yoga or working out to help him sleep better because he was now barely sleeping at all and was a zombie. But he was too tired to do those things and he tried it once and he still didn't sleep that night. But the fire was in the foundation now, but I was too ashamed to call 911 and say how long I'd waited to call... 

And so I said "sometimes just going out with friends makes me feel better... sort of faking it until you actually do feel better." And he said "I'm not very good at lying to myself." Well, actually, you're a professional because you're depressed. And depression lies. And I realized that baking soda and a big towel can't put the fire out.... 

And I tried keeping quiet and just listening, but then he'd tell me I wasn't being supportive in the right way... but he couldn't tell me what the right way was. And once when he was listening and allowing me a moment to be sad, too, I explained why I work out 5-6 times a week, and meditate, and eat the way I eat and keep busy, but also allow myself lots of refreshing alone time. And he said "I guess I didn't realize how hard you work to not be depressed." And then it started to burn my skin and the smoke was in my lungs....

And then he moved 30 miles away to live with a friend in the suburbs because it's quiet and of course he'd be able to sleep better when it's quiet. Except his "friend" was his ex girlfriend from high school and I told him I really did't want him to go play house with another woman (who I'd never even met) and he acted like there were only two options: stay where he was in a noisy apartment or move in with Lesley. And even though I could see hundreds of options that I offered to help him explore, depression only saw the 2.  So I said it wasn't a deal breaker, but I kind of knew it was. So I just laid down in the bathtub because it takes a long time for a tub to burn, right? 

And it was Christmas and he didn't even call. Or apologize for not calling. So I broke up with him the day after Christmas and tried not to hate myself for breaking up with someone who was sick. Sick with something I have too, but not the same way he does. My therapist says "Depression is like alcoholism in a lot of ways. It's not necessarily your fault, but it's still your responsibility." And he wasn't taking care of himself because depression lies and makes you think you can't.

And I check in with our mutual friend every now and then to see how he's doing and he's better, but not good. He tried running away to his parents' house. And he tried running away to his friends' house.

You can't run from sadness. You have to let it exist, but not own you. I read Pema Chodron "Start Where You Are" because it tells me to sit with my emotions instead of pushing them aside and be friends with them and eventually they aren't defensive and confrontational and they go away.

It is totally inappropriate of me to post this. 

Like an angry conjoined twin. You can pretend it's not there and that might work sometimes, but other times you have to just tell the twin that you love them, and allow the twin to have a quiet weekend of moping and cookie-dough eating, but then you be the boss. That might be a fucked up analogy because really the twin is a person, too, and depression isn't a person.

And then you find someone selling Unicorn Meat and you remember that everything really is going to be okay. Or I do. Everyone has to find their own Unicorn Meat.

Note: Sometimes the burning building is exciting and doesn't actually burn you in a hurty way.  Like how I imagine firefighters see fires... an opportunity... Yeah, there are holes in my metaphor.

Second note: In no way should you see the above as a manifesto of how to be happy (or sad). It's just a story of two people who've dealt with varying degrees of the issue and from my personal point of view and in a single blog post. If you are truly depressed, try everything in your power (and I have used anti-depressants when I needed them) to take back your life because life is worth it. It's never not worth it.

Also, this makes me think of a different relationship fire I'll have to tell you about someday.

Update: And it's obvious I still have guilt over the break up because I woke up this morning freaking out that the 10 people who read this are going to think I'm a huge asshole for breaking up with a depressed person. He's an amazing person. Depression made him unavailable to me and I had to decide how long I could be patient and loving. It was probably 3 months of our 5 month relationship.