My ex partner suffered with depresion. It was hard. I found I took on everything. I got so frustrated. I ceased to feel like a girlfriend/ partner and more like a carer. I know this makes me sound like a bitch but it really took its toll on my own mental health. It also eventually killed our relationship.
I felt like I was living my own personal version of groundhog day. Every day I’d get up, go to work come home and make the dinner. Some days I was knackered and would order takeaway. My ex did not cook and had no interest in learning. He said it wasn’t where his talents lay. He would complain about eating takeaway food.
I got to the point where going to work was my respite. It was easier dealing with other people’s problems than my own. I used to drive home and dread it. Would he be up? What form would he be in? Would he have washed the dishes? More times than not, the dishes were left unwashed.
That used to really get to me. It wasn’t enough that I did the cooking, cleaning and washing he couldn’t make the time or effort to wash the dishes. I know that really makes me sound like a total bitch but I was busting a gut using all my effort to go to work and be a functioning professional and keep a house running. I know that some days getting out of bed is a massive achievement when you are depressed but it felt like he wasn’t trying. Maybe that is unfair of me but that is how I felt. Just to clarify that by this point I was also depressed and taking the anti depressants prescribed by my own GP.
We would argue about this too. I would try and make the point that I was also depressed but was taking action. That was interpreted as me being better than him. That wasn’t what I was saying. I wanted him to get help. Wanted the relationship we’d had before depression changed us.
We would have talks. We would talk about what was bothering us. We would talk about our relationship and our future. The end result was always that I would have to make more of an effort to be sexy, to watch movies he downloaded. It was always about what I had to change. He’d tell me if things didn’t change he’d leave. I knew he was being unreasonable but I’d invested so much into the relationship. I wanted us to succeed and for our plans and dreams to come to fruition.
He turned day into night. I’d get up and he’d go to bed. It killed our sex life. He moaned about that too. I needed a partner who would take an equal role. I wanted the man I’d fallen in love with back. I wanted to be the woman he’d fallen in love with again. My libido was non existent.
I tried to support him to seek help for his depression. He went to his GP and was prescribed medication. He didn’t take it. I was prescribed the same medication by my own GP – I took it. I needed it. It helped.
I encouraged him to go back to his GP and get referred to counselling. He didn’t get on with the counsellor but didn’t seek referral for a different counsellor. It is so hard when you’re depressed yourself, holding down a full time job and trying to support your partner with depression. I felt like I was permanently exhausted.
Making the decision to end the relationship was hard. Truth be told, I checked out of the relationship several months before I actually ended the relationship. It took two attempts to end the relationship. The first time I ended the relationship, I agreed to try again. It came as a complete shock to him that the relationship was not making either of us happy or meeting either of our needs. I knew that I was done. I felt so awful that on top of his depression I’d broken his heart.
Ending the relationship was the right thing to do. I couldn’t continue. It wasn’t fair for either of us. I was so emotionally exhausted. I wasn’t sorry that it was over. I didn’t feel anything. No devastation, no elation, nothing. It took a while before the feeling of relief kicked in. Maybe that was the medication too? Maybe I am a bitch? Either way, I had to choose me. I am responsible for my own choices.
It took a while before his stuff was moved out of the house – my hiring a removal company saw to that. It was such a relief. I needed my own space and to finally get properly unpacked. I finally felt settled. I was no longer living on edge. Being at home was a relaxing place to be.
