I know our big blow up fight was because of me. It’s not that he did nothing wrong. It’s not that I did all wrong. It’s because I am unstable. My depression has resurfaced it’s ugly head and he is the only safe place where I can be truly depressed. Unconsciously I was allowing this little spat about which park to go to escalate out of control. If this happened, I could let out all of my rage and emotion. He would match me with emotional intensity, I could be free with my emotions and with him I know, despite the pain, it will be okay in the end.
The fight is over, the truth of my current emotional state has finally come out. I’ve hinted at it for weeks, but the funny thing about depression is you logically understand you shouldn’t feel this way. Then the battle begins. Your own thoughts devour you. Things aren’t that bad, what’s wrong with you, you are weak, how will you ever be a mother if you can’t even handle a minor life problem, is life even worth living, maybe I’ll be lucky and get in a car accident or come down with a fatal illness, then maybe I’ll get peace. No, you selfish creature, what’s wrong with you, how could you think these horrible things. One day he’ll realize, you’re going to ruin everything, you’ll run out of money and he’ll leave. These thoughts echo and circle in my mind for weeks and weeks until I can’t hold it in anymore. We fight, we make up, I confess, I fall apart and he picks me up.
The day ends with me lying on the floor, exhausted, him lying next to me. I’ve exerted all the tears I think a human body is capable of excreting without shriveling up. He has said so many positive, encouraging things, I wonder how he doesn’t lose patience with me. When I say some of the things I have been thinking I laugh. They sound so silly when I say them out loud to another person. He laughs with me and promises he’ll never leave. He reminds me of who I am, not who I think I am, but who I actually am. I feel better, well maybe not better, but at least neutral. There is enough love and hope in this house to keep going.
Update: I found this great video explaining depression with the metaphor of a black dog. I found it congruent with my experience. Enjoy!