I have always been prone to depression. Well I wouldn't have called it that, I just feel sad most of the time. I remember in high school my band teacher said I was prone to melancholy. I quite liked the ring to that, so melancholy and sadness just hung about like a dark cloud. In a way I see beauty in the darkness. I have a journal full of sad poetry, I read it back and it is of weird comfort. My teenage angsty sadness turned into intense adult melancholy as each year progressed. Some of it embarrassing unrequited love. Still some of it embarrassing unrequited love and other things. Always through out it, I just wanted someone to see me, to be able to hold space for it all, to see that much of my existence was spent alone in the dark being sad and that it was okay. Much of the time the intensity of how I experienced the world and expressed it, was too much for many. I was often told directly and indirectly that I was attention seeking, too dependent and clingy, weird and sad. I was Eeyore without Pooh, Piglet, Rabbit or Christopher Robin. I still feel like that at times. Even though I have a large family and a loving partner. Depression is a tough place for someone who loves you, to visit, let alone have an extended stay when your world has caved in and the black cloud has taken over your life. To love someone steadfastly and patiently while sitting in the dark with them, is one of the greatest acts of love. Providing a safe space, a soft place to fall. I was very lucky to have that last year, and mostly I am fortunate to have a partner that can absorb my moodiness, my neuroticism, my sadness. He takes it all and just delivers back stability and security and safety. If I need to spend the day in bed and cry, then he makes that happen. He takes the day off work and tackles the rest of life left idle when I set down my life tools. It's complicated though. I sometimes wonder if by way of personality, he is just naturally like this. He just gets on and does what is needed when no other option is available. On the regular he drives me nuts. I complain about him all the time. He takes ages to get anything done, he spends copious amounts of time on the computer watching youtube and gaming. It has caused no end of discussions, that often fall on deaf ears. His usual approach to home life is somewhat Dory like, with the pace of a snail. The way he just naturally plods along frustrates me to no end. For much of the time he is just a bit aimless from day to day at home. He has no formulated plan on getting much done, while I run around like a headless chook wrangling kids and housework and all the things. Don't get me wrong, he does stuff. It's just not particularly efficient. We have had many talks about this, how it would be very useful if he could step up his game with house stuff and kid stuff when he is home, but not much comes of it. So here I am complaining about him again. And that makes me feel completely and utterly shit. I am a terrible person. He was supportive in the most amazing way during my mental health shitstorm and I am still seething about how little he scrubs the toilet or does washing. Let's be clear here. My guy does work part time. I am not expecting him to come home from work and juggle kids and pets and all the things after work. I am talking about when he has days off, in particular a few days off in a row. Anyhow, here we are getting stuck in the weeds. It's all stuff, fluff, white noise of life. There is always something tangible to distract you from the really, challenging intangible stuff you can't quite express. While having this conversation with my friend about depression, I mentioned that in spite of my partner's ability to step up in the wake of my breakdown, to look after me, to be a safe place for me, there is very much a misalignment I feel between us. He can be very emotionally disconnected. In the almost 22 years together, I have rarely seen him cry. He is definitely not an overtly or overly emotional person. It perplexes me. Feeling emotionally connected to my intimate partner is a really important aspect of relationship. When we dance on the surface stuff, the weeds, I can feel myself falling into disillusionment, disconnection, sadness. Often over the years I have felt it was my fault. He didn't feel comfortable opening up perhaps? What was I doing wrong? I have come to the realisation that he is who he is, and the way he exists and participates in life is just him. And I can't change that. I don't get to choose the way he exists. I don't get to choose how he loves me. On the flipside he can't choose for me either. His love is quiet and consistent. He is neither prone to jealously or suspicion. He is assured by our bond and connection enduring anything thrown our way. And he feels that way because I have never given him reason to not. The feeling is mutual. There is a very familiar niche that we have found ourselves in, which is good and bad. I would love to have some new experiences, like dancing for instance. We have never danced together. Maybe a stupid little kitchen shimmy, but not a real dance. I sometimes just want to jump in the car and have him drive us around the beach and just sit somewhere and look at the stars. He doesn't drive unfortunately. And I could and have done drives around the beach, just us. But there is something about your man driving you somewhere that is kind of romantic. Maybe I am just making it all harder than it is. He falls asleep a lot because of his medical condition, it's hard watching someone you love sleep their life away. I feel sad about it a lot. I am almost 40 and my life is certainly not what I expected it to be. I crave more fun and joy. I want my life partner to meet me with the same level of intensity sometimes, but that's not going to happen and it feels unfair. Heading towards 40, the midpoint of life, I suppose there is a part of me that is in the FOMO stage. Fear of missing out. It might be my last chance to do X,Y or Z. I often think of how many sunsets and sunrises I have left. How many more times will I get to look at the moon and the stars? I have already missed so many. I calculated this week that by the time I am off the school drop off and pick up merry-go-round, I will be in my mid fifties. What the actual fuck!? I have no clue what life will look like then. I will have basically five adult children by then. That is scary. There is an odd beauty in the uncertainty though. I just want a simple life. That feels beautiful. It will unfold as time ticks over and I can try to steer it in ways. But I can't help but feel that I don't have much say in how it all plays out. If tomorrow never comes, be what may. I was always curious about the mystery that is life. And I loved intensely and always felt loved.
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