So yesterday’s blog was light-hearted and fun and a great reprieve for my gray-racked brain.

You won’t be so lucky today.

It’s very difficult to be a depressed person.
It’s also very difficult to love a depressed person.

We are not lovable. Not even a little bit lovable. That’s where that unconditional love crap comes in.

I’m gonna tell you a story about a wounded girl trying to find love.
Spoiler alert: I don’t know if there’s a happy ending.

I’ve known G for years. YEARS. We met when I was working at the Harbor and he was sitting at the bar. I thought him incredibly handsome and he had/has the greatest smile EVER. I had zero tables and we struck up a conversation. That was the beginning of a sometimes wonderful, sometimes awful, always complicated, always intense relationship that has been very frequently grounded by lots of laughter.

Post-divorce, dating is hard. Well, maybe it’s not hard for everyone. My ex-husband managed to immediately date and marry that person. There’s no judgement there from me. But I have not found the road so simple. My marriage took a HUGE toll on my self-worth, self-esteem, and ability to trust my gut instincts. I trusted NO ONE. Not family, not anyone. G, in my estimation, has never been one to trust easily at all. The first few years we dated casually. On and off. At times, intense …. But inevitably that would lead to one or the other of us freaking out and things would cool for awhile. The beauty of our relationship has been that it’s been enduring. Whether we were capable of “being a couple,” we were really good at being friends and laughing and eating and sharing and laughing and laughing and laughing.

Along the way, I suppose I became “more ready” for a relationship than G was. That led to more complications. It was difficult to be friends knowing that was the extent of the relationship, but it was also incredibly difficult for BOTH of us to NOT have that sounding board we’d found. This was all pretty independent of my depression. This was all just complicated relationship shit of two very wounded souls.

Fast forward til recently. Somehow, we find ourselves together. Really together. Publicly together. Saying those scary “I love you” words and integrating lives. But not TOTALLY integrating lives, because, holy shit, scary!! And we finally became Face book friends because it was probably time to acknowledge one another on that social media platform.

Here’s the thing about Facebook. It records EVERYTHING. From years ago. From times when we weren’t together (but still friends). You see flirtations and posts about dates and all kinds of horrendous shit that you wish you could purge from your brain forever. But you can’t. So you read it. And you search for it. And, when you’re depressed, you take every bit of it personally and internalize it and hold it and cradle it and use it for validation that you will never truly find someone to love you. To love ME.

Because sometimes it is hard to love me. Because sometimes I’m insecure and ridiculous and overly sensitive. Sometimes I have a valid point …. But, let’s be honest, it’s hard to find those valid points because they are so ensconced in the crazy thinking. The ruminations. The exaggerations. The cognitive distortions. These things don’t mean I’m NOT worthy of love, but they sure make it difficult for people to give and very difficult for me to accept.

Remember: My mom died when I was 13. My sister and best friend died when I was 27 and pregnant with my first child. My brother died in a HORRENDOUS shooting that estranged my family from me and my husband. I have dealt with grief, loss, betrayal and, honestly, it’s hard to believe that happy endings can and do exist.

I guess I feel like maybe I’m owning it and trying to make changes if I lay it all out there. If I own all of my mistakes and fears and secrets then maybe I can overcome some of it.

People sometimes I think I have it all together. That I’m happy and funny and bubbly and positive and smart. And I AM those things. Those things are part of me. But I also think WAY too much. I over-analyze the shit out of everything. I sometimes accept unacceptable behavior. I guess I want you all to know that every freaking human being has shit. My shit is heavily tied in with relationships and trust. And when you throw depression into the mix, I can be a legitimate train wreck.

And right now I’m struggling in this new, not-so-new relationship. I see the past women in his life and I’m not as skinny, not as pretty, not as successful. I think, “Why in the world would anyone as successful as him want ME?” and I look for validation. Depressed Jenny CRAVES validation like oxygen. And healthy Jenny KNOWS that kind of behavior sucks the life out of everyone else. Believe me, I know that.

Healthy Jenny isn’t jealous, isn’t possessive, isn’t easily threatened.
Depressed Jenny feels like she will never be good enough for anyone. Ever.

It’s hard to love depressed Jenny. It’s almost impossible for depressed Jenny to ask for and feel like she deserves love. And that’s why I don’t know about any happy endings. I don’t know that I can expect anyone to choose ALL of me. Healthy Jenny is a blast and a GREAT partner. Depressed Jenny is a weight. A burden. Why would anyone sign up for that?

Guys, I’m not blogging this for validation. I’m really not. I’m blogging this because I’m desperate to live authentically. Part of my mission in my life is to make mental illness real and touchable and relatable and hopefully a little less scary and a little less mysterious. I’m just really trying to be me. And hopeful that will be enough.