Imperfect, and I think I’ll stay that way thanks.

So, I think it’s hard enough to deal with your own self and your own depression. Keeping it under control for your lover or beloved, that’s a whole other kettle of fish.

Alone and miserable? I got this. I got that. I am well practiced in moping in the dark. But, what do you do when you’re suddenly miles past moping in the dark and your crying out loud? Why, you feel guilty about crying out loud and just keep on making it worse, right?

I think there’s got to be another way. When you’re alone, there’s a kind of safety in wallowing in your own self hatred. Or simply just loudly crying your guts out until there’s nothing left. But, as soon as you put another person in the room with you, expectations and pressure creep upon up. Experiencing moods other than glee, contentedness and excitement become unacceptable. Crying becomes something like a ghastly bloody wound and expressing the kind of vulnerability that comes with, not just depression, but simple stresses and bad moods are seen as weaknesses.

We know we can’t be happy all the time. Well, I assume if you’re old enough to read the content in this blog, you’ve come across the knowledge that happiness isn’t a permanent residence, and the path to come kind of contentedness, sure as hell aint a straight one.  So, why, when we are put in a room with other people, is it suddenly not OK to express other emotions? Sadness, anxiety, stress, general pissed-off-ed-ness at everyday nonsense all become flaws in the presence of someone else.

I think, at least in the early stages of a relationship, all these ideas are amplified in the presence of that oh-so-special person.  Childhood fairy tales and their ‘happily ever after’s have a hell of a lot to answer for.

What’s my point? You may not be the dream partner or superhero best friend that you thought you were, because nobody is. We don’t grow up to become something perfect. We don’t always need to panic to repair ourselves or crumple further when someone we love sees the scars and the stains.  We all fall apart sometimes and we’re all a little ripped at the seams. And, I think, there’s a kind of beauty in that.

 

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