Do not Loose Yourself
Not the longest relationship.
Not the oldest or most experienced voice here either.
But 4 years of one of the most beautiful loves, ended in a gradual, lonely breakup.
First year of college. Love at first sight. She was charismatic, beautiful, smart, kind, empathetic. I fell hard and I fell fast.
Became her best friend. Got close. Spent every moment I could by her side.
Once she felt safe, the walls came down. Secrets, trauma, the weight she carried.
She trusted me with all of it, and I held it close. Protected her. Became her caretaker, her boyfriend, her everything.
When anxiety gripped her, I dropped everything to be by her side.
Helped her fall asleep at night. That was the part I loved most.
Became her warm blanket on cold winter mornings.
And before we knew it, I had made her dependent on me.
Before I realized it, I had become her dad.
Before we could realized, she was starting to losing friends.
And so was I.
We were inseparable from each other while completely cut off from everyone else.
She carried her childhood wounds. I carried my own. Not feeling good enough for her, insecurities tied me down.
I kept her close so I could always be there, protect her from anything and anyone who might hurt her.
Gradually, I became her walking cane, while I slowly drained myself empty.
To manage her ego, I let go of mine.
To manage her anger, I let go of mine.
To build up her confidence, I tore what I had.
To teach her how to lead, I stopped leading.
To teach her how to say no, I became the first person she would try and say no to.
She learned to set boundaries.
Before I ever did.
I snuck out of my strict household for her therapist appointments. Looked out for her despite my own deadlines. Studied at her pace despite my own exams.
The handholding only got deeper.
I thought I was being selfless. I thought this was love.
She saw it becoming dependency.
"Work on yourself."
"Learn to set boundaries."
"Turn your back on me when I hurt you."
I ate my pride every time she hurt me, because I told myself she needed me more than I needed myself.
I kept breaking. Kept sacrificing. Kept swallowing everything down.
Until the day she said she wanted to end it.
Because she didn't wanna hurt me anymore.
She saw how much it was costing me. Asked for time. Space. To grow into someone who could give back, not just take and take. She wanted to fix her own broken faucet, fill her own bucket, so she'd finally have something to offer.
Four years of undergraduation. The most beautiful years of my life so far.
But it breaks my heart that my college sweetheart, the girl with the adjacent roll number, right next to mine, won't be standing beside me at graduation like I always pictured.
If you're reading this because you love someone with depression, I need you to hear this.
Your sacrifices mean nothing if they break you more than they help.
Depression is a battle for both of you, but you can't be the only one fighting. You need to trust that they will reach for you when things go wrong. But you also need the physical, mental, and emotional strength to actually hold them when they do.
The truth is, people with depression can only truly help themselves. And while they're doing that work, you're left alone trying to support both of you.
Work on yourself before you work on them.
Have parts of your day that don't include your partner. Real time, not just clock time. The gym. Your work. Time alone. Reading. Walking. Whatever fills your cup. Be a person outside of your relationship.
Because when they finally turn to you for that hug after a hard day, you need to be strong enough to hold them.
You can't pour from an empty cup.
Don't lose yourself trying to save someone else.
Take care of yourselves. You matter too.