Like this:

I studied Psychology, I’m supposed to understand at least the basics of the reasoning behind the actions and thoughts of people with depression. But I feel like nothing really can prepare you to live with someone with this illness. Sometimes I let it get the better of me, sometimes I can’t stand that it drains all the energy and joy inside of me, and tests my patience’s end.

But today I learn that, sometimes, loving someone is being their punching bag. Absorbing  the complaints and taking the swings, because honestly, sometimes no one even listens anymore. A tearful pryer at the dinner table reminds me that…’you can’t do that’ actually means ‘I’m scared you will get hurt,’ …that ‘you can’t leave my side’ actually means  ‘I’m afraid to be alone,’ …and that ‘you don’t do anything right’ means ‘I want things done the best for you.’ I realize that I forget frequently that this suffocating love is…well…love.

Maybe new perspective is what I need.

Advertisement