Dating a clinically depressed person
I watched flamenco in Granada on autopilot, hardly processing the click of the dancers’ heels on the floor, wondering who would call the EMTs if I weren’t there.
Every Shakespeare lover has a different interpretation of Hamlet’s “To be, or not to be” soliloquy: To be, or not to be, that is the question— Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune, Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?
As the year progressed, my own interpretation began to take shape in my mind.
It felt as if I were dating a kind of Hamlet: someone who would swing from lucid brilliance to taciturn, angry silence to utter panic.
College Student Breaks Up with Boyfriend, Few Care. However, if I have learned anything from writing, it is that no (wo)man is an island.
Articulating your experiences and having someone else respond with yes, I get it, I know what you mean is a type of catharsis that few other things in the world can offer.
As some of theater’s most famous star-crossed lovers, we flirted, shouted, and stage-slapped each other with gleeful abandon.
We were both dating other people, so we never allowed our on-stage romance to translate into anything else.
Though he may have never sent me a letter in Spain, he did send me a copy of one of his favorite books: Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods. I didn't even know who I was after the relationship ended. Realize that it is OK to take some time to feel shitty, cry, and binge-watch Orange is the New Black, because you have lots of years left to live and you are going to meet some amazing people. You got along fine before that person, and you will get along fine without him — and he will eventually get along fine without you too.Except he began calling me late at night, calls that were mostly filled with the staticky hiss of the phone as he tried to figure out what to say. If I, as one of his good friends, worried constantly about his mental health, I couldn't imagine how she was able to handle the pressure. They broke up in the spring of his senior year in high school, and Thomas and I began dating as soon as I came home for the summer.That summer was idyllic, mostly because I was leaving for a semester in Spain at the end of August and we wanted to savor the time we had together. He was finally taking medication and had gone to a therapist a few times.At the end of my senior year, I went off to the University of Virginia, and he stayed in Richmond to finish high school. He couldn't bring himself to care about things he’d previously loved. I told him that what he was describing was a classic case of depression and tried to get him to seek help.I expected our friendship to be shelved until Christmas break. Over the course of my freshman year, as these calls got increasingly desperate, I often wondered how his girlfriend was able to deal with this.
The way he lived felt, to me, like a kind of not-being.