After only six months of dating, my mental health went downhill. We were unable to grow and blossom due to my mental illness, and every day chipped away at us both.
After my borderline diagnosis, I began to recognize the ways my mental illness affects our relationship.
I often overreact. Clothing left on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink. The little things can send me in a fury. Hunger or lack of sleep makes me cranky and bitter. I lash out and often take it out on you.
I call the shots: how we spend our free time, who we see, and what we do. Sure we compromise and talk, but due to my mental illness, what we do matters. I know we are less spontaneous and spend more time at home because of it.
My bad days can become your bad days. I wish it were different, but my hard days often take over, which leaves no room for peace and positivity.
I recognize the toll it takes on you. Your hair is thinner than when we first met. Your eyes tell a darker story than the carefree one they used to tell. You’ve matured and slowed down because you’ve been to hell and back with me.
Loving you is not always easy. Sometimes I want to be alone because I fear hurting you beyond repair. These aren’t my thoughts; my mental illness tells me this. It wants me to feel unworthy and unlovable, but you show me otherwise.
No matter what my illness tells me, I know that loving you is worth it. Always is and always will be, worth it.