The black dog

Winston Churchill was plagued with depression, which he referred to as his 'Black Dog'.
Recently, I have been living with a black dog, & the dog does not belong to me, but to my boyfriend. He is suffering with depression, & I have found it had to cope with his seemingly sharp withdrawal of affection. It's actually somewhat heartbreaking.

A short version of this story is to say that after 7 short but perfect, idyllic months with my boyfriend, we moved in together. I had never in all my life felt so happy, secure, safe, loved, sexy, vital & alive. In other words, I had literally never felt this way with anyone before, & what was even better was that he seemed to feel the exact same way. As previous blog posts will hint, I was planning the wedding!

But almost immediately after moving in together, the little affectionate things he did stopped abruptly. The notes he would leave me around his house stopped. The signs that he was thinking about me during his working day stopped, the impossibly soppy texts stopped. It was so sudden & abrupt, I enetered into a state of confusion. What exactly had I done wrong? Was he having second thoughts? Insecurity crept in & it has failed to leave me ever since.

Then he was diagnosed as having depression, & was put on antidepressants. He thinks the depression was sparked by moving house. I felt so hurt just by that alone- we had so looked forward to moving, & had planned it all in fine detail. To hear him say that what we had so looked forward to together sparked his depression made me so sad.

I am totally devoted to this man, I will do everything I can to help him recover from this, but honestly, sometimes, I think...what about what me...? Is that just remarkably selfish? I miss that feeling of deep deep happiness, & I want it back.
I hadn't had the opportunity to really fully enjoy living with him before 'the real him' was stolen away by depression. I get the odd glimpse of him now & again, but those glimpses are few & far between & I never know when they will happen. In total honesty, I deeply miss him, it feels like knowing what love really is & then having it taken away.
For now it's time to keep staring at the horrible black dog in the corner.

Fever

So, seriously...does the whole world have marriage/baby/engagement fever? Everyone I now is either getting engaged, married, or pregnant & all I'm getting is drunk. It's depressing. If I never compared myself to anyone else, I wouldn't really care that I'm a bit behind everyone else. But honestly, when everyone else is moving on to the next stage of their lives & I'm not, I can't help but think "What is wrong with me?"
I don't think it helps that I'm coming up to a big birthday (30). I thought I'd have achieved so much more by now, but I feel a bit languid & unfulfilled.
The Fella is defintely The One for me. Only thing is...I'm not sure if I'm The One for him. It's not really a question I'm brave enough to ask.

Deluded

This is the word that describes me on the weekend away I have just had with the Fella. Let's just say, (embarassing as it now will seem) that I had convinced myself he was going to propose to me while we were away in The Lake District to mark the anniversary of our first date.
I think it's quite fair to say my conviction was not wholly unfounded. In the time we have been together, he has actually said the magic 4 words (will you marry me) but never actually SAID them said them if you know what I mean. No ring, no down on one knee, no asking for the Father's hand blah blah blah. It's like he's ensured I know he's interested, but he hasn't done anything to lock down the deal so to speak. Also, about a year ago, he's said he thought we would be engaged within the year (bah!). He also started surrupticiously asking me what my favourite gem stones were recently while I was in a conversation with his mother about jewellery. Hmm...clues indeed. Or so I thought.
Ok, so it got to the anniversary day, & we were away in the Lake District. I had gently dropped hints that 'now-would-be-a-good-time-to-do-it' what with the perfect scenery, "Have you ever been to such a perfect place as this?" & "Isn't this place good for the soul" etc. Nothing.
I gave him an album that I'd spent months carefully making, consisting of trinkets & photos of the things we had done together in the last year. I thought giving it to him early in the day might hurry things up. Nothing doing. Infact, I saw definite signs of panic in his eyes as he had clearly forgotten any token gesture at all. Not good. Anyway, a few hours later & suddenly he seems to have cheered up. "I have a surprise for you later" he said. Excellent, I think at last he is going to get a ring on my finger. He suggested that we go up to a nearby viewpoint later that evening to watch the sunset. "Finally" I thought. I subsequently spent the afternoon thinking ooh I must rememeber this so I can tell people what I was doing on the day I got engaged. A joint wedding even popped into my head. (My brother is proposing to his GF at Christmas). Deluded, yes?

Anyway, it turned out that the surprise was a bottle of champagne that he had obviously panic-bought from the hotel bar earlier in the day. I was so disappointed I accidentally broke one of the champagne flutes he had borrowed from the hotel. This didn't help matters, as he got a bit annoyed with me. At some course over the day he had managed to procure a Happy Anniversary card. I read the words which were quite sweet, but were clearly beefed-up in terms of romantic soppiness because he hadn't thought of anything else romantic to do. I felt a bit teary eyed about the disappointment but I think I managed to successfully & believably feign it off on the lovely words in the card. Humph. I felt like a prized moron. Worse still, when I got back to the hotel for dinner, I accidentally saw on the wine list that the champagne he'd bought was the cheapest on the list.

So, there we are. Deluded I would say is quite a fair summation, yes?