I’ve mentioned dystonia and I’ve talked about depression, so today I’m going to write about dating. I’ve had two relationships since my marriage ended. The first lasted two years and the second three months. The second was just a fleeting moment in time that I would rather forget now. He was a widower of three years who assured me he was ready to date and have a relationship. Turned out he wasn’t and when I discovered that he still kept his wife’s ashes in his bedroom, I knew we had no future. I think he just really liked texting, as in the three months we knew each other we must have exchanged thousands of texts. I on the other hand found it strange that a man would prefer to sit in his house texting than go out and do things. It all came to a head after a two day break away by the coast, which was supposed to take my mind of an upcoming operation. He suddenly decided that he couldn’t give me what I wanted. By this time I knew I didn’t want him. We went our separate ways. He to his house with the shrine to his dead wife and me to mine and my cat, to contemplate another failed relationship.
David had come into my life when I became fed up of the dead beat men I had met and had decided I was never dating again. Dating is hard but dating with a disability is difficult and exhausting. I wasn’t attracted to him at first but he said all the right things and soon I had fallen in love. For the first year everything went well and I felt like I was walking on air. After a really bad marriage I thought I had discovered real happiness. I thought it would last forever but gradually things changed. On the second anniversary of our first date it ended badly. Very badly.
I think I went into shock. One minute we were in love, the next I hated him. My life went into free fall afterwards and I was hit hard by depression. That and the combination of health issues and an ESA Assessment sent my mental health spiralling downhill. I felt like I had jumped out of a plane without a parachute and nothing could stop me from hitting the ground with a bang.
Seven months later I’m still trying to recover. Some days are better than others but I still cry at the drop of a hat. Depression has become a part of my life. It’s always there waiting to remind me that my life is a mess, that I’m worthless and unloveable. It’s become my twin, my evil twin, who lurks in the background waiting to pounce.
I haven’t been able to look at the photo below since we broke up because I was so happy when we took it. It was our first holiday together and it was perfect. I want to feel that happiness again and look at this photo and just think: That was a good time. I was happy. It’s over now but I have lovely memories. That has to be possible. Doesn’t it?
My Triple D'S 