When I was diagnosed with depression it threw a wrench in the relationship I had at the time. How could we be Ken and Barbie if Barbie had depression? That didn't sound like a perfect love story to me. I found myself hearing, "Things have changed" and essentially "You're not the same person I fell in love with" more and more frequently up until the end. At the time, I felt that my depression was the cause of our breakup. I found myself increasingly insecure and increasingly doubtful. I started arguments or got upset over virtually nothing and often ended up isolating myself. When he reached out, I pulled away. When he gave me space, I craved closeness and affection. I couldn't decide if I wanted to let him in. Letting him in made me feel vulnerable. He didn't seem to understand and as a result I often felt crazy. Every text that remained unanswered by him genuinely made me feel unwanted. At important times when I reached out with a simple, "I'm lonely" and I received no response, I felt that he didn't care. That he rolled his eyes and tried to think of something he could pass as a caring response, because he just didn't understand.

I couldn't quite possibly convey how serious the issue was without feeling desperate. How the loneliness seemed to penetrate every surface of my body. How I could hardly breathe, and felt like maybe I should stop talking to him completely. Or text him repeatedly until he answered and attempt to make him understand, likely starting another fight. Either way, I felt like something needed to be done. Something must be done. I could not just sit there and wait for everything to slowly pass by like I knew they always did. Every meltdown was isolated and individualistic, every meltdown was the new end of the world. And I really struggled to keep myself together, to keep us together. The longer things went on and the more conflict we experienced, the more it felt like our relationship was perpetuating my depression.

There were few things he could say or do to make me feel better and this made me even more doubtful-if he can't make me happy why were we together? I have since realized that there were few things he could do to make me happy during these moments because despite what I had originally thought, my problems were internal, not external like my serotonin-deprived brain had tried to convince me. They had little to do with the reality of our relationship and more to do with my perception of our relationship. Of course, he couldn't make everything feel all right, because physiologically it wasn't. Every part of my brain insisted otherwise.

Toward the end, we were a mess. I had continued to hold on to a toxic relationship because of the fact that it had managed to drag me out of the darkness for short periods of time. When I finally gathered the courage to leave the relationship I was absolutely devastated. Watching my relationship with my best friend fall apart, because of my depression, because he couldn't love me in the same way he did pre-depression, tore me apart. What was wrong with me? That day, I lost not only my boyfriend, but my best friend. Someone I swore knew me better than anybody ever had. Someone who told me they'd always be there for me, somebody who regularly texted my mother, my sister, and my friends to check up on me, or because he was worried about me. Suddenly I was too much for him to handle and I felt like I wasn't worth the trouble. Months later and I am still trying to reconcile these feelings, still waiting for my heart to play catch up with my brain. Funny how a physiological malfunction can have such an emotional impact.

I have been on medication the entirety of my newest relationship and have seen few depressive "episodes." However, the first time I got very upset, I was also overcome with fear. I didn't want my depression to "ruin" this new relationship too. When conflict arises with my current boyfriend, I'm often at a loss for words. I shut down completely and opt to spend time alone moping and miserable. After all, my depression and anxiety seemed to push my last boyfriend away. I didn't want my new boyfriend to see me when I was weak. I didn't want to pick fights with him or regret anything I said. And I did not want to seem as needy or desperate as I felt. But a part of me didn't want to stay silent. A part of me just wanted to explain, even if I could hardly explain it to myself. I want to explain that there will be days when I don't even want to leave the house. Days when I can't bring myself to text him back because I'm afraid of saying something wrong. Days when I cry at the drop of a hat and worry that our relationship might be burdening him. Days when I'm afraid I don't have the energy to give him the love he deserves. Days when I'm just afraid, period.

But, I don't want to live like that anymore. Because of my past relationship, I approach my new relationship differently--cautiously. My depression distorts my own reflection until I'm somebody I hardly recognize anymore. I can hardly understand it, and I'm unsurprised that neither can my significant other. This puts a lot of pressure on our relationship. But, my depression did not cause my last breakup. There was nothing wrong with me. My last love just wasn't the one. We had a lot of problems I failed to address, and many of them were just exacerbated by my depression. I regularly remind myself of this. I refuse to believe something is wrong with me, or because of my mental health state, I am "unlovable" or "harder to love." Yes, I may require more patience or understanding or communication, or really, a variety of other qualities. But these are things that I already look for in a relationship. Maybe this made my search for love more narrow, but fortunately, I've already found somebody who fits the qualifications.

As I become more accustomed to the symptoms, I recognize when the depression is taking over. While this doesn't necessarily make the symptoms of depression easier on me, it puts less stress on my relationship. During these times I remind myself to try and think more rationally. I tell myself that "I'm not being myself," that these feelings will pass, and I try to give myself time to cool off before I address any issues. I remind myself who I really am. That my unanswered text doesn't mean he's disinterested or out with another girl ignoring me. I remind myself that he really does care, that he's trying his best to wipe the frown from my face. I remind myself that my perspective on what is going on is completely different than his. Just because I feel vulnerable or embarrassed, doesn't mean I actually have anything to be embarrassed about in his eyes. Just because I'm really worked up over something, doesn't mean he is equally emotional, raging with anger and disappointed or upset with me. He's simply trying to understand, and I should take everything he says at face value instead of over-analyzing and expecting the worse. I remind myself that our relationship will be successful with a little trust and a lot of faith.

Living with depression is hard, loving with depression may be harder. Understanding how to approach a relationship when you or your partner struggles with depression is key to its success.