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finding someone you can laugh with when everything hurts—was the stuff happily ever afters were made of.
That’s the part of depression people don’t consider, that at times it physically hurts.
If therapy has taught me anything, it’s that you run from your pain in a circle. You end up exhausted, but never really gaining ground. I have to stop running,
North Carolina.
Grief is a grind. It is the work of breathing and waking and rising and moving through a world that feels emptier. A gaping hole has been torn into your existence, and everyone around you just walks right past it like it’s not even there.
“I will love you until I die. We said till death do us part.”
“We said vows.” “Those are words, not walls. They don’t defend. They don’t enforce. They don’t protect us from life. From pain. From how things change. And I don’t want to stay in this just because we said we would. I need to stop hurting, and being with you? It hurts now.”
“Depression,” she goes on, “is a liar. If it will tell you no one loves you, that you’re not good enough, that you’re a burden or, in the most extreme cases, better off dead, then it can certainly convince you that you’re better off without the man you love, and that, ultimately, he’s better off without you.”
