A first I thought I was just frustrated and angry with you all the time because PMS, but then my period came and went and even on days when I felt chirpy and upbeat, the sound of you arguing with someone in your room would stress me out immediately. Then I realized that I just have no tolerance left.
One day I told you that it was really stressing me out and the real problem for me is that we don't see eye to eye on what the issue is. When I ask you to work on what I perceive to be the fundamental, underlying problem, your answer is "I can't", and if that's the case, then I feel like everything will always be worse than it could be, and that I couldn't bear. If the answer was "I'm working on it, give me time", then I would support you forever, but it's not.
I also felt like things were starting to stagnate. I don't want this to be another place where you tread the same old path and live the same ingrained habits. More than a year ago when you started to call me up to keep me on the phone for hours, I told you that something has to change and maybe you are just burning all your bridges before that can happen. Now I wonder if I am one of those bridges.
Maybe by keeping you here and cushioning you from the worst effects of your behavior, I'm enabling it, or putting off that moment when you'd either sink or swim? I don't know. Like a lot of other big issues we face, it's not an experiment. There's no re-do, no control group. If it goes badly, I can't hit rewind and try it again. I can't practice it until I get better at it. We agreed that you would start looking for somewhere to move to. I said I wish I could have done something more to help you, and I hope we'd still be friends. You hugged me and said of course we will, and made a joke about how I haven't done such a bad job since you weren't dead yet.
Since then you've gone up to Hamburg for a few days and come back. You started taking anti-depressants about three days ago and seem to be in a generally better mood. I can't help but think that some part of you feels bad for making my life difficult, and is trying your best to be your better self, even though you said you couldn't. Yesterday you made a joke about people shouting yea or nay in the British parliament. Today you came and told me you have another appointment with a psychiatrist. In between there are times when we kid around about something, and you laugh.
Before bed I still go in to say goodnight and sit with you for a few minutes. I massage your hand or spoon you and stroke your face. Sometimes you start to say something about your problems and I have to gently remind you that we have an agreement. I just want to be able to express my affection for you without having to delve into the things which we are both of us powerless to change. I just want to carve out a little space and time for something else to exist.
Just now I heard you having a long meeting with your colleagues. At the end of it you said something to the effect of how they're always welcome to call you if they need help, because you'd be happy to talk to them. Something about the way you said it (and what you said) - was really you. The you that you are when you are not only the sum of your burdens and your fears. The kind, generous, and gentle person who just wants to help and share and be good to everyone. The person that I miss the most when you are not yourself.
We haven't set a date for you to move out. I remind myself that just because you've had some good days, it doesn't mean that everything will get better. Perhaps your problems will drag you under again, and I don't know how or if I will be able to cope with that. But every time the real you resurfaces, I'm filled with gratitude, if not hope. I'm suspicious of hope, and I try not to have any expectations, but I'm glad for all those moments when you are not sunk so deep in pain you can't feel anything else. I'm happy every time you approach me to see what I'm doing. I'm happy every time we hug.
I'm still rooting for you.
