Bitch in love, part 2
posted by bitchphd
This is an odd, unromantic story about my boyfriend. It's his birthday, and, well, maybe this is romantic after all, for them with eyes to see it.
The boyfriend and I met this summer. In many ways, this relationship has been impacted by depression, if not from the beginning, then from fall onward. Boyfriend and I both deal with it: he's an old hand, for me it's new. Last week, in my depression-related-websurfing (obviously the amount of time I spend online is both an avoidance and a coping mechanism), I ran across this. What leapt out at me was this statement:
"A clue for me that I am in an 'more affected by depression' phase is an inability to initiate needed work. This plagued me in college, of course, and I didn't understand the mechanism, so berated myself for laziness and lack of discipline."
Yes, I thought, that's it exactly. The inability to simply start work on something I need, even want, to do. My thing isn't really depression, it's anxiety: I think the depression is a sort of anxiety overload. The more I "can't" work, the more anxious I get. It's familiar to most academics, I think, even the rare few who aren't on drugs.
Anyway. One of the things I admire most about Boyfriend is that, instead of fighting who he is, the way I do, he seems, to me, to have constructed a life that accomodates who he is. It's something I'm trying to learn to do better myself. So, I am an overachiever good girl who, in hindsight, has struggled most of my life with that "laziness and lack of discipline" argument while simultaneously--and successfully--relying on being smarter than the average bear (she says, modestly) to compensate for my "poor work habits." Despite what I tell myself, it isn't a hallmark of the lazy to complete a dissertation with a baby on one hip. I do what I "should," even though I always feel I "should" be doing it faster, more gracefully, more smoothly. But I have done it. Boyfriend, on the other hand, dropped out of high school and started a series of businesses: his private life is, well, private, but let's just say he's had a few very low lows and a few very high highs. Throughout, it seems to me, he's successfully done, not what one "should" do, but exactly what he damn well felt like doing at the time. Like me, he has a hard time getting out of the house in the morning without a couple of hours alone with coffee and a newspaper. I fight that. He accepts it, and creates a life where he's in charge of his own hours. His life is riskier in one way, and safer in another. He's had more swings, more brushes with failure, perhaps; I've been steadily torn between a feeling of what I "ought" to be and a fear that that's not who I really am.
So, what is the point? He admires my achievements. I admire his. He has no formal education, but he is better-read than I am. He is a challenge for me, and I probably am for him, too. I'm married, after all; he loves me, and yet we will probably never live in the same town. I'd move to be with him, but it isn't fair to ask Mr. B. or pseudonymous kid to do that. He has roots, and a kid (not his own) who he is partly responsible for there, so he can't move either. I think he would like to have someone (me) there every morning. It won't be me. If someone else comes along, chances are that she won't accept this long-distance love affair on the side. For my part, I have to accept that, much as I would like a committment from him, I can't, I don't think, ask for one (though I've come close, believe me), because our situation is unbalanced. It's tough, and maybe it fuels the depression a bit, but at the same time, it feels like it heals it, as well: hope? Faith? Trust? Not sure what to call it.
Believe it or not, I am a committment type of girl. The subtext of the proposal story below is that, throughout everything, Mr. B. and I knew we loved each other. We got married in part because we knew we are good partners to one another. Readers ask, how do you "know" the boyfriend/fuckbuddies aren't a threat to the relationship? When we got married, we asked each other: under what circumstances would you want to leave me? The answer? If you hit me. If you hit pseudonymous kid. That's about it. Everything else, we can work through, because we know each other. Knowing that makes it "safe" to fall in love with someone else.
With Boyfriend, I don't have that. Partly because it's new. I think we both know that there's an "always" there, but it's a feeling, not a promise. Riskier. More dangerous. It's not one of those "shoulds" where I know the rules. Instead, it's exactly what we damn well feel like doing now. Want to fall in love? Fall. No idea where it's going to end up? Do it anyway. I don't have a map for this one. I can't really reason it through. There it is, like depression: a fact to be dealt with, and one you can't consciously control. Part of who I am. I've graduated. I've got the degree (the family, the marriage) in hand. Those things are mine. Now, there's this new thing, and no more "shoulds." Just, what do you want to do now?
Don't know if that makes sense. Don't know if it makes sense to me. Happy birthday anyway. I love you.
The boyfriend and I met this summer. In many ways, this relationship has been impacted by depression, if not from the beginning, then from fall onward. Boyfriend and I both deal with it: he's an old hand, for me it's new. Last week, in my depression-related-websurfing (obviously the amount of time I spend online is both an avoidance and a coping mechanism), I ran across this. What leapt out at me was this statement:
"A clue for me that I am in an 'more affected by depression' phase is an inability to initiate needed work. This plagued me in college, of course, and I didn't understand the mechanism, so berated myself for laziness and lack of discipline."
Yes, I thought, that's it exactly. The inability to simply start work on something I need, even want, to do. My thing isn't really depression, it's anxiety: I think the depression is a sort of anxiety overload. The more I "can't" work, the more anxious I get. It's familiar to most academics, I think, even the rare few who aren't on drugs.
Anyway. One of the things I admire most about Boyfriend is that, instead of fighting who he is, the way I do, he seems, to me, to have constructed a life that accomodates who he is. It's something I'm trying to learn to do better myself. So, I am an overachiever good girl who, in hindsight, has struggled most of my life with that "laziness and lack of discipline" argument while simultaneously--and successfully--relying on being smarter than the average bear (she says, modestly) to compensate for my "poor work habits." Despite what I tell myself, it isn't a hallmark of the lazy to complete a dissertation with a baby on one hip. I do what I "should," even though I always feel I "should" be doing it faster, more gracefully, more smoothly. But I have done it. Boyfriend, on the other hand, dropped out of high school and started a series of businesses: his private life is, well, private, but let's just say he's had a few very low lows and a few very high highs. Throughout, it seems to me, he's successfully done, not what one "should" do, but exactly what he damn well felt like doing at the time. Like me, he has a hard time getting out of the house in the morning without a couple of hours alone with coffee and a newspaper. I fight that. He accepts it, and creates a life where he's in charge of his own hours. His life is riskier in one way, and safer in another. He's had more swings, more brushes with failure, perhaps; I've been steadily torn between a feeling of what I "ought" to be and a fear that that's not who I really am.
So, what is the point? He admires my achievements. I admire his. He has no formal education, but he is better-read than I am. He is a challenge for me, and I probably am for him, too. I'm married, after all; he loves me, and yet we will probably never live in the same town. I'd move to be with him, but it isn't fair to ask Mr. B. or pseudonymous kid to do that. He has roots, and a kid (not his own) who he is partly responsible for there, so he can't move either. I think he would like to have someone (me) there every morning. It won't be me. If someone else comes along, chances are that she won't accept this long-distance love affair on the side. For my part, I have to accept that, much as I would like a committment from him, I can't, I don't think, ask for one (though I've come close, believe me), because our situation is unbalanced. It's tough, and maybe it fuels the depression a bit, but at the same time, it feels like it heals it, as well: hope? Faith? Trust? Not sure what to call it.
Believe it or not, I am a committment type of girl. The subtext of the proposal story below is that, throughout everything, Mr. B. and I knew we loved each other. We got married in part because we knew we are good partners to one another. Readers ask, how do you "know" the boyfriend/fuckbuddies aren't a threat to the relationship? When we got married, we asked each other: under what circumstances would you want to leave me? The answer? If you hit me. If you hit pseudonymous kid. That's about it. Everything else, we can work through, because we know each other. Knowing that makes it "safe" to fall in love with someone else.
With Boyfriend, I don't have that. Partly because it's new. I think we both know that there's an "always" there, but it's a feeling, not a promise. Riskier. More dangerous. It's not one of those "shoulds" where I know the rules. Instead, it's exactly what we damn well feel like doing now. Want to fall in love? Fall. No idea where it's going to end up? Do it anyway. I don't have a map for this one. I can't really reason it through. There it is, like depression: a fact to be dealt with, and one you can't consciously control. Part of who I am. I've graduated. I've got the degree (the family, the marriage) in hand. Those things are mine. Now, there's this new thing, and no more "shoulds." Just, what do you want to do now?
Don't know if that makes sense. Don't know if it makes sense to me. Happy birthday anyway. I love you.
Posted at 10:20 PM
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