Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 16 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

You didn't say why.

I don't understand. After 7, or 8, or however many years it was, you left without explanation. Dissolved the vows. Moved out and then out some more. Gone. And I was never told why. I asked. I asked. But I still don't know why.

And then, today, here you are. On my blog... Donating to my dog... He was our dog once. "How did you find my blog," I asked? Why would she be reading my blog, I wondered? And your response further baffled rather than explained. I don't understand.

You "wonder how I'm doing every so often," and you look me up online, "to see if you've run any races or such," you said. But...if you cared, and I know you do, why did you leave like that? I care too, just so you know. I care, too.

But I've not looked you up except once, and that was only in hopes of finding a phone number where I might contact you. I had reason to contact you. That's why I looked you up. But by the time you left, your disdain for me was readily apparent. You were so aloof, and so, "fuck you this is what I need to do," and...selfish...I had never seen you selfish. And I was lost and confused. Very confused. And soon, I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted you to go, too.

I came home to an empty house the day before my birthday. Surreal. Why did you leave me wondering? Speculating is not enjoyable and can lead down paths you may never have thought of, but you left me no choice. I still don't know. I still don't understand. And I am baffled that you've thought enough of me to look me up--an action reminiscent of the person I married, but not the person who left.

I am also not the person you left. I am proud of where I've been, and what I've done. The friends I have now would not recognize the woman I was before this illness ravaged my life. I am so much better now--not the illness, but me. I've worked hard, and here I am.

Yet, hearing from you sinks me back to a place I don't want to be, not because I don't want to know you're okay, too, but because the confusion and hurt come again to the fore. The "if only's" crackle sharply in my brain. The silent grief of what could have been awakens from within.

I am not crying victim. I did many things wrong. And perhaps if you had stayed, I never would have become the me I currently am--the better me. Yet, I would have liked the chance. I thought we had agreed to that. I thought we made that commitment when we shared those vows so many years before.

That was the root of my confusion. I couldn't make you explain how you arrived at the decision you did. You needed to do what you needed to do. But can you understand how I felt--how I still feel? It's seven years later, and I still can't answer the what-happened-question.

You left as if I was an enemy whose cruel oppression you'd endured for years. More than the dissolution of our relationship, that is what hurt. That is what still hurts. I didn't know...I don't know what I did. And I didn't have the opportunity to fix it. You were gone on the wings of what felt to me like hate. I wanted to apologize for whatever made you feel about me that way. Instead, I was left to question the reality of an entire chapter of my life.

Yet, there you were today. You said, "Despite what you might think, I wish you only happiness and success." I don't know what you think I might be thinking, but it seems you're assuming anger and condemnation. If so, you're not even close. I'm still hurt and confused. Hurt and confused. And I wish you happiness and success, too.

4 comments:

Michelle (The Beartwinsmom) said...

Hugs, hugs, and more hugs.... you have no idea how much we have in common now. We must e-mail about this. This post really hit home for me.

Sending you more hugs (can we ever have enough hugs?) and love.

Michelle (The Beartwinsmom) said...

Open mouth, insert bear claws from my post at my blog. I thought it was about your mom. I guess my brain was processing faster than my eyes were reading and I jumped to conclusions. My bad. :-(

Addiction Treatment said...

well , may be this is the best. god knows.

Anonymous said...

Hey-was just catching up on this and you didn't share this recent conversation with me.. not that you have too..but it explains some things. thinking about you..



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