Loving Someone with Depression

Leaving this here as it may help some people in this position, but don't know what to do

Living with someone with depression can be taxing on your own well-being, especially without a support group. Being supportive, always saying the right thing, etc. You absolutely need to find time for yourself. In my case, exploring new adventures on my own, always with an open invitation, sparked hope & excitement in my partner.

Perfect timing as I was just wondering about my own, depressed, partner.

It's a good article, but articles like these are usually at the level of "depression is a real thing." Which is obviously true, but here are some things that mental health experts probably won't (or can't) tell you. A depressed partner might not be able to give or receive love. The giving love part is understandable, but the not receiving love part is tricky. Your partner might feel that you don't love them, and might be angry or resentful that you aren't loving them, even though you are. They might think if you loved them their depression would end. Your partner might feel so bad about themselves that they don't feel they deserve love, and that by loving them you're just stressing them out the way it feels when people want you to eat when you're not hungry. Your partner might see a therapist, and because of the nature of therapy, might be nudged into blaming you for all their woes. Finally, there's the possibility that you're the reason your partner is depressed. You might be a huge disappointment, but they feel too guilty to leave you, and feel trapped and helpless by the situation. Your partner might have imagined their life would have been very different and is so frustrated that they just shut down. Your partner might feel that the love you give isn't worth anything because it's coming from a loser. Probably the best thing you can do is make a good life and hope your joy will spark something in them.

My own major debilating depression was such that I couldn't get out of bed other than to use the toilet. Worse than that I could see no reason to get out of bed and didn't care to get out of bed. Taking a shower and getting dressed was out of the question. I knew the strain I was causing in my family, but since I didn't feel anything, I couldn't feel enough empathy for them to do anything about it. I knew I used to love them, but that seemed a long time ago and there was no hope of ever feeling again. I thought about suicide often, but my inability to get motivated prevented me from carrying it out. I once had a bounce of energy so I started planning to kill myself and the weird thing was, that I felt the happiest I had ever felt in my life. It was such a feeling of peace and joy that it would soon be over.

Fortunately for me, my family would not tolerate me in this condition and forced to me to get out of bed and dragged me to doctors and checked me into mental health units until we found the right doctor who perscribed the right medication that worked. Turns out typical anti-depressants don't work on me because I am bipolar and was experiencing bipolar depression.

It's been three years of recovery now and I am very happy. I take my quatiepine every night and get the sleep I need so I don't relaspe into mania and then depression.

My family is not sophisticated about mental illness. They would rather not think about it. But the one thing they did is to refuse to let me remain in that state and forced me to take action.