A couple of weeks ago it all got too much. It had been building, simmering just under the surface, barely contained by a fake smile and a foolish belief that if I asked help I would get it. All I had to do was be brave enough to ask, right?

Wrong.

I reached out, told my fiancé that I’m depressed. I was in tears, vulnerable and being honest with him instead of putting on a happy face for the first time in a long time.
He hugged me, let me sob and lean on him. I couldn’t even speak but I felt myself relax, I felt safe in a way I hadn’t in so long I can’t even remember. I felt such relief that finally, this was it, he would support me and look after me and hear me.
Then, somehow, that moment was gone. I felt my muscles tense again, the tears stopped and I waited ...
His tone was calm, softly spoken words that broke my heart and stopped my breath
“Baby, you know you let yourself feel like this, you need a more positive outlook. Just let go of things, get over it and stop ruining our evenings with your crap. “

I was broken. He’s right. Why am I dragging him down with me? He really would be better off if I wasn’t here, and who else would miss me?

I can’t shake this thought, that I could disappear and not be missed. Now it’s reinforced by the knowledge that I can reach out and not be heard. By the one person I could trust above anyone else, the one person I believed when he said he loved me and would always look out for me.

I’m fighting every day just to stay alive.
My fiancé is now less of a reason to fight than my cats.
I just need him to understand how hard it is to keep breathing when I feel like I’m drowning.