About two and a half years ago I entered the dating world. I signed up for a dating website and met someone almost instantly. I fell in love within three days; before I’d even met him. I’d never thought I could ever feel this way about someone.
After a couple of months of long essay length emails we finally met. It was a wonderful date. We lost track of time and ended up spending eight hours together. I decided to open up about my depression. He was just silent. I’d expected some sort of reaction, but I got nothing.
It ended after the second date. I was devastated and heart broken, particularly because of the way he dealt with it; he just dropped off the radar. I kept hoping I would run into him and he would take me back. I told myself all the reasons he wasn’t right for me, but it still took nine months before I was ready to move on.
After this I dated two other men I met online. It never got passed the second date.
My depression told me no one would ever want me. I thought I was too depressed to be loved. And because I thought I was too depressed, I got more depressed.
Every time I saw someone get engaged on Facebook, or get married, or have their first kid, or buy a house together, etc, etc… something in me would break.
…and then I moved into the same shared apartment as my now boyfriend.
Even when he showed interest in me I would self sabotage. There was so much doubt. I told myself he could never love me. I’m too depressed… Why would anyone want me?.. I’m too fat… If I didn’t have depression he would want me… If only I wasn’t so fat…
We started dating after a few months having known each other. I kept taking his shyness as disinterest. I told myself he couldn’t possibly like me because I was too fat or because I was too depressed. Even when he was a complete gentleman: when he walked me home; took me out weekly; paid for my meals; helped me in every stage of my (second) move, I still told myself he couldn’t possibly see me as more of a friend.
He’s seen every side of me. He’s seen me in a flirty mood. He’s seen my silly moods. He’s seen me tired. He’s seen me frustrated. He’s seen me sick. He’s seen me lying on the sofa with a hot water bottle. He’s seen me crying my heart out when I can’t be reasoned with. He’s seen me self harm. He’s seen my room in a mess. He’s put up with my very annoying tic disorder. He’s seen me on my absolute darkest days.
And yet, he’s chosen to be with me. One week to the day I’ve been able to say ‘I have a boyfriend’.
He tells me that of course I’m worthy to be loved. He tells me that it’s nonsense to think I’m too fat to be loved. He tells me I’m important to him.
You are worthy to be loved too. Don’t give up on your dreams just yet.