Depression and Marriage

I'm newly married to a truly GOOD man. I never imagined I would actually be one of the masses who fell in love and matrimony. My dream was to work with women and children caught up in sex-trafficking in Asia. As a teenager, I figured I'd adopt eight asian kids and my best guy friend would be their father figure. 

Ryan changed everything. I'm grateful for that.

The first year of marriage is notoriously difficult. You're both learning how to live with each other's little quirks, how to communicate affectively, and what real love is all about. It's not always exciting or fun, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

On one lazy Sunday afternoon, Ryan and I talked about what we individually found difficult in marriage. I wasn't surprised when he said my depression was challenging for him. I can't help but feeling guilty about it. I wish I could hide it from him, but I've never been good at masking feelings. I feel as though my demons are his, now we are metaphorically "one." I know it's a two way road, but my demons are...overbearingly in your face. It's a burden I don't want to share, but know it's impossible to spare him without simultaneously hurting him as well. 

Explaining depression and it's companion, self hatred, is challenging. Sometimes it hits me for no reason, while other times, a situation or thought triggers it's appearance. I feel as though I'm at the bottom of the ocean. The pressure is so overwhelmingly intense to the point I wish I'd just end it all. Last week while feeling miserable at work, I found myself picturing how I'd end it. Not until later that evening did I even realize there's something morbidly wrong I was actually contemplating how I would end my life. 

I feel guilty for struggling with depression and self hatred. I don't want to bring anyone else down with me. I feel I deserve it, but not the ones who love me. 

However, Ryan is one of the few people who can bring me out of it's darkness. I love him for it. He looks me in the eyes and tells me I am loved. I am beautiful. I am not fat. I am WORTH something. That last one is always the kicker. I can't help but cry when he says it because it's something I so desperately want to believe. 

As I am struggling with depression today, contemplating on a body I hate and a job I find painfully boring, I try to remember the clouds will part and I will feel happiness again. I fight it for what I have to live for- a husband, family, friends, my dog, and a future with those very people surrounding me with their love, even when I have nothing to give at the moment. 

That Always Awkward First Post

There's been times the past few weeks where I ponder on various subjects and wish I kept a diary or something to write them down. I suppose I do have a diary collecting dust somewhere, but I dislike my handwriting and become overly perfectionistic to the point it becomes more dissatisfying than satisfying. 

I also have a blog and even a youtube channel with over 3,000 followers (it still blows my mind that so many people find what I have to say interesting enough to watch me ramble for ten minutes at a time). However, it's under a fake name and centers around my personal struggle with Anorexia. I want...I NEED to move away from the eating disorder world. I fear it's only holding me back from a full recovery, if that even exists. So although my posts may be eating disorder related, I don't want it to be expected or focused on...

Who knows how often I'll write my innermost thoughts on here, or if anyone ever reads them. At least I will know this place exists.