And it’s more than hell on earth.
“Yes I know you’ve always been a little depressive,” he tells me.
“No.. you don’t understand,” I cry, “I. Speak. Sadness.”
We’re way beyond love languages with this.
This is me trying to explain to my partner how I, as a human, connect to people. Human people.
A huge revelation of late has been me realizing that sadness is a literal language for my heart. Cry me a river why don’t you, right? Except it takes a lot of fucking strength to acknowledge this. Even to my partner.
My partner who.. has no idea how many mental issues I struggle with on a daily basis. And how much I don’t want to burden him with most of them.
He’s heard and seen the highlights reel, and I trust him with all my heart. But there’s a deep part of me still struggling with allowing him to help me weather my storms.
Case in point: my grandfather passed away unexpectedly last winter. My issues with family run deep, and my grandfather was the last living relative who I believed gave a single shit about me. So naturally, and like a total psychopath, I went into a 2-week depressive anger spiral, completely pushing away the person closest to me.
