I don't need fixing.
On this brilliantly lovely day I have been reading dooce.com (linked on the left...), and this was written by Heather Armstrong (a Goddess among writers) on her blog:
"For quite awhile during Leta’s first few months, I wasn’t sure what I would be coming home to at the end of a work day. The summer of 2004 was pretty bad, and I tried to be positive and upbeat, but ultimately I learned I couldn’t fix her. I think this is the biggest male-who-is-a-significant-other delusion; that we can somehow fix it. Learning this is fundamental to dealing with a person who suffers from a mental illness. I had to learn to accept and support. This was difficult and something I’m still working on."
It's what her husband said in an interview several years ago, and it really hit home with me because I had a conversation with Boy where he said he "can't fix me." And I pretty much yelled at him, "I never asked you to." Because it really pisses me off when people think that they alone can solve my problems.
I don't want one person to solve my problems. I want someone who will be there while I am solving them. Someone who can make me laugh no matter what. Someone who will watch me fall asleep while we watch a movie.
It takes a village to help me with my depression, and part of that village is the pharmacy where they keep the cool anti-depressants. My parents and brother are helping, my psychologist and my psychiatrist are helping, and so are my friends. But mainly, it's therapy with said psychologist and anti-depressants from said psychiatrist that are helping - or at least starting to help. I am able to say that I stay awake longer during the day. I just have no idea what to do with my day.
But back to the fixing. That also goes for my CF - there is nothing that can fix me, and the best thing anyone can do for me is watch a movie with me, or hold my hand when I'm scared (because sometimes I hate this disease so much and the CF actually scares me), or hold my hand even when I'm not scared just so that I know you're there.
Since this post was inspired by Heather B. Armstrong and her website - visit www.dooce.com to give her some credit for me being able to express myself and what I need.
"For quite awhile during Leta’s first few months, I wasn’t sure what I would be coming home to at the end of a work day. The summer of 2004 was pretty bad, and I tried to be positive and upbeat, but ultimately I learned I couldn’t fix her. I think this is the biggest male-who-is-a-significant-other delusion; that we can somehow fix it. Learning this is fundamental to dealing with a person who suffers from a mental illness. I had to learn to accept and support. This was difficult and something I’m still working on."
It's what her husband said in an interview several years ago, and it really hit home with me because I had a conversation with Boy where he said he "can't fix me." And I pretty much yelled at him, "I never asked you to." Because it really pisses me off when people think that they alone can solve my problems.
I don't want one person to solve my problems. I want someone who will be there while I am solving them. Someone who can make me laugh no matter what. Someone who will watch me fall asleep while we watch a movie.
It takes a village to help me with my depression, and part of that village is the pharmacy where they keep the cool anti-depressants. My parents and brother are helping, my psychologist and my psychiatrist are helping, and so are my friends. But mainly, it's therapy with said psychologist and anti-depressants from said psychiatrist that are helping - or at least starting to help. I am able to say that I stay awake longer during the day. I just have no idea what to do with my day.
But back to the fixing. That also goes for my CF - there is nothing that can fix me, and the best thing anyone can do for me is watch a movie with me, or hold my hand when I'm scared (because sometimes I hate this disease so much and the CF actually scares me), or hold my hand even when I'm not scared just so that I know you're there.
Since this post was inspired by Heather B. Armstrong and her website - visit www.dooce.com to give her some credit for me being able to express myself and what I need.
Comments
I can't believe anyone thinks they have to "fix" you. They should just enjoy their time with you. WTF?