Content warning: this does contain mention of depressive styles of thinking, and blindingly sappy hopefulness.
My husband is depressed, and I love him deeply. On the days where I am feeling inspired to, I tell him how much I love him and many other things, and I try to inspire him too.
He wants to be inspired, but he is drawn into thinking about harsh realities, and life’s problems.
I do not blame him for this. I do not love him less for this.
When we are both feeling morbid, I will always love him, and continue to want to inspire him.
Yes, even when I feel the sandpaper of reality grating it’s fine grain and trying to polish away my ‘shine’ on life.
Emotions are messy, life is messy. Things are in a perpetual state of being broken and being fixed, sometimes at once.
Through all that, I have hopes for our “some days”, and sometimes those hopes are just be able to share my hopes.
This is not just for him, but for me, and my own struggles too, because I am not less aware of those harsh realities, just slightly better at sticking all my worry about them into very short intense spaces (sometimes so condensed they become panic). Contrasted with what he, the depressed one, does instead, by spreading the thoughts out over ‘our morning toast’ with the awareness that today will not last, and the ability to think about tomorrow will last until one simply doesn’t have a tomorrow. (Bleak, but accurate, please take heart, and ignore that thought as best you can unless it benefits you, because thinking about tomorrow’s tomorrow can all to easily use up today, and I do not want that for you and I’m fairly sure neither do you.)
Some day, I would like to be able to tell you how much you mean to me, and not have you remind me of how little to mean to the universe.
Some day, I would like to opine about how wonderful it is to be around you, without being reminded that it comes at a cost for us both.
Some day, I would like to talk to you seriously about how many things I want for our future, without having to know the burden of the present.
Someday, I would like to share in the day itself, without the weight of tomorrow, and every other tomorrow after that.
Someday, I would like to have you share your hopes and dreams with me, and know that it’s not just because I’m crying.
Someday, I would like to have a deep impactful thought, and share without worrying it will darken your day by reminding you of everything else
Someday, I would like for the emotions we have to belong to us because we want them to.
And someday my love, I would like for you to be able to write your own hopes and dreams for our some days.
(As well as your other thoughts, especially the beautiful, and brilliant ones that I am too small an audience for you to truly see the wonder of the fascinating concepts you devise, tales you tell, and humorous ramblings you provide.)
I imagine many people have some days, and that plenty of them have nothing to do with their spouses, which is perfectly fine. Enjoy and ruminate on whatever some days you feel inclines to. The exploration of thoughts is a wonderful thing, and I think it should be done often, especially for our own benefit.
My hopes that all of us my have our some days, especially my husband.
Depressed people are beautiful & wonderful too, and there is every reason to keep loving them and striving for some day. ❤