Love, Relationships & Mental Health

Today marks 9 years to the day since I first told a girl I loved her. Why do I remember this date? Primarily it's because I'm good with dates, but I'm also quite sentimental.

In the intervening years I've told three more women the same thing, and I can honestly say that I've meant it each time, without hesitation. I'm always rather cagey during the early stages of a relationship; primarily because of how much they mean to me. I love being in a relationship; I love everything that comes with it. The companionship, the private jokes, the pet names etc. So, as I say, during the early stages I'm always a little nervous about things; making promises, talking about the future and so forth.

This rarely, if ever, has anything to do with the woman herself, but rather how much it means to me to be able to say something and truly mean it. The idea of making plans for the future before I'm certain that there's a future to plan scares the shit out of me; I can't stand the thought of letting somebody down anymore than I can stand the thought of being let down myself.

An old memory; it's called "Daft Subway Photo Shit"

As you've no doubt gathered, these four relationships have each now come to an end, and for the most part I treasure the memories I made during my time with each of my previous girlfriends. Hannah C showed me what it was to be in love for the first time. Lucy taught me what it was to have a family outside of my own; her family were deeply welcoming and loving, and embraced me immediately, for which I was immeasurably grateful. Charlotte showed me what it was to be carefree and adventurous, but also what it was to have somebody deal with my mental health issues for the first time as Dad passed away midway through our relationship and I began a downward spiral that I've struggled with ever since.

Lastly, Hannah L provided a drive to see the world and step beyond my comfort zone. Moreover, her family also became my family. Her parents were loving and caring, her siblings were welcoming and familiar. Even her family friends welcomed me with open arms.

For as wonderful as each of these relationships were for the most part, they were often met with complications brought about by my predisposition to depression and anxiety. I've fortunately never been a jealous or suspicious person, so that never factored into it, but having to explain to somebody why you're not always beaming when you see them or why sometimes the idea of going into town or doing the usual "date night" stuff scared me was always a difficulty. When you're getting about 12 hours sleep per week and dealing with a deep-seated anxiety and insecurity, it's often the case that the last thing you want is a Nando's or a cinema date.

These people begin to truly believe that what's wrong with you is a direct reflection on them, and the feelings you have for them. This, as you might expect, becomes something of an issue.

What's worse is that I personally consider myself somewhat of a romantic. I love big gestures and I love small gestures. I love surprising my girlfriend with flowers, hand-making cards for certain anniversaries, dates or birthdays, or just showing up with their favourite pizza or bar of chocolate. All this may sound insignificant and small, but these things were always my way of proving that "I do sincerely love you", despite all the arguments and the seclusion.

Four months into 2017, my most recent relationship came to an end rather abruptly. Things had been difficult for a while; my head was going, and generally the state of the relationship wasn't what you'd call ideal. She had often worried that I would leave her for somebody else. Ironically, she met a man at a new job and decided that was where life should take her next. It's a tough thing to reconcile when you're already that low, and when you follow it up with a drugging and an assault, you find yourself with little to no self-worth whatsoever.

So today being any other day, I find myself still in two minds about relationships. On the one hand, there's nothing I love more than pizza nights and Netflix with a partner. I love falling asleep with the woman I love in my arms, and I love waking up before they do and seeing them sleeping safely and soundly only to wake up, bright eyed and look at me with unconditional adoration.

To revisit my initial point, since this relationship ended I made a conscious decision to remain single for the foreseeable future. In large part, this was due to the prospect of having contracted HIV or Hepatitis hanging over me, but more so it was because I realised how much healthier I tend to be when I'm single.

It's an odd paradox. I love being in love, but it brings so many complications that become near impossible to deal with when you can barely bring yourself to wake up in the morning. With that said, I've been single for nearly nine months now. In terms of my mental health I'm leaps and bounds ahead of where I was a year or two ago.

Partly it's due to the time I've taken off work to heal after the events of last year, but I also feel it's because I'm not currently beholden to the duties inherent in relationships.

To clarify, I loved Hannah. We travelled Europe together, made plans, celebrated various occasions and had all the things you'd expect of a relationship (good and bad). Now, however, I'm able to focus entirely on myself. I can ensure I'm recovering properly and I don't have to worry about letting anybody down or visiting people when I simply don't feel up to it.

So where does that leave me? Do I believe relationships mix well with mental health issues?

Ultimately, I think it boils down to the individual. If you're the sort of couple that is each able to accept the nature of one another's problems, then yes, you can likely make it work, but for the time being I'm reasonably sure I'm happy being alone. That is to say, until such a time as I meet somebody that takes my breath away again.

I bear both a great deal of fondness and resentment regarding the past, especially the recent past. I'm still working through it, and I fully believe that for the time being I'm far safer keeping to myself and continuing to recover. I still lament the lack of somebody to fall asleep with and wake up to, but honestly I couldn't in truth say that I'd be willing to have that again if it meant a regression into old schools of thought. I don't have the energy or inclination for pointless arguments or jealousy. I suppose it's much simpler to say the following, and hope that it comes to pass:

I'm nearly 28. I've had some of the worst experiences I'll ever have since I turned 20, and I'm determined to make 2018 and beyond a time filled with as much positivity and happiness as I can manage. I want the next woman I say "I love you" to, to be the last person I say it to.

Though maybe you hope for that with every relationship; who knows?

Point is, a lot of my friends have recently married, had children and begun a life together. I honestly could not be happier for them. Not only because they deserve it, but also because they keep having beautiful children that I get to visit with and coo over because I love kids.

So I'll finish with this. I'm happy. I'm healthy. I'm content for that to remain the case. Should the circumstances surrounding that contentment change without affecting the happiness itself then I'll be the first to celebrate it.

Until then, I'll remain happily alone, but not lonely; excited to tell the next amazing person to enter my life - "I love you."