My happiness does not stem from anyone but myself. Not from the guy standing in front of me in the Starbucks line who cracked a dad joke while on the phone, not the lady sitting beside me under the dryer at the salon showing me pictures of all of her grand-kids who decided to play in mud, nor the young girl behind me in the booth of Buffalo Wild Wings telling her parents how Kelsey put gum in Diamond's hair at the sleepover last night. Their actions or what they say can cause an emotional reaction, but it is up to me to move the muscles to display them. It is my job to choose when I would like to react to things with a smile, a frown, a cry, or a giggle.
It is no one’s job but my own to express my feelings so I will not give that responsibly to anyone but myself.
My name is Tyson Lee, but you guys knew that. I am a Taurus, born on April 30, 1998. For those of you that can’t do simple math like me, that puts me at 22 years old. I am extremely stubborn, outgoing, sometimes funny, independent, and loyal—perhaps almost to a fault. My dating life so far has been… I don’t even know to explain it. All I can say is that I have learned something with each step.
My first kiss happened in the 7th grade at a bowling alley. We were in the arcade next to the race car games and it just happened... Our eyes locked onto each other’s and our lips started gravitating until they both met, and my right foot began to rise and… Okay, I am being so extra right now!
My first kiss was my middle school crush. We used to write notes back and forth to each other during class. "Do you like me? Check ‘yes’ or ‘no’". Soon, he was my boyfriend and I was his girlfriend and we held hands at the lunch table (I really hope you can read my sarcasm at this point). After a while, my best friend stole him from me and that crushed my itty bitty heart—again sarcasm.
Okay, okay I am done messing around; my first real relationship was during my junior year of high school. He was such a sweetheart and so very kind. I am giving kudos to his parents for raising such a gentleman. He did the simple things that went a long way, like leaving flowers on my front porch, picking me up for ice cream when I was feeling down, surprising me with random “Thinking of You” cards with handwritten notes telling me how much he cared. We went on dates to the aquarium and cool restaurants with nice food. He also had this crazy love for cars and honestly I never understood it because I do not even know what the engine looks like or where it’s located, but listening to him talk about something that he was so passionate about was rewarding to me.
Anyways, our fun came to an end when I started to feel suffocated. He wasn't the cause of this feeling, but he was graduated by the this time and I was still in high school and I felt that he wanted to settle down way too fast. I got scared and backed away. It was my senior year and I felt like I would have missed out on a lot of my last and final things with him around—at least, I felt like that at the time. So yeah, it was me; I ruined something good.
My second relationship was... HELL. It was a long distance relationship (why did I ever agree to that?). Everyone knows the saying “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Well, I let this one shame me way too many times, so I guess in a way this one is on me as well. I thought I loved this man. He showed all the nice signs at first. He knew all the right things to say, how to reel me in, and how to keep me attached. When we first started dating, I had just lost my best friend to suicide, so I was in a very vulnerable state. I also was going through being freshly diagnosed with depression and I was at my lowest. I didn’t realize it then, but he used that to his advantage.
Things with him were so good until they weren’t. Literally, it was like a light switch turning on and off. He went from telling me how much he loved me and how he couldn’t live without me to ghosting me for a week and putting the blame on the most ridiculous things (No, really—his excuses were unbelievable). So, we took a little break from each other. Then, when he got bored, he came back around. He used his slick mouthpiece, having known all of the right things to say just to get me back.
The more good times we had, the more love I felt, and the more I thought I was falling for him. This time felt different… Until he ghosted me again. I thought, "Ugh, how can I be so stupid, how can he do this again?" I swore I was done with him... Until I wasn't.
He shoots, he scores another shot with me.
However, this time he wasn't bored. I was low and I needed someone to confide in. I needed someone to pick me up and because I thought he did that for me, I wasn’t focused on the thought that he was going to do that again.
In reality, he dug my hole even deeper and kicked me while I was down. I never felt loved by him. I never saw that he cared. Actually, he didn't do a damn thing for me—so why in the hell was I sticking around? I still do not know, even to this day. He was not good for me. He lowered my self-esteem, he wasted almost two years of my life, and in the best words I can think of... He destroyed me. Even still, I hope he is doing well. I mean that.
Dating while dealing with depression is so hard. What am I supposed to do—tell you on the first date that I suffer from depression? Or, shall I wait until we’re married and on our honeymoon? Maybe I will put it in my Instagram bio: “Hi, I have depression and if I don't take my medication every single day, I’ll go bat shit crazy.”
That is how you look at depression, isn't it? Like I am crazy because I need a few pills to keep me mentally stable? Does it scare you when I say I have a therapist and I need a session?
It’s not the same as having a child, you know? No one is going to love depression like they would love a human being. A lot of people will say that it’s not a big deal, but it is. Depression is a part of me, so when I am having an episode and I am super low and don't want to get out of bed, how are you going to help me? As my significant other it’s your job, right? Through sickness and in health, right?
No, it is not your job. You are neither my therapist nor my doctor, so it is not your job to help me deal with myself. It’s my job to find my happiness, but it’s your job to love me unconditionally while I do so. Don't run while I fight a disease that I have no control of. Don’t back away because you don’t know how to deal with me—because, in that case, you shouldn’t have even opened your mouth to holla at me.
After my last relationship, I learned that I am the only one that can love me unconditionally. I am also the only one has complete control over my emotions. I also am the one with depression and I am the one fighting. I wouldn't ask anyone to fight my battle for me, but I could use a little support from time to time.
Your job as my significant other is not to carry to the finish line, but rather to cheer for me through it all and have water waiting for me when I finally cross the line.
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