You Were Sick. So was I – The Day I Drove You to the Doctor
I know you’ll never read this, but I’m writing it anyway. It’s for myself and to honour my truth and experience.
Earlier today, I had a nap and had a rare dream with you. You appeared in a place I didn’t recognize and simply said, “It’s okay. You will be okay.” I asked you for a hug and you did. Your hug felt like home. It felt like the kind of love I once believed was unbreakable. When I woke up, I was in tears. You’ve only appeared in my dreams twice since we ended, but both times, I felt both comfort and ache being reminded of something I can’t return to. I can’t even speak with you anymore.
A year ago today, last November 10th, I took you to the doctor because you felt sick. You asked me for a couple days, but I delayed. You were upset and said, “In sickness and in health,” as if it was my obligation to come. Maybe it was. Maybe it would have been the loving thing to do. But what you didn’t recognize was that, for over 2 months before, I had been quietly falling apart. For at least 4-5 weeks, I was telling you that I’m struggling.
I told you many times I wasn’t doing well. I told you that my mind was fogged, heavy, and barely functioning. I told you I was getting angry when I shouldn’t be. I told you I was unexpectedly bursting in to tears many times a week…and often in the mornings as I left your house.
But I resented you because my words were brushed off as “complaints” or “being dramatic.” You even told me “You might die tomorrow” as if that was supposed to magically fix how I’m feeling today.
You didn’t seem to hear me, and I struggled to make you understand. I even defended you to myself, thinking maybe you just didn’t know how to handle it, or maybe you were dealing with your own pain. I gave you grace because you haven’t experienced mental health issues with previous boyfriends…But in that process, I dismissed my own pain too, by telling myself I’m weak.
When you got sick, I wanted to care for you. But I was emotionally and mentally exhausted. Even just masking those feelings from the world every day was exhausting in itself. I resented that my invisible pain didn’t seem to matter as much as your visible symptoms. You needed a ride, but I needed someone to notice I was barely holding myself together. All I wanted was a simple check-in, a small “It’s okay to feel that way. I still love you”.
I also resented you asking me to drive you because you would often cite wanting to live in Toronto to be close to friends/family (you don’t even have family in Toronto – they’re in Oakville and Vaughan which is equally as annoying to get to as Hamilton). I thought to myself, why don’t you ask your friends that you want to live close to and tell them it’s an emergency? You’re choosing to be close to them instead of me. Let them help you. I’m struggling with my mental health and feel like I’m burning out.
But I ended up coming and I drove you. And even then, when I arrived, you hadn’t searched for a clinic yet. We drove for 45 minutes to one that’s not taking appointments and we had to go again the next day. That moment crystallized something for me. I realized your empathy is dependent on convenience. It hurt to admit that to myself, but I saw it clearly.
Looking back now, I realize how little I understood the toll that emotional neglect can take. I blamed myself for so long…for not explaining my struggles better, for letting resentment build. But when I reread our old messages later with professionals, it became clear that I WAS expressing myself. I just wasn’t being heard. I was clear that I’m struggling inside and that it needs to be taken seriously before I collapse/burn out/explode/melt down….or even worse, give in to the darkest thoughts of my mind.
This made me realize that I don’t know how to tell you what is happening inside my mind, because the words “Cris, I’m struggling” are not registering….especially because I was experiencing things I haven’t before and at intensity levels I have never reached.
My heart knows you weren’t deliberately cruel. I don’t believe you ever meant to hurt me, at least not up to this point. But your inability to see my pain created a wall between us that neither of us knew how to climb. I learned that being with someone who doesn’t validate your internal world can make you feel lonelier than being alone.
If I could relive those days, I’d come right away to help you… but I’d also speak my truth with more courage. I’d have told you clearly, “I’m not okay, and I need you to take that seriously.” Because love without empathy isn’t partnership. It’s performance. And the energy it took to mask and perform was draining me from my daily existence.
I’m sorry for not coming sooner. I’m sorry for being stubborn. I’m sorry for not being the gentle and caring me, that you know I truly am. But more than that, I’m sorry to myself….for minimizing my own pain to keep the peace, for thinking that withholding the depth of my inner struggles was compassion for you.
In my dream today, your words, “You will be okay” felt like something my own mind finally gave back to me. You weren’t the one saying it at all. Even if we did talk, I’m not sure you would say anything like that….because you never did at all after I started to regress mentally. So maybe it was just my subconscious forgiving myself.
Sometimes, healing begins when you finally stop explaining your pain to someone who was never ready to understand it. For reasons I still can’t figure out, I’m STILL hanging on to the need to be understood by Cris. I don’t know how much this ADHD thing is playing into that, but it’s a common trait amongst us (struggling to let go and ruminating far longer than others, about any conflict and not just relationships). Maybe it’s because my heart knows things could and should have been different, if I was armed with the knowledge and understanding I have now.
Long time ago, I accepted that my vision for our shared future will never come to fruition….but part of me still wishes I could hear you acknowledge and finally apologize…and say “I’m sorry Owen. I wish I took your mental health seriously and I’m sorry for dismissing how you felt. I know you’re capable of meeting my needs because you have before. I know you desperately wanted to and were trying with all your heart… but your mental health struggles prevented you from meeting your own daily needs as well. It was unfair to hold you to high expectations while you fought to overcome your struggles”.
The closure we wait for from others is often the one we need to give ourselves. Yes, it happened. Yes, it hurt. And yes, I’m still worthy of love...because I’m not a monster and my explosion/meltdown does not define me.