I’ve seen this coming for a long time, pretty much since my breakdown over the summer. Actually, before that, when I had to back out of a trip at the last minute because I ran out of klonopin and my refill didn’t arrive in time to go. Ever since, my boyfriend had been holding me at arm’s length, seemingly unsure of what to do. We’d stop communicating, he started assuming I’d always say no so he wouldn’t invite me out, I’d be hurt when I found out he’d gone out and didn’t invite me. So Sunday night, we finally talked it through and decided to call it quits. We care about each other, but we can’t make each other happy.
He just has no concept of mental illness, no framework for it. He’s never had a loved one with a mental illness. He wanted me to go out every night or at least most of them, and all of my explanations for why that can’t work historically have failed. No amount of explaining appears to really make sense to him; no matter how I tell him that I need to remain as stable as possible and avoid overstimulation so my mood doesn’t fluctuate wildly, he just doesn’t really get it. I can’t go out more often, and be able to maintain my stability and employment in particular. He can’t be happy with that, so it was time to let go.
We’ve decided just to be friends, and for once, I actually meant it. I think we’ll be happier as friends. Hell, we even said “I love you” as we ended the conversation.
It’s going to be more quiet, but less stressful… I like less stressful. Too many things to juggle, with a boyfriend.