I remember the day we met, I sat next to you and told you I had something really important to tell you and that if you didn’t want to see me anymore, I would understand. I was shaking in my boots. You and I were electric and I didn’t want this to prevent us from exploring that spark.
Telling someone you have a mental disability is pretty terrifying. After I told you I was bipolar, you were relieved. You thought I was going to tell you I had AIDS or something. I am happy to report that is not the case. I was relieved too, you accepted the news so well. You told me how you have been treated for similar issues, it felt good to be understood.
Today is the first day in our relationship so far that it has come into play. I feel crazy. I am crying while I type this. I feel insecure, I am talking myself out of every sweet word, every late night, every Sunday morning. The worst part is, I know this is all irrational and that these feeling and thoughts will go away in a day or two. I can’t help it.
I texted you to let you know that I was struggling, and you were so sweet and let me know you are here for me to talk if I need to. You always let me know you are thinking of me. I appreciate you. Your words mean a lot.
I want this to go away, but it won’t. These episodes will come back to haunt me. I won’t let them win, I promise I will always tell you when my chest feels small. My chest is the space in which you dwell, and on days like these, it tightens and tries to push you out, but I won’t let it. It is cold out there, get back inside, and shut the door behind you.