Too much too fast is a mood-killer, and it can sometimes read as being a little nuts?
I’m not going to tell you about the time I left the country with complete strangers, either, and at least that makes me seem insane interesting.
Instead, I've found that meeting people in venues I’d normally occupy anyway helped alleviate certain stresses.
I go to a lot of concerts, and striking up conversations there felt easier—there’s a mutual interest and I don’t have to force myself to meet Travis No-Last-Name at a fancy restaurant.
There are more adult examples later in life, but they’re not nearly as funny or tragic.
Managing mood on a day-to-day basis is an uphill, hellish hike of complete uncertainty, but it’s something I’ve grown to understand.
What I thought was kindness was misinterpreted—a miscommunication that occurs when you don’t really know someone.
Your depression isn’t anyone else’s, but if you are looking to grow a relationship with someone, give them the opportunity to know you first: Warts-and-all comes later if the other person is worthy of your vulnerabilities.
Perhaps introduce the concept with a film or TV show later down the dating line and see how your person reacts. In recent history I’ve learned to use —it’s the most accurate portrayal of depression, at least, my depression, I’ve seen in ages and I’m not alone in thinking so.
After all, there are 18 million people in the United States who suffer from depression, and most of them are probably dating.
There’s no secret to uncover here, other than dating is possible and love rocks.
I once revealed myself to a person with whom I felt an intoxicating chemistry, and after two cinematic days together felt I wasn’t wrong for informing him of my condition.
He quickly ghosted with little more than an “I can’t handle this right now.” It’s nothing to handle, and he is a dumbass, but I don’t blame him for thinking I was offering up a hard pill to swallow.