I decided to go for therapy about six months into my relationship (six months prior to moving to the United Kingdom). It all started when my then girlfriend (referred as X later) felt I disrespected her by agreeing with my sister’s opinion on Bitcoin, which at the time was at a high. My first session ended with a diagnosis of chronic low-grade depression that had slowly been increasing over the course of med school. I was also prescribed medication to control my depression and anxiety. When I told X about my diagnosis and therapy, she was extremely supportive. That made me happy. A week later, on my way for my next session, I called X who told me about the time she took a friend to a psychiatrist. She told me how she made an appointment for them both to show solidarity with her friend. I was very happy to hear this, but something stuck out to me. X kept saying, “…she was diagnosed with depression, but nothing is wrong with me”. She repeated this at least three times. Does having depression mean something is wrong with me? I felt attacked. As soon as I arrived for my session, I told my therapist, and we took it from there. 

Over the next few weeks, my stressors became clear. At the risk of oversimplifying, were different castes, and pressure of commitment: X wanted to get engaged, however, I had been very clear from the start that, (a) I was going to pursue higher studies abroad, and (b) I will not get engaged or married prior to completing my studies and paying off a loan that I will be taking out to pursue my studies. The psychiatrist, albeit reluctantly, told me to put the relationship on a hold for at least six months. A very difficult decision for me to take and I personally took about two weeks contemplating what to do. Finally, X and I had a very serious conversation about the relationship. I was not happy to bring it up at the time as I had to go out to visit relatives. I told her that we needed a break as it was affecting my mental health adversely. She abused me and ended the conversation. The next day, X sent me several messages where she accused me of lying about my diagnosis and therapy, called my parents “dictators”, and accused me of sexually assaulting her (she apologised three months later). 

The thing about depression is that it makes you forget who you are as a person. Depression made me forget my core self. What about love? Depression never stopped me from loving me. However, without support and simple faith, I feel unlovable. My self-love has evolved, and I believe that I am liked as a friend by most, but I don’t believe that someone can love me as a partner. Two years on, I hope for love but do not expect to find it.