Alicia's Post

As I have been with Mehdi through his depression, I have seen and learnt many things. My own experience of the illness some years ago has gone some way to helping my understanding but, nonetheless, depression being such a different thing for each person, it has been an experience for us full of twists and turns, a road through steep hills where sometimes we can go along miles of blind bends. You learn to expect the unexpected though, and what that really means in the context of being a couple and having a (gorgeous) little boy. What I can never learn not to be surprised by, though, what always knocks me for six, is the people who ask me, quite unabashed, 'yes but how long are you going to put up with this for?'
Well. Where do I begin?

The 'this' in that question obviously refers to Mehdi's mental illness. I always am silent for a moment after I hear that awful question ; I think there is a moment of shock that Mehdi's brave battle with such a nasty illness, for which I admire him very much, has been casually described by someone who clearly doesn't understand as 'this'.
Once I've taken a moment to inwardly address that initial shock, then the second one sets in. This is the idea that this person expects there to come a time when I will no longer be with my soulmate, the love of my life, because he has depression. When phrased as above, as I find it so often is, the question gets me as well because it isn't an 'if ': it's clearly a 'when ', as if my love is sand in an hourglass that will eventually run out. My answer is always in the vein of 'I will never leave or give up, I love Mehdi, our happiness is bound up in each other and I don't see why our overall life long happiness should be another tragic casualty of his illness.' The person who most frequently asks this question of me being Mehdi's mum, that's usually where I leave it to avoid rocking the boat too much. I've had long conversations with her, just the two of us, trying to help her understand. That sounds a bit patronising, but I don't mean it like that; I just think that if Xavier needed help and I didn't understand why I'd be grateful if someone helped me understand. But these conversations seem to have an effect that quickly wears off.

But I do want to volley a few questions back to her, as I do to anyone else who might pose the 'how long' question (weirdly enough though, my experience is that this is rarely asked by those outside the family) .

First I want to ask what other illness someone could possibly have for it to be acceptable to ask of their spouse how long they will stay; then I want to ask why it's OK to ask this about mental illness. I don't need to ask though, not really. I'm pretty sure I know. I think it's because some people just can't shake the idea deep down, whatever they might say outwardly, that the afflicted person can somehow help it. I think that's been the worst blind bend to come across in the last few years: the one where I realized that when Mehdi, and also we two as a couple and we three as a family most need compassion and a kind smile, we are in fact under scrutiny by some (a minority I must add - we know lots of amazing people)  to see when it will all fall apart completely. But it won't. It's not always easy, some days it's rarely easy, but it won't fall apart. It's hard to explain because I know it may be incredible to some given our situation but we are happy. And when I think of Mehdi, in all honesty the first word that springs to mind is happy. You see, for me it's not related, who he really is and his depression. He is and will always be that joyful person, so in love with life, whom I first met and fell in love with. It's just the depression means you can't always see that person. One day I hope I'll see that person more. But just because I can't see oxygen doesn't make me afraid I won't be able to breathe.