Today, February 14, is Valentine’s Day. I know for some people it’s a reason to buy gifts, go out for dinners, and be romantic. Others are more depressed about not being in a romantic relationship and feeling left out. But since it is a day the world at large takes some time and makes efforts to reflect on the value of romantic love, it is a good an opportunity as any to reflect back on my experiences with romance, dating, and love as a man with schizophrenia.
I am currently unmarried and not in a romantic relationship of any kind. At this point in my life I am content and happy with this setup. This wasn’t always the case though. As a teenage male, I had deeper feelings than many people and often showed my emotions more than many people thought appropriate, especially for a boy. When I was ten years old I broke down crying over a girl I was sweet on who publicly turned me down. It made matters worse in that it was at a school sponsored event attended by my parents. Both my parents made it a point to tell me off in public for crying and being emotional. They told me off again when we got home that night. I never forgot that. It was also the first time in my life I got my heart broken over a girl. Of course it wasn’t the last. Fortunately it did begin to steel my resolve in that yes it hurts getting rejected and shamed in public, but I survived and became stronger because of it.
I had my heart broke again a couple more times in early puberty by being rejected by girls I was interested in spending time with over the next two years. Didn’t sting as bad as the first one but they did make me more resilient with each rejection.
When I was thirteen, I met the girl who would ultimately become my best friend in high school. We hung out a lot, spent time at each other’s houses, traded books and magazines like some kids traded baseball cards, played video games together, and generally did things that friends do together as teenagers. She was home schooled until high school, so she didn’t have the same day to day experiences in junior high I did. I was still being rejected by girls I liked over the next three years, but it got to where I just got numb to it and accepted it as a part of living. Eventually after three years of friendship, I developed romantic feelings for her. We went on several dates, nothing really more formal than just going to dances and the movies. But we were never intimate or even affectionate besides the occasional hugs when one of us was feeling down and depressed. We did kiss a few times. As good as that felt, we both had an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t pursue a romantic relationship. We just valued the friendship too much. It was a short term painful decision but one in the long term turned out to be a brilliant move.
She moved out of state when we were eighteen. I went off to college at age nineteen a more hopeless romantic than ever even though my mental health problems were beginning. I had a couple slight crushes on a couple girls in my freshman class. So much so that I didn’t recognize that there were at least two other girls who were sweet on me. I didn’t realize it at the time. I thought they were just pleasant and decent people to everyone they met. There was a third girl who came flat out and told me she had feelings for me that weren’t typical friendship but of a romantic nature. But I just didn’t feel the same way. So I explained to her as carefully, tactfully, and honestly as I could that I didn’t feel the same way. And I refused to insult her by acting like I had feelings for her when I didn’t just so I could have a steady date. Acting like you have feelings for someone when you don’t just to be in a relationship or not to hurt their feelings is actually a cruel thing to do, especially long term. Turns out that one girl I had feelings for dated my best friend for a few weeks. That put a damper on my feelings for her though I never forgot her.
Near the end of my freshman year, I met my college sweetheart and started my only really hardcore romantic relationship. We had some great times, had some arguments (like all dating couples), broke up and got back together a couple times, over the course of the next two years. I eventually decided to call off the dating relationship shortly before 9/11 because I could tell my mental illness wasn’t going well with the highs and lows of the dating relationship. For the last three years of college I didn’t date at all. I was polite and decent to everyone I met, had lots of acquaintances I could join study groups with or go to sporting events on campus, but I had only a handful of extremely close friends whom I could do and tell everything to.
After I graduated from college I went back home because, like many college graduates, I didn’t have a job lined up by the time I graduated. I felt embarrassed by this at the time but I would eventually find out I wasn’t alone and this was the new normal. After a few months of working a dead end job, I had enough of my childhood hometown. I realized my career was going nowhere, all my old friends moved away, and I had no prospects for friends or a career in my location. I also didn’t have enough money to move away on my own. I talked to my parents about moving to a larger town. I was immediately shot down because they wouldn’t help me if I didn’t have a job offer in another town. And I previously had several job interviews where I was told they would have hired me if I was local. Made me very angry. I couldn’t relocate because I had no job and I was getting rejected for jobs because I didn’t live nearby.
Finally in February 2005, I lied to my parents about a job offer I had in a town that was only a couple hours away from them but had decent opportunities, a state university, and much better health care. I convinced them to help me move and pay for the deposit on a small apartment. It was a cheap place I could live in as I had a few months of living expenses saved up so I could find a job. It was the first time in my entire life I lied for personal gain rather than protection or privacy reasons. I felt guilty that it had to be that way at the time. But I am so glad I did looking back on it years later. Sometimes breaking the rules and disregarding authority has to be done to do the right thing. Life isn’t as black and white and cut and dry as far too many people make it to be.
For the first couple weeks I was out several hours every day giving my resume and filling out applications to places that would pay me enough to meet my living expenses. I also applied to the local college to take master’s degree classes. I had three job offers and a new job within the first three weeks in my new town, compared to only one in my childhood hometown in the several months I was back home. Location is key, my friends. You can have all the qualifications there are, yet if you are in a location that doesn’t suit those skills, you have to relocate. There are no two ways about it.
I still occasionally asked girls out but still got rejected. I finally had a long distance relationship that went quite well for several months. I surprised her by driving to her hometown on Valentine’s Day 2006. I had just gotten offered a decent job after I lost my job at the college because of my bad grades, which were because of my mental illness really beating me up. The surprise was on me because she had to work a double shift that day. I had to wait several hours before she got home. Fortunately her mother took pity on me and kept me company until she got off work. That was a whirlwind of a relationship. We called it off that summer because we could tell it would never evolve into a marriage. We just had different priorities, values, and interests to make a marriage work. It stung at the time but I’m glad it ended before we got married.
In 2008 I qualified for disability insurance. I had my safety net finally. My life settled down and I didn’t have the highs and lows I did in previous years. I also came to the conclusion I was better off without trying to date or be in a relationship. I am definitely not anti marriage or anti love. I just know with my mental illness, my personality, my values, etc. I would make a lousy boyfriend and husband. I would make a lousy father too and I would feel guilty if I had children who became mentally ill because they inherited it from me. As far as being lonely, that’s why I keep in contact with old friends and stay on good terms with family. I have a much better relationship with my mother and father now in my late thirties than I ever did at any point in my life. Like many children I regarded my parents like superheroes when I was six, clueless buffoons when I was twelve, would be fascist dictators at age seventeen I wanted to be free from, wise counsel and backups at age twenty eight, and now more like myself and close friends now that I am age thirty eight. It’s been a long and strange journey these thirty eight years as a human and these twenty plus as being a man with mental illness.
Even though I have had a mental illness since my teenage years, and was eccentric my entire life, I was still interested in romance and the love of a good woman. Sometimes I had that, many times I didn’t. And as I have aged I have made my peace with what went on in the past. I accept that I can’t change what went on. I also wouldn’t change it if I had that power. I am grateful for my experiences with romance, love, and dating while having a mental illness. It taught me much about myself, mental illness, human nature, and life. I wouldn’t trade any of it. At this point in my life I am content to remain unattached. I don’t know if this will always be the case and I don’t have to know. I know not what tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even years from now will bring or how I will develop. I’m just staying open to whatever happens and comes my way.