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If there’s one thing I know about depression, though, it’s that it’s devoid of logic, and you can feel your lowest and your highest all at once.) My dating history is checkered, to say the least.

I'm 5-foot-5, slim, with brown hair and brown eyes. I suffer from mental illness.” Finally verging on being over a long-term, on-and-off relationship, I am both excited and terrified at the prospect of a new one.On one hand, I am the most self-confident I have ever been.On the other hand, the tangle of depression, anxiety, OCD, and borderline personality disorder in my head came fairly close to talking me into a swan dive off of a fifth-floor Paris balcony last week.(If you’ve never suffered from depression, it might sound nonsensical that I would do this at my most self-confident.And as I know from dating a fellow depressive, I ironically have little patience for it. I feel time running out for a family, adding a charming dimension of desperation.

All I can do is hope for the best, gingerly feel my way along, constantly remind myself to slow down and breathe, and not hurl myself headlong at the first half-decent man I meet.

Therapists are trained not to tell you exactly what to do, no matter how much I ask.

I'm sure that self-help books are very helpful for some people, but I never make it much past the table of contents.

I come with more worse than most people, and it’s only fair that I’m honest about that.

My mother thinks I should keep my mouth shut as long as possible.

Possibly the worst effect my illness has on relationships is my inability to let go of something that is clearly not working. Many people will not be interested in dealing with my illogical side, and it’s not their fault or mine. In , Martin Amis wrote: “Have you ever stayed in a place where you wanted someone who didn't want you?