Depression dating married man
When your spouse cheats on you, your brain experiences conflict as the neuronal network structure responsible for feelings of trust and love towards your partner can no longer be maintained (just as a drug addict who no longer receives drugs on a regular basis experiences withdrawal symptoms).“The brain then has to re-adjust the neuronal network structure to meet the demands of the current situation.This process, however, can be very stressful and if not timely addressed may result into major depression,” she warns.Blantyre-based extension worker Naomi Shaba observes that the best one can hope for from a relationship with a married person are secret meetings, celebrating special events alone and many cancelled dates, to mention a few.Shaba explains: “You only meet secretly because he or she spins you the line that they do not want their partner to find out about your relationship until the time is right.Then I leaned in and kissed him, pulling him towards me.
Consumed with thoughts of him, when we weren’t together I was either lost in memories, reliving every detail of every second with him, or longing for him, trying to figure out the next time we could see each other.
I didn’t feel like pretending either; I could pretend for years, wanting something more but subsisting on the pretense of a friendship with a subtext of sexual attraction, living indefinitely in an unfulfilling fantasy. Sitting across from him, he pressed his leg into mine under the table. “I should tell you,” I confessed, propping my elbows on the table and leaning forward, “I have this pattern with unavailable men.” I told him about the guy I had a fling with who lived with his girlfriend, and my ex I couldn’t get over, who was married when I met him.
We’d had a flirtation for a couple of months before his marriage dissolved, and started dating as soon as he got separated.
“You know everything about me and I don’t know anything about you,” I said, because he’d read my writing, so he knew all about my childhood traumas, bad breakups, and struggles with depression, anxiety, and OCD. We’d only just met, but we could already tell each other everything about ourselves.
“The balance is off,” I said, swirling a French fry in ketchup. Lunch lasted for three hours and turned into coffee at a café a few blocks away, and then a lingering walk through the Manhattan streets as the sun warmed us on that bright fall day.
“Tell me something personal about you.” “I’m sober,” he said. After I left David I was in a daze, dizzy from our effortless afternoon together.