Talking to my boyfriend late at night on the phone is always unsettling. He’s struggling with depression, whether it’s situational or clinical I don’t know, anxiety, and poor self esteem. To hear him tell me the way he feels, how hard it is for him to go through a day, the problems he’s having with his friends, or at work, hurts. It hurts to hear the strain in his voice, the exhaustion, the frustration, the anger, and the sadness.

He is all sunshine and laughter with me, he tells me it’s because he forgets everything when he’s around me. He is blissful in my presence. But once he leaves and it’s back home, the worries and the depression sweep over him, they overtake his mind and cause him nothing but grief.

He calls me. He has nobody else to call, he spills it all out, hoping I can somehow offer insight and perspective. I try my damndest to help him, I offer advice and suggestions, which are inevitably shot down. He finds a reason why that suggestion won’t work, why he can’t see a therapist, why he doesn’t want to find a job that he might not feel so miserable at, why he won’t take a class… It’s frustrating, his negativity. What is more frustrating is his lack of action. He is so depressed, yet won’t move a muscle to change it.

And it kills me to see his decline, knowing he has the power to change, but the lack of will to go through with it–and knowing I can’t give him that will. My heart drops and bursts into flames, my insides turn out and my head fills to the brim with tears. I want the world for him, I see the possibilities he possesses, and I fear he’ll never live up to them. I know the good he has inside him, how honest of a man he is. I see his strength, his wisdom, his intelligence, and I see how he doesn’t see any of these things. All he sees is weakness, stupidity, laziness, and a bleak future.

I can’t fix him. I can love him, I can push him to make changes, I can give him encouragement, but I can’t fix him. That’s what rots my heart.