Without religion, spirituality, or even firsthand experience, Sweet Greg shows a kind of acceptance and unconditional love that feels almost like wizardry. He never expects gratitude in the form of joy, ease, or emotional availability.
He accepts—without needing to fully understand—that my depression isn’t about him or the present moment. Depression isn’t anger, a mood, sadness, or ingratitude. It’s brain chemistry. And while it would be easy to misinterpret or judge, he doesn’t.
For me, depression strips away wanting or enjoying much of anything. Not food, not activities, not engagement. I’m most comfortable alone, where no one is counting on me. When I played beach volleyball, people asked why I only liked doubles. I’d joke, half‑serious: “That way I only have one teammate to disappoint.”
Depression makes sustained connection and emotional presence difficult. It’s exhausting—but no longer shameful. I’ve removed myself from people who judged or demanded the impossible, leaving me guilty for taking care of myself or resentful for denying my limits. There was never safety with those who required what they wanted and retaliated when anything impeded them.
Because children of depressed parents can internalize blame, my sons and I talk openly about my mental health—how they don’t cause it, imagine it, or cure it. Life and love are harder when sleeping, waking, eating, and basic functioning take effort.
Sweet Greg gives the best gifts, hugs, help, and space—and demands nothing. Being loved this way is uncomfortable. No matter how lovely he is, my depression often begs for silence and distance. I don’t want disconnection, but I can feel paralyzed and unable. No matter how lovely he is, my depression often begs for silence and distance. I don’t want disconnection, but I can feel paralyzed and unable to engage. Honesty to engage. Honesty helps. He never helps. He never has to wonder if has to wonder if my withdrawal is my withdrawal is about something about something he did or didn’t he did or didn’t do.
Here is a legit snippet of some weekend dialog.
Me: Hey Greg
Him: Yeh?
Me: I just took a bath and I think I could maybe have sex without feeling resentful or violent (laughing — because this is fkn outrageous and only half jokey-and not an unusual exchange)
Him: Seems like a solid yes to me. Let’s go!
Me: Ok, but do everything right and don’t fuck it up.
We laugh and go for it. True Story. Enjoying even the greatest and most favorite of things is challenging 24/7.
