Why Mental Illness Makes Dating Almost Impossible

How soon should you disclose your mental illness?

This question is something I tackle every time I’m entering into a new relationship. Share your truth too soon and you scare people off. Attempt to mask and you inevitably watch it crumble. Either way, you risk being left alone.

Obviously, everyone faces a delicate balance between putting their best foot forward when dating. We are there to impress. Where there to connect. We are there to have fun.

Like a job interview, it is beneficial to present the best version of ourselves. But like a job, if you want to be happy over the long term, everyone involved needs to be a good fit.

I remember getting into a relationship with someone I thought was amazing. At that time, my mental health was quite good, I was finishing my studies, and moving into full-time work.

I was popular. Confident. And haddent broken down for quite some time. I was also young.

These factors combined, led me to believe that I was healing. Truly ‘over’ the issues of my traumatic past. I couldn’t be more wrong.

Over the year we were together, I got comfortable, and perhaps that feeling of comfort, unlocked dormant issues. Perhaps I was just facing a downturn.

Either way, as my mental health deteriorated, so did my relationship. My confidence dropped. My personality changed - I wasn’t someone different, I was just a different version of me.

We argued. A lot. It eventually became too much and we broke up.

Back to the dating scene. Lesson learnt, or at least I thought so. Countless relationships failed before they even begin, because I was to open in my disclosure about my mental state. Nobody finds a future of mental illness sexy.

This cycle kept repeating itself. Over or under disclosing, leading to breakdown and break up. Quick bursts of passion, bursting into flame. Stifled potential, quashed before it began.

So what is the solution? It is here that we should talk about what a ‘successful relationship’ even looks like. Staying together, isn’t always the best option. Getting married, isn’t the end goal. Neither is having kids. What defines success is unique to each person and each relationship.

I guess, you could broadly define this as happiness, connection, contentment - expressed however each couple expresses it.

This is important to define, because there are many unhappy relationships. People who at best, don’t like one another, or at worst, despise one another to the extent of abuse.

Not all relationship break ups are bad, some are necessary. Similarly, some would benefit therapy, or from opening up into ethical non-monogamy, or from taking a temporary break.

Open and honest communication is key for all relationships, especially those where mental illness is involved.

Great, but how can you get into a relationship whilst avoiding the pitfalls of over or under disclosure?

Unfortunately, there is no easy answer, but a general commitment to self-healing before and during the relationship would be a good start.

People thrive on hope, positive progress, and the willingness to persist, so whilst you shouldn’t come right out and say everything wrong with you on first meeting, you shouldn’t try and hide it either.

Overtime, begin to open up, but in a way that frames it as positively as possible for the future. Share what you struggle to do and what ways you are working on managing or overcoming those struggles.

The good news is that you will attract people like you - at least that’s my experience.

Regardless of if it’s a platonic or romantic connection, I find that often the people who are into me are similar to me.

It isn’t always immediately obvious but we often share similar pasts, similar issues, similar goals and desires, thus if we are both dedicated to self improvement, healing, and growth, we tend to find safety and connection in one another - despite our issues with mental illness.

What’s more, this newfound awareness enables both of us to navigate the tricky space of mental illness and dating. In a way, we kinda realise that everyone has their issues and if we are meant to be together (whatever that means for us) then we are going to have to share our truths. Not immediately but eventually - when we know one another and grow our trust.

This isn’t a perfect system by any means. I have lost relationships over my mental illness. Some people say they understand your limitations and issues, but really only understand when it isn’t impacting them.

They know you will need to bail or have down days and seem sympathetic about it, until you inevitably bail on them or are not able to muster the enthusiasm necessary to make their day special.

Ultimately, this just means that that person isn’t meant to be in your life.

This sucks, because loneliness isn’t easy, but it is better than drama and conflict. Besides, the more I embody my truth and express it outwardly, the more people in my life will realise that this is what my life is like.

It may suck for you that I bailed, but it sucks worse for me. I may bail on you once, but I bail on my life far more.

Beyond that, learning to communicate the disappointment is key. Now I know to not take their emotional reaction personally, or as an attack, but as a natural response. Their disappointment is actually showing me that they care and want to see me. This is touching. And kind. And amazing. It is my job to understand and accept that.

It is their job to internalise that me bailing isn’t an attack or judgement on them, but rather a function of my symptoms flaring up.

If I broke my leg, you would know why I can’t go for that walk we planned. Similarly, if my mind is broken that day, you can perhaps understand why I can’t catch up.

Yes, the language of ‘broken’ isn’t healthy to internalise, but for the sake of analogy, it works.

Ultimately, you need to be with someone that can be there with you for the ups and downs. For me, I was lucky enough to find someone who is as crazy as I am.

I’m not sure how quickly I told her that I need a new brain, but I still have the plush brain toy that she purchased me, promising that was the best she could do.

(She, editing this post would like to highlight that she also has given years of caring, kind, open, listening, and communication - I agree)

Unsurprisingly, I made this person my wife.

Still, I’m surprised that she has stayed with me through my most recent mental health issues - 6 months of medication making things worse is not easy for anyone.

When one of us is struggling we often joke that you ‘chose this life’, because whilst we both weren’t openly and immediately brutality honest about our issues, we weren’t deceptive about them either.

I think that balance is necessary for anyone struggling with mental illness to attain if they want to have a successful long-term relationship.

It’s about an attitude of growing together, rather than stagnating in the rut of our combined illnesses, that sustains us.

Alternatively, dating may simply have to look different for you. Perhaps you need to turn a long-term friendship into a romance. That way you will have an established level of trust and understanding of each other’s strengths and limitations.

It’s not Hollywood, it’s life.

This post was inspired by the book, Augmented Realities: Human Poetry x A.I. Art