Names have been changed.

So my boyfriend of three years, Dylan, whom I met when I was 14 and he was 18, this sweet guy who has been with me through my traumatic life change of losing my family and entering foster care—I broke up with him. And I have no idea if I did the right thing.

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Our relationship started with a MySpace friend request through a mutual friend. Dylan and I started Instant Messaging and I loved talking to him. He seemed so witty and funny and a great conversationalist.

After some weeks, he decided to give me his phone number. I still remember how he gave it to me:

“In case you need somebody to talk to,” he said.

I called him a couple of days later and got his voicemail. It was such a turn off; he sounded like a groggy grown man. I hung up quickly and told myself I would not call him again.

But Dylan seemed so cool that I changed my mind and called him back. My excitement guided the nervous butterflies through my body. The phone was ringing.

“Hello?” he said.

It was him and he didn’t sound groggy and scary anymore! He just sounded like a normal guy with a mature voice. I smiled wildly and said, “Hi Dylan.”

The conversation had a nice flow, with no awkward silences. He kept me laughing. We continued chatting online and on the phone for about four months, and then we decided to start dating.

We Grew Closer

One of the things that helped our relationship grow and deepen was the way we found comfort in each other because the other parts of our lives weren’t smooth sailing. We felt similar anxiety about school and family situations. I always complained about how my mother violated my privacy and showed me zero respect by doing things like recording my phone conversations. Dylan was a great listener and constantly made me feel relieved about the things that stressed me.

Something else that brought us closer was that, a month before we became a couple, Dylan was diagnosed with a bad heart condition. He had to miss lots of school because of medical appointments, so that set him back and he was put on academic probation. It frightened us both tremendously; up until then, neither of us had ever dealt with something life-threatening.

Dylan told me his family didn’t express love for him, or if they did, it was always with a “but.” I was the first and only person who expressed genuine and frequent concern for him, so he clung to me when he found out about his heart condition. His health problems made me feel for him even more. Being there for him made me feel good.

At the same time, I began to realize that Dylan’s heart condition wasn’t his only struggle. He suffered from chronic depression. I had no idea in the beginning how much this would affect our relationship.

We bonded by talking about how our pasts influenced us and consoled one another with humor and affection. We brought out each other’s “inner child” and played silly games, cracked corny jokes. Dylan and I just vibed.

We had a lot in common: music, and views on everything from how to cure global warming and how the dinosaurs died to how we wanted to build a huge “Help and Revive” center for the city’s homeless.

Over time, we began talking about our futures together—I wanted to live in a brownstone in downtown Brooklyn, while he wanted to live in a three-story house that just had to have an attic, and we’d playfully argue about how we had to compromise on that.

So there I had it. Age 15, and a plan to marry him some day. Here and there I thought, “Can we really last?” which set off distant worries about how we’d face a lot of stress in the future if things didn’t work out.

Signs of Trouble

By the time I was 16, my own family situation had worsened, but I was reassured by my loving relationship with Dylan. When my sister, mother, and I were torn apart from each other and I entered foster care, Dylan was still there, and I felt sure he was always going to be there.

But over time, Dylan’s depression started to crowd out the good things in our relationship. The first time I saw a sign of trouble is when Dylan was diagnosed with the heart condition. After that, he wasn’t allowed to exercise because it put too much stress on his heart. He was in and out of the hospital, and worried that he could die. He became extremely depressed, which caused him to be frequently mopey, monotone, and to eat unhealthily. He would even twitch and have really bad chest pains when he stressed.

I started to stress out too, because I feared for his health. But early on, it didn’t drive me away from him because I was pretty caring and open-minded, just as he was for me. I understood that he needed someone to be there for him, so I was. However, his stress only got worse. Over time, I came to see that his depression was far more serious than I’d first realized, and that it was about more than just his health problems. Dylan had very low self-esteem and didn’t love himself the way he should.

I had empathy for him. I, too, often felt misunderstood and like people weren’t willing to tolerate me. I didn’t want to be like those uncaring people, because they didn’t give me a chance to show what a good person I was. Therefore, I was open with Dylan and even when he was very depressed, I listened and always recommended that he see a therapist. (I am glad to say that he is seeing one now.)

Soul Searching

But this past year as I prepared myself for the next big transition in my life—going to college—I started doing some serious soul-searching about our relationship. I realized that for three years nothing had changed with his depression. Nothing I did seemed to make a difference.

He was too wrapped around the idea that there was no way someone could help him. It was painful to watch the one I loved suffer, and because he was too stubborn to seek help, sometimes I felt hopeless. It felt like it was only he and I handling all these heavy things on our own and his depression was getting worse. I began to have doubts that I could handle it.

Not only that, but our relationship got a little stale. With school, work, and stress, we only had time to say goodnight on the phone when our days ended, and I was even too tired to do that. Our relationship lacked the life it once had.

image by Erika Faye Burke

All of this together was too much. Our conversations weren’t positive anymore. They were dreary. I’d call him cheerfully and Dylan’s reply would sound, again, monotone and dark. It brought me right down and I found myself becoming less and less tolerant of it. I would tell him I was tired of him complaining about something almost every time we were on the phone. He would angrily answer back saying that he had a lot to handle and we’d go back and forth like that.

I Wanted New Experiences

I felt like I was being pulled in two emotional directions. I felt happy about the insight that Dylan had to offer me, the fun I had with him (at times), the sincere love he gave me, and the secure feeling that I was never going to lose him. I was also happy for his helpful advice and the care he showed about the decisions that affected my life, like college. Yet, more and more, the depression overwhelmed all of this happiness.

Even so, I felt that it was my duty to stick to our plan of making it work and getting married no matter what. But the obligation I felt toward him frustrated me. I began to think about what my heart had desired for a long time, something I’d never voiced out loud: new experiences with other people.

I just wanted to break out of our shell and be free! I didn’t want to feel tied down. I wanted to have fun and feel like a typical teenager. I longed to branch out and experience new people.

The Breakup Call

Finally, I decided to take a chance to break free. I wanted to quickly get the pain over with because it was too uncomfortable to have these feelings. So while I was on my way to Represent one day, I called him. I wanted to get it over with fast, so right away I told him, “I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

He was in shock and denial, but the more I repeated it and explained my reasoning, the more he understood how serious I was.

“Your depression really takes a toll on me, Dylan, plus I really feel like I should allow myself to grow with other people, too.”

It was extremely difficult. Not only did it hurt him hearing me say it, but it hurt me.

I told him I would call him later. He couldn’t believe what I had done: Break up with him in a matter of about 10 minutes, and then try to hang up. I just had to get the pressure off of my chest. I didn’t think I could take any more right then. Dylan cried hysterically. It was too emotional.

It’s Still Hard

So now that I’ve been broken up with him for a month, I am not responsible for him, right? Wrong. We still speak every day because he calls and texts me and we still see each other from time to time. Every morning he sends me sweet text messages of fantasy things, like what he’s going to make me for breakfast when we begin living together.

I don’t like it. I know Dylan does it so that I won’t forget about him. It’s overwhelming because I am trying to distance myself from him a little bit and he’s not allowing me to do it easily.

I feel like I am still obligated to him. Dylan is my best friend who probably understands me more than I understand myself in some ways. I’ve only sunk him deeper into his depression by breaking up with him. He is having more seizures and panic attacks, and now he’s even resorted to cutting, smoking, drinking, and suicide attempts. He always smoked and drank now and then, but the cutting and suicide attempts are new.

I know he’s hurting, but I think he’s also being manipulative, using that as a tactic to make me feel bad and come back. Recently, I was on the phone with him and he was again telling me how he feels about our breakup. I told Dylan that I love him and that we’d talk later because I had to get off the phone. He was begging me to stay on, and I had to reinforce that I knew he was sad but I really had to do my homework. He said, “OK fine, I’m just gonna go cut myself,” and hung up.

This isn’t fair. I should not have to go through something like this and I certainly wasn’t ready for it at 17. I break up with Dylan and have to worry that he might die: It suffocates my heart.

I second-guess myself a lot now. I don’t know what I want. On one hand, I question why I would break up with this awesome guy, the person who I love the most in this world. I wonder if I’m leaving a perfectly good relationship for probably a whole bunch of crappy ones, just so I can experience different things.

Carefree

I guess I just want to know what it feels like to be carefree, the way other teenagers seem to be, and I feel like my time is running out. I want to have the really cool experiences that you can only have as a teen. So far I have had some, and some of them have been with Dylan. But with Dylan, I cannot be carefree. I am constantly worrying about him.

At the same time, it’s so difficult to distance myself from him; it feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I love him too much, yet I still want to have new experiences with other people. From the age of 14 to my death, should I stay with one person, without any kind of experiences with anyone else? I don’t know about that.

Trade-offs

Because I wasn’t able to handle the stress on my own, I resorted to my therapist.

“I’m so confused,” I cried to her. “Dylan is putting up such good arguments as to why I should take him back… and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Imani, it’s OK to sit with your emotions. This is a breakup. It’s going to be painful and difficult. I know sitting with your emotions is uncomfortable and you get more comfort out of making a decision, but you don’t have to make a decision right now.” I understood and agreed with her advice, but I still cried and felt horrible.

The only thing I’m getting out of this breakup so far is that I can dance freely with people at parties and talk to other guys without putting restrictions on my conversations. Big whoop. But I am at least starting to see long-term benefits that will come out of my decision.

It’s like the concept of opportunity costs and trade-offs in economics. My economics textbook says, “life is full of trade-offs.” The definition of trade-offs is when more of one valuable thing means less of another. In my case, my relationship with Dylan is extremely valuable, especially since I built a strong foundation and bond with him.

Seeing other people has an opportunity cost, and that cost would be Dylan. However, seeing other people also brings me many new experiences.

I know that when I get to college I will be miserable if I’m so focused on Dylan and not free to explore relationships with other people. Sometimes you just have to do some things for you, even if it means that you are negatively affecting someone else by doing it. Most of the time, something has to be lost in order for something important to be gained.