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I was very depressed because I was thinking a lot about my girlfriend Barbara who died last November after enduring 31 years with a birth defect that eventually claimed her life. Technically, she was my fiancée as I had gotten her a ring and vowed to marry her. However, she was the one who really put the pressure on to do this. I was more afraid of breaking her heart than telling her I couldn’t marry her due to her disability.

Barbara and I were good friends and we shared many personal experiences with each other. I tried to minimize her disability as much as I could though her kidneys were so enlarged she looked as if she were pregnant. She had low self-esteem about her deformity and often called it “hideous.” I would try to console her as much as I could, and there were times where I may have said things about it that upset her, although I didn’t intend to.

I met Barbara at Methodist Hospital on March of last year. Both of us were in the psychiatric unit and we both had suicidal tendencies. I had been thinking about my so- called failures in life (failing out of SUNY Binghamton, being rejected by Dartmouth, Brown, University of Pennsylvania, etc.) and my bad work experiences after college.

When I first saw Barbara at the hospital, I was a little repulsed. She would yell and curse. After a couple of days I sat at her table for lunch and she asked me if I was Jewish. I said yes and we became acquainted. We learned about each other’s families and life experiences. She told me she that was born in Israel and that her family was Sephardic (I’m Ashkenazi). She told me about her struggles growing up in America after arriving at the age of 10. Kids called her names like “the exorcist.” I have been called a nerd and a geek growing up and could relate to her pain.

Sure, kids can be cruel, but the goal is to overcome the insults and to successfully reach your potential as the psychologist Abraham Maslow mentioned in his studies.

The day before I was discharged, Barbara and I exchanged phone numbers and she soon called me after her discharge a day later. We had a nice conversation on the phone and soon arranged to meet again and to communicate via the Internet.

I was really enjoying her company, but I didn’t realize her intentions were to get intimate and to get married. I was enjoying our platonic relationship with its potential for romance. She, on the other hand, had greater things in mind.

We dated using our meager SSI earnings and I had limited use of my mother’s car to drive her around. Somehow our relationship grew. We became close physically and emotionally, and I eventually lost my virginity with her. During the summer months I saw Barbara everyday.

By September, I began working full-time at a telemarketing company, which meant less time to see her. Still, we found time for each other and finally got engaged to marry. I was nervous about that. I loved her, but my love was mostly compassion and empathy for her situation. It was hard for me to accept her physical deformity. I wanted her to feel happy that she was getting married and that her life had a purpose.

My parents were against the relationship from the start. This got me upset although I could understand their lack of approval. I knew that if I were to marry Barbara, I wasn’t going to have my parents’ approval, which felt like a dead-end street.

Barbara knew my mother was possessive of me and felt frustrated by her. Both my mother and Barbara respected each other, but my mother distanced herself from Barbara.

To make a long story short, Barbara had a significant impact on my life and the way I approach it now. I no longer take life for granted and I try to face life’s challenges that come along the way.

I would like to get a job in the journalism field or perhaps in teaching. I am feeling a little more confident to become more independent of my parents, although it is a gradual process. I don’t think anyone wants to feel abandoned and totally free. People need to be interdependent.