Been there; done that. The most recent girl I dated was depressed to the point that she didn't do anything sometimes. It aggravated me, because she was really smart, pretty and talented. I tried to get her to seek help, but she refused. I even offered to pay for the whole thing, because I cared about her, and wanted her to get better. In the end, just like with addicts, you can't help anyone who doesn't want to help themselves.I had a romantic interest of over two and a half years once. I ended it not because she was seeing a therapist, but because she was not (and definitely needed to). At some point, you have to detach yourself from a sinking ship if the person is not interested in doing the difficult work of saving themselves.
Hah. As did I, to no avail. In the wake of the break-up, in one of the few torturous post-parting sobbing, pleading conversations over the phone, she told me that no matter what, dating me was the best thing that happened because she was going to see a doctor, and even if I didn't get back together with her, she was going to see one anyway, and she was finally committed to taking care of herself. Months later I ran into her on the street. Typical awkward ex meeting. I asked her how she was and did she see that doctor. I think you already know what the answer to that question was. I walked away relieved, because it absolutely validated my choice. Even at her darkest, lowest point, I had zero ability to affect whether or not she sought help. Even the destruction of our relationship wasn't enough, and the most she would do is offer lip service. Though I was relieved, I took no pleasure in her predicament. It saddened me greatly, and to this day I find myself really hoping that she's out there somewhere doin alright. I'll not be there to find out though. Ever. And I'm totally cool with that.I even offered to pay for the whole thing,