I cannot imagine having a depressed partner.
Currently, I am in the reverse position. I am the sufferer. The sad one. The tired one. I am the one with mood swings. I don’t have to love myself, even though I should. That should be a rule. But it’s not. Rather, I have to watch my husband love me when I’m struggling. That is as painful, if not more so, than the struggle itself. He wakes up every day and makes the decision to continue to stand by me when, frankly, my behavior makes me very hard to live with.