Depression, Part II

Three months of Mitrazapine helped me out a lot. My doctor, however, didn't like to call it 'depression.' He preferred the term 'anxiety.'

 

Well, there is a difference, although some of the symptoms may be the same. Maybe he wanted to be specific, didn't want you calling it what it wasn't. He probably had his reasons.

 

Oh Buck-Dub, I know. But I was flat-out depressed. No doubt about it.
Beyond that, yes, HB, this is the time of year it resurfaces. I have felt the black clouds trying to take over a few times already as December draws nearer.

 

I'm sorry to hear that the storm clouds are gathering, Flash.

Just know that you have friends here and they're always willing to listen.

 

Christmas-New Years and my birthday get me every year and have for the last several. Hopefully this'll be the year that stops, but I say it every December.

 

Don't know what this falls under, but I have to saw the holidays get to me a bit. I was watching the Thanksgiving Day parade yesterday and started crying. It was mostly because of those years when my dad took my sister and me to the parade and those days are long gone. He died in 92 and obviously things have never been the same around the holidays. It's tough around this time of the year for people who have lost loved ones, but you get by because of the people you have around you now.

 

This is usually the most depressing time of year for me.

This year, you can square the depression -- maybe even cube it, for I have been unemployed going on four months now, with no hope in sight.

We've always struggled -- first, we struggled while my wife got her degrees, knowing that the present sacrifice would turn out good in the long run. After getting her AA, then BS, she began a great job as a kindergarten teacher.

But work for me was getting worse. The new SE was Satan incarnate (I am not exaggerating, either). He is the biggest piece of shit I have ever laid eyes on.

I finally had enough of his grade-school bullshit and quit at the end of July. The ME didn't (and still doesn't) have the guts to do anything about this bullying, egotistical, insecure, temperamental, lazy piece of shit.

The sports section now looks like shit. High school papers look better. This guy works maybe 30 hours a week while making the "hourlies" work most of his beat for him. He removed nearly every graphic we had been using, and runs almost no art on the inside. It really looks like crap. The coaches and administrators, along with most of the people in the community, can't stand the guy and hate the paper now. Not enough, though, to get anyone to do anything about it.

I've applied and had phone interviews in three states. Been offered one decent job and a couple of jobs where I would be making less than I was nine years ago right out of college. Forget finding anything near here -- it's literally the middle of nowhere.

So you're damn right I'm depressed. I have, literally, no hope. I had hope in God, but that has been shot all to hell. I had hope in my talent and experience, but that and $1.49 will get me a cup of coffee at Denny's.

I keep thinking of my kids, and how hard it was for me growing up without a father. I used to think that was enough, but now I don't know.

The only thing I do know is that if I do anything stupid, I sure as hell am taking someone with me.

 

I'm glad we have a thread like this. I wish the gf would take a look at this once in a while. She has a lot of anxiety issues and was once a borderline anorexic. She's healthy now, but still has those issues & deep insecurities running inside her. Tonight, I was goofing on her & made an asinine comment, which set her off completely. I'll spare you 99% of the details, but one of the fears she mentioned was that other people that she works with (we both have P/T jobs at a YMCA) mention that I'm a jerk/asshole. I know, a stunner for all of you.

My question is this: has anyone who was constantly picked on in their youth sometimes turn into those same jerks that tormented you before? Her comment scared me, along with her suffering through a panic attack, and I don't want to be the type of person that inflicts the same kind of damage that sent me into depression all those years ago. Anyone else in a similar situation?

 

HH, man, please don't take yourself or someone else out.

Please go to a therapist. Talk to them about your feelings. Get help.

Your family needs you.

Best wishes,

HB

 

I catch myself acting like a bully sometimes. Not with my kids -- they are the apples of my eyes -- but I tease my wife too much, and I used to have big problems with animals.

I have been able to stay out of fights as an adult, but I am scared that if I do go off on someone physically that I might kill them. I'm only 5-8, but have enough knowledge and experience of chokes and submissions that I fear I wouldn't be able to stop because of so much pent-up anger.

And in case you're wondering, yes, I have a counselor and yes, I am on an antidepressant (Cymbalta).

 

Easy there, man. Have faith in Him. Heck, I'm starting to think that since I stopped going to church, I've developed this side of me I don't like. The main thing is this: the best things in life are always the toughest to attain. I waited nearly three years to get my first job interview out of college, and that probably had to do with knowing someone at the place I was applying. It sucks and it's painful, but you have to fight through it. Just keep on thinking about all the great times you're going to have raising your children into wonderful people & how happy you'll be with your wife. Just use that old sports cliche: take it one day at a time. If you look too far ahead, you'll trip over your own feet.

PS - I'm also seeing a therapist & am on two pills: sertraline (generic form of Zoloft) and Provigil. It's a form of monafidil to assist with sleep problems, but it's also supposed to help with focus & mild forms of ADD.

 

I'm not trying to be a dick -- I'm really not -- but don't get me started on "church" and "faith" and "trust" and any other bullshit. I've tried it. I've cried myself to sleep praying. I've begged God to help and I've begged Him to let me die, and everything in between.

I was on my back for eight weeks after surgery and not one of my "friends" from church called or came by to see me. And when I stopped showing up for church for weeks at a time, I got the same kindness.