Depression, Part II

Have you talked to the counselor about the pent-up anger?

The only thing I can suggest is going for a walk, for run; lift weights, go to the gym or buy a punching bag and go to town.

 

I was picked on unmercifully during elementary school and middle school and high school -- for things I could control and others I couldn't. During sixth and seventh grade, I began to be like one of those kids to try and fit in with the crowd, but thought, "Why?"

We used to make fun of this poor-- monetarily poor -- kid and we'd done it since I could remember. His last name was Pugh -- no, not Dan Patrick -- and it didn't look like he bathed; he was just a weird dude. For a while, I was always stirring things around to ignite the attacks of this kid. Then, in eighth grade, we had wood shop together. The class had to put together these wooden cars that ran on Co2 cartridges. We were all supposed to take our cars home to paint them, but Pugh didn't have the means to do so. He didn't mention it too loudly, but I heard it. With my dad having all the equipments in his shop, I told him not to worry about a thing. I took his car home with me, sanded it, painted it and brought it back to him in the morning.

I never apologized to him for poking fun at him all those years, although I wish I had, but I promised myself I'd make a conscious effort to change my ways. And I think I've done that. I still rip my friends to no end, but that's expected. But I always try to treat those I don't know with respect, and a large part of that is because of how I made that kid feel for so many years.

 

No offense taken, HH. I'm usually not the preachy-type, but I figured it was worth a shot. The only other thing I can think of is keep yourself busy. A four-time vet of the operating room table myself, I know it's tough to do, but if there's anything at all you can do to occupy your mind, whether it's playing with the kids, doing stuff around the house/yard, taking up a hobby, do it. All those bad thoughts rush into your head when you're doing nothing.

 

That's maybe the kindest and most poignant thing I've ever read on this board. Seriously.

 

I guess the biggest thing I learned tonight is that no matter how tough on the outside a woman is, you still shouldn't treat her like "one of the guys" unless she says it's OK. Good lord, it hurt me to see her hurt that much. Almost made me want to take an extra dosage of the happy pills.

 

I started going for walks about four weeks ago -- the day my mother died.

I bought a punching bag two months ago and have been at it constantly. The only (bad) thing is now, in addition to my punching skills, I have honed up on my kicking skills.

And the doc told me to lay off the weights (I have a bench and freeweights, along with a curl bar) because of the high blood pressure. I quit the HBP med because I couldn't afford it (I get the antidepressant as samples).

 

Even if she says it's okay, don't treat your girl like you'd treat your buddies. It's a chemistry experiment that's doomed to blow up in your mug if you do.

 

First of all, I am sorry to hear about your mother's passing. If ever you need to talk, please PM me.

Now that your wife is back working, is there any chance you can get on her health insurance? Maybe they'll be able to pay for the meds? The other thing I can suggest is freelancing. If you are able to land fairly regular work, maybe you'll be able to pay for the meds.

 

Thank you, sir. Looking back on my younger days, there are so many points where I'd either kill to redo or just make amends for the awful or stupid things I did. Everyone has those moments, I'm sure. It just sucks that we have to fuck with some kids to learn what not to do.

 

Just got on her insurance at start of the month. It's WAY more than mine was, and the co-pay is now $25 instead of $15. And antidepressants are expensive little motherfuckers.

BTW, got served with papers on Wednesday. The first pharmacy we used sent to collections, which sent to an attorney, which is sending us to court next month because we own $4,000 or so. And that doesn't count the surgeon, anasteseologist (I'm not even going to try to spell that one), and hospital stay for said surgery, all which are in separate collections.

 

I know what you mean, Mike. Kids are kids. We're pretty much guaranteed to be shitheads at some point.

I put up with my share of bullying as a kid and I know I was a dick to some kids who didn't deserve it just because I was taking out my aggression on someone else. I hate myself for it too.

 

I'm not sure there's a reason to hate yourself for something you did a lifetime ago. The only thing you can do is learn your lesson and try to be a better person.

It's easier said than done, though.