So far, this binge of Citalopram (I guess its a binge if its daily use) has altered my mood in so much as I can still breathe but also I'm learning to try to attempt to see all things with relative clarity without employing my usual negative spin which by the way, was inherited from or at the very least, taught to me by Harry. (and take breath)
Correction...NOTICE things positively rather than always seeing things negatively.
Most of those pesky side effects have waned but I still gag in the mornings, eat very little, can't form enough spit to even lob onto the shoe of Stephan Harper should he ever come for tea, suffer gut cramps, night sweats and awesome NOT head-videos that are all but truth.
Fortunately there is no Agoraphobia in my diagnosis although this wonder drug would apparently help with that too. Incidentally, that's just a big name from the Greek AYOPA meaning Large Public Square and OOBIA meaning phobia. This disorder makes it very difficult to be in public in big places. Often, this condition must be ruled out in diagnosis because many of those of us that are depressed often want to hide from other humans for a variety of reasons.
Think about it...if you ever noticed an adult man standing in the middle of a grassy park crying ,would your first thought be "I best rush over and comfort this stranger who is in an obvious time of sadness or mental anguish " I wager your answer is an unconditional NO. That may be just what he needs...or sadly the opposite of what he wants!
So, for many of us, the blinds are drawn, the bed covers are up to our chin and the cat goes hungry while family and distance friends try and cope with whatever the hell is going on inside your brain. Catch is that you may never even know what it is that's hurting your head.
All this to say that fortunately I'm NOT afflicted with a fear of people or feel the need to hide and starve the cat. Quite the opposite really. I experience terrible dread when it comes to being alone for large chunks of time. This, by the way, is a far cry from "being on my own" which on occasion I quite like.
Depression is a bugger! You ( I ) don't want a crowd of people patting my head "helping me" but at the same time I long for a text. Text is good in so much as I can control the interaction which I couldn't do if you actually phoned me. Clever as well as sly ain't I? Some may diagnosis this as Chickenshit from the Greek KOTOTTOUAU and OKATA (my apologies for not having the correct alphabet at hand)
Driving truck around Vancouver is good therapy for me. I listen to chat radio, shout at God and the Universe, engage venders if and only if I want to and I even enjoy the freedom to pull in and walk around the block to breathe if I need to.
The grouphome is another animal altogether.
In this house where the clients are 13-18 years old, male and female, I must push my emotions and issues to the back burner and give these ones my 100% attention and professionalism. So far, so great.
To think at 51 I'm suffering with what many of our youth of the day are also suffering with.
Snag is, they haven't the resources or in many cases the forthwith or maturity to seek out help let alone understand that something may be amiss.
I think it best that I reserve any further comment about this "industry"
So there it is in a nutshell (pun intended)
If you happen to have the privilege to know that a friend/family member is suffering depression, reach out to them GENTLY if only to remind them that they're valued and alive and that you're happy that they're still standing on this planet with you. Its a good planet. There are billions of people standing on it and we only know a few.