I'm on medication. I'm on medication because I've been professionally diagnosed "in a state of general unhappiness or despondency" Apparently I'm depressed, which isn't a total surprise to my family.
Synonyms: sad, unhappy, miserable, dejected, gloomy, glum, melancholy, disconsolate, downhearted, downcast, down, despondent, dispirited, low, heavy-hearted, morose, dismal, desolate...you follow how I'm drifting, but yes, that's me for a few years now. ( not complete shite as I walked the planet mind you. But not, as mum would say; "quite the ticket" )
You know, if you met me and hung out with me, you'd like me. It seems that I hide most emotions well. I'm pretty easy to get on with and strangers that I chat with don't ever seem to be annoyed or put off.
I have a sense of humour, I help people too a fault...these could be coping mechanisms that I will certainly re-evaluate as time creeps on.
Alcohol has been abused too. Pity...I love a good ale. Self medication comes in all forms. How can I justify thee, let me count the ways...
Like I mentioned, I'm a giggle to be around...but YOU don't live with me!
The saying goes that you hurt the ones you love...well, I LOVE MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER!
I'll write more about that in future episodes kids, stay tuned.
Spending time with a therapist weekly and ingesting Citalopram daily, I'm told...will help me immensely. I'm banking on those words spoken to me by the Professionals. Since they're professionals, I'll take those words as a promise. I don't promise lightly because I know what "a complete and utter fuck up I am"
Might be the coward's way out. Promise little, they expect less. (work on that one Spoke ya chickenshit bastard)
I'd like to write about my Citalopram side effects before the hoped-for benefits. I've been trained by Harry in the negative you see. I was an A student! Thorn before the rose 101.
Side effects so far after 5 days: diarrhoea, dry mouth, frequent urination, gagging, dry heaves, light sensitivity, itching, fog head, drowsy, bloody nose, yawning, vivid dreams, loss of appetite, delayed physical response, metallic mouth and suicidal ideation.
Caveat: "Most people who undergo suicidal ideation do not go on to make suicide attempts, but it is considered a risk factor" Thanx to wikipedia I think.
My agony and discomfort pales compared to the misery I've caused, I'll carry on doping and hope the break-in period springs forth fruitful loveliness.
Benefits? That professional promise. THESE PILLS WILL HELP YOU SORT OUT YOUR EMOTIONS.
I guess in layman's terms it means that I'll begin to pay more attention to the people and things that MATTER MOST TO ME rather than putting my own selfish ass first and foremost regardless of the carnage mangled in my wake.
I have any friends I need to call.
It means that I will no longer cry for no apparent reason when I'm alone.
It means that I will no longer wear a heavy dread day after day after day.
It means that I will be able to function whether you text me or not.
If you've looked at previous blogs, you know that I chat with homeless friends.
The other day I found myself chatting with my friends Gerald, who lives in the old bear pen in the park and Ray who lives in a shitty SRO, about depression.
They're NOT depressed, I am! WTF?
Life isn't always what we declare it to be from an outside observation.
Ray and Gerald are alcoholics, I'm depressed.
I'm a work in progress. A torn canvas hoping desperately to woo the Artist to create a masterpiece upon my very soul.
The easel is in a shambles and can hardly bear weight. The canvas is torn and faded yellow. The light is ever so dim.
I'm a work in progress. The Sun will rise and burst through the window so the Artist can create a masterpiece.
I pray my family will line up to look at it.