So my psychiatrist left me a voice mail yesterday wondering if my recurrence of symptoms was due to the increase in Wellbutrin he did over a month ago. I'm not thinking that is it, but he wants me to try a different form of it to see if that helps. I'm not thinking that is the issue, but I guess I will go with it for now.
I'm doing a little better than I was. I have gotten some sleep the past couple of nights, but I still am catching myself getting irritated easily. I really hate that. I am not an irritable and angry person. I used to be a go-with-the-flow, happy-go-lucky type of guy, but with this depression that has gone away.
Depression and anxiety hit people in different ways. I am sure there are some people out there that would be able to take what I am going through in stride. I also think, however, the vast majority of people if they had the same situation would develop major depression. I have to believe that this didn't happen because I am weak. That is one of the biggest struggles I think a guy with depression has. Society tells men that we are supposed to be strong-willed, unemotional, stoic, tough guys who don't let things get to them and handle any situation. Those of us who fail at that? We are weak, girly, gay, or a pussy. Society tells me I am weak.
The numbers show that women are much more likely to be depressed than men. 70% more likely to be exact. I can somewhat see how that is, but I also think it is skewed by the sheer number of men who wouldn't report it. That don't go to their doctor and say they need help, or find a psychiatrist or psychologist and seek help. Men shouldn't need help. Feeling down? Kill an animal for sport, watch football, punch a wall, fix a car. Man stuff.
Part of why I started this blog was to open people up to depression and anxiety. Men, you can be depressed. You do not have to hide your feelings away. For too long we have been told to bottle up our emotions. We are told to stiffen up our upper lip, clench that jaw tight, don't let them see you cry. And if we fail at that, if we break down and cry, or if we reach out for help we are shunned by society. You think I don't feel that? You think I don't know that?
Ok so fair warning... The next bit is a peek inside of my head from a few months ago. I would be lying if I said that none of these thoughts still entered my head. They do. More often than I like. I am working on it though, and for now that is enough for me. So to everyone out there, I am ok. This is just a little insight into how my mind was at my darkest times. I am not suicidal right now, I am ok with things at the moment. So just remember that as you read on.
My mind was consumed by these thoughts. Every minute of every day. It can be downright exhausting. You know how cartoons portray the devil and angel trying to convince the character of what to do? Think to yourself, what it would be like to only have the devil sitting there. Telling you things. Bad things. Things like the following.
Outcast. Depressed. Failure. Failure to handle this on my own, failure to just keep living life like nothing is wrong, failure to be a man. Black-sheep. Pitied. Sick. Tired. Sick and tired, tired of struggling to get out of the house, tired of having my short fuse already lit when I open my eyes in the morning, tired of living this way. Tired of living. Death. Dying. Dying inside? Already dead inside. Worthless. Unworthy of love, unworthy of happiness, unworthy of sympathy, unworthy of help. Death. It would be easier if I were dead. Sinking. I'm dragging people down with me. Miserable. I'm making everyone else miserable too. They would be happier if I died. Why can't I just die? My kids would be better to have an image of what I was, than who I have become. What have I become? Nothing. A non-living thing. An emotionless, worthless, helpless, piece of garbage that is a drain on society, on myself, on my family. I welcome death. Can't it just happen? I don't want to kill myself... I just want to die. How pathetic am I? I can't even make the decision to ease everyone's suffering. Maybe tomorrow I can be a man about this and handle it. Maybe if I stop being a pussy and just did it, it would all be better.
My god, what am I doing? Is this what I have become? My inner voice is winning the battle of insanity. Who do you turn to when you have turned on yourself? Too many men have turned to the wrong people. Namely, Jim, Jack, or Jose. We try to drown the voice with alcohol or negate the voice with drugs instead of talking about what is wrong. How will people judge me if they find out I am having these thoughts or feeling this way?
How do you judge people? Do you have a preconceived idea of what a crazy person looks like? How about a depressed person? An alcoholic?
If you pictured anything other than someone like your neighbor, your friend, your coworker, your parent, your sibling, your child, your significant other, or even yourself, you need to adjust your outlook. I am your neighbor. I am your friend. I am your coworker. I am someone's parent. I am my brother's brother. I am my parent's child. I am my wife's husband. I am a little crazy. I am depressed. I am me, and that's perfectly fine. Not broken, not weak, not worthless. I am me.
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