I Never Dreamed Home Would End Up Where I Don't Belong

I can't get a grip.  Sometimes I feel like a rock climber facing a sheer cliff.  Working, climbing, hanging by my fingernails at times.  One little misstep, a rock breaks away and you slide.  Tearing at your fingers, trying to find something to hold on to, something to save you.  You grasp a rock, you think it is what you need, the rock disappears.  Removed from your grasp by something you can't see or feel.

Free fall.

You think this is it.  The time has come.  You find yourself staring at the knife case at Wal-Mart.  First just thoughts of cutting yourself to redirect your mind.  Then you think you need one bigger and sharper.  One not just to cut, but to slice through flesh, able to plunge through cartilage and connective tissue to reach a depth deep enough to end the thoughts once and for all.

I hate feeling like this.  If I could turn it off and be better I would.  I did not ask to feel this way, I am not keeping it up to try and get attention.  I will be thrilled the day I can post on here and say goodbye.  Not because I am going to do something terrible, but because I am better and can move on from all this.

So I wrote the above a little over a month ago.  I was in a pretty rough place and worried the people close to me that were watching me slide back down into a deeper depression.  I wasn't sleeping much which in turn makes the symptoms of my depression worse.  I was headed towards another breakdown, another failure to grasp my feelings and emotions and express them.  Another failure to reach out for help.  Why is it so hard for me to just express what I am feeling and what I need verbally?

When I was in the hospital after my breakdown I made a promise.  I promised my wife that if I began getting worse, began to slide back down into the abyss, that I would leave.  Not because she didn't love me, or that I didn't love her, it was because we both loved each other enough to know that if it happened again I needed to leave.  It would be toxic not only to us, but our two children and I don't want either of those.  So when my wife came to me saying she saw me falling backwards and our daughter said that she thought I hated her, it was time to make good on that promise.

I of course did not take it that easy.  I was upset.  I was being abandoned when I was in a dark depression.  That was it, no one really cared about me anymore.  I was alone, I was scared, and I was hurting.  Then I remembered the promise I made back in September.  I thought to myself: "If I am going to get better and work on healing myself and the ones I care about I have to live up to my promises."  It was a starting point in a time when all things seemed to be ending.  So that evening I packed some things and headed to my mom's house, not knowing what was to come.

I began to understand that I needed this, and my wife probably needed it too and the kids certainly didn't need to see me spiral down again.  This didn't happen overnight, or even over a week.  It was a slow process to come to terms with the situation as a whole.

One of the first things I did was go to my psychiatrist to see about changing one of my medications.  I thought it had stopped being effective so we switched to another.  The switch certainly helped, I was back to sleeping at night. I also went in to see my general practice doctor to talk about testosterone.  I had a family member that was tested and his levels were remarkably low, and with the symptoms I have had it could explain a lot.  So I was tested, simple blood draw.  Told it would take 48-72 hours to get the results.  The next morning I had an e-mail from my doctor.  My levels were well below the cut off for low.  In fact, according to a few studies I was below the 2nd percentile of men.  I'm pretty sure my levels were closer to a woman than the average man.  So I also got onto testosterone replacement therapy.  Smearing gel on my shoulders every morning.  If you don't let it air dry for more than 10 minutes your shirt will stick to your shoulders.  I think even 10 minutes may be generous.

Even with everything that has transpired in the past 6 weeks I am feeling better.  The medication I replaced had caused an insatiable appetite at times.  With it gone I am eating less and eating healthier.

I miss my kids, I miss my wife, and I miss the life I once had.  I don't know if I will get it all back, but I am, for the first time in a long time, hopeful for the future.

I wanted to share this blog post with you all as well.  It was shown to me and it does a pretty good job of describing depression.  The illustrations are certainly worth the price of admission.  http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html

Oh yeah, and in case you were wondering, no knives left the case at Wal-Mart. I figured out I don't have to hide from my emotions or block them out with pain, I just have to deal with them as they come and do what I think is right for myself and those around me.  Causing pain to stop thinking about things was the way I took before and I didn't want what I did before, I wanted something new.  I still have the scars from when I did it before, and for now they serve as a constant reminder of where I was and in turn where I want to be and need to be.  I can't help but feel optimistic about the future.  For the first time in a long time, I am optimistic about life.