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The Big D

Hello, ladies!  Sorry, when I thought of the title, the first thing that came to mind was a dirty joke.  I tried to keep it clean.

Depression is a horrible thing.  Do I suffer from it?  No.  Would any doctor, therapist or psychologist diagnose me with it?  Probably.  The one thing that I've been mostly good at throughout my life is putting on a smile and hiding how I usually feel.  But maybe it's been a part of me for a lot longer of a time then I had thought.

I originally thought it started in middle school.  The time in everyone's life when they're trying to figure shit out.  So let's put all of them together and let them figure it out together.  That's a good idea isn't it?  Not really.  Tends to boil down to the kids that are the bullies and the kids that are the bullied.  Guess which one I was.

It got so bad that I would miss weeks of school at a time because my stomach just wouldn't let me go.  So a doctor put me on an anti-depressant (Zoloft for those wondering) and sent me on my my "merry" way.  I took them for awhile before I decided that they just weren't working and stopped taking them. 

Big mistake.  Quiting an anti-depressant cold turkey is a bad move.  My body shut down.  Hard.  I could barely move, body temperature dropped, and I couldn't eat.  Yea, I'm never taking anti-depressant medicine ever again, no matter what a doctor says.

But in my late 20's I had a realization that it may have been even before that.  When I was in second grade we had an assignment to draw a picture on what we thought of ourselves.  What did I draw?  I drew a picture of me hanging from a rope from a ceiling with swords through my body.  Such a happy picture.

I don't think it was because I wanted to die.  At least I don't think it was.  Kind of hard to believe a kid of 7 years old would want to die, but who knows.  My parents took me to a therapist for awhile (which not until I was almost 30 did I realize why) and after awhile the therapist determined there was nothing wrong with me.  Awesome!  I just draw pictures of me hanging myself for fun!!!

Flash forward to after I stopped taking the anti-depressants and I had someone to talk to.  Someone that actually listened to me.  At some point this is how I learned to start deflecting conversations about myself, but at first I did talk about me.  I was at the point that I was going to be a statistic.  Another kid that killed himself because of being bullied.  I'm sure they were keeping track of that back in the late 90's.  But because of a friend I wasn't.

After awhile things changed and while I still consider that person a friend, things changed.  People drift apart.  Nature of life.  Move on.  The problem was I never found someone else to talk to about myself and what was on my mind.  So I did what an irrational person would do.  I bottled it up.

Bottled it up is probably the wrong way of putting it.  I built walls so thick that it could withstand whatever natural disaster could happen to it.  Asteroid.  Pfft, more like a punny pebble. 

I'm sure this has a negative effect on a person.  I'll find that out sooner rather than later, most likely.  But it's worked this long.  Well, mostly this long.  Recently I found something that broke those walls down like they were fucking nothing.  Didn't see it coming.  But hey, things get torn down so they can get built back up even stronger, right?

Sorry, back to the depression part.  So, suicidal thoughts come and go, blah blah blah.  Just because suicidal thoughts are there doesn't mean a person is actually going to do it.  In a way they're kind of more debilitating.  Can kind of shut a person down for a bit.  They never really go away.

And people say going to a therapist or psychologist would help.  But really it wouldn't .  It's more helpful when it's a friend.  A friend that will actually put in the effort to push beyond one's ability to deflect them as much as possible is 100% more effective than someone you pay to listen to you blab on about yourself.  That's my feelings at least.  Sometimes just knowing someone cares about you enough to push past your bullshit can actually be welcomed than they think.

But that's hard to find.  I've spent most of my life looking for someone to do that.  I don't ask for much.  Well I do.  If someone actually reads this, I'm sure it'll come up at some point.  After all I do tend to ramble.

I guess this wasn't really about depression in the end.  More of just me bitching about myself.  Welcome to my blog!  But in the end I do hope that someone, somewhere might stumble upon this and realize that you're not alone.  Find someone that will listen to you.  If a therapist/psychologist is the only option that do it.  It's not for me, but it could be for you.

There is no point in being miserable.  Trust me I've lived most of my life that way.  It sucks.  DON'T DO IT!!!  Be happy, get help.  There are people out there that care about you.  I'm sure of it.

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