Inside Depression

Fear and anger, most would agree are negative emotions.

In fighting against depression lo these many years, I have had the chance to develop some data about this state of being. Besides being painful, depression is mysterious and puzzling.

Currently I am attempting once again to go without traditional antidepressant medication. For many months I was okay. That has happened before. There have also been times where I stopped the medication and quickly deteriorated.

These on again, off again experiences are what I am referring to as developing data.

I will not go into all the things I have discovered, just my latest finding.

As depression begins there is a noticeable change in the way I think. The difference is in quality. My mind while not depressed seems quicker and more powerful. I enjoy whatever I may be doing because I am enjoying how my mind is functioning. I am in the moment. I am planning and executing and producing. This can keep me amused for hours, days, weeks. It is fun to be me.

As depression begins, there seems to be a dullness in my thinking. I am not enjoying anything, just trying to get done. What I do does not seem to get done very well.

This makes sense.

What I have heard is that certain chemicals in the brain are necessary for proper brain function. The brain is made up of a vast number of nerves that are not physically connected. There needs to be a medium through which impulses can be sent from one nerve to another. In simple terms, the medium can be thought of as liquid. When there is sufficient or abundant fluid, the nerves can communicate well. Lacking enough liquid medium to function properly is the reason depression can happen. Antidepressants correct this condition of dryness.

What I have just recently noticed is that depression starts with an emotion very much like fear. There is also an element of anger as well.

I think that goes hand and hand with no longer enjoying thinking and planning and producing.

It causes fear because what was easy is now hard. Not just hard, but unavailable, gone. How I deal with life, what I do each day, who I am is GONE. This scares me. It also makes me angry. I want my mojo back!

The pain that accompanies depression seems to be composed entirely of fear and anger. These emotions are not tied to real life. Therein lies the mysterious nature of depression. It just does not make sense, nothing adds up.

I know I am not functioning properly. I am afraid and angry. Mystery solved?

I should mention that there is an alternative to antidepressants. It is supplement call 5HTP. It produces brain chemicals that help. There is reportedly a down side. This go round I am trying not to take it every day, only as needed. Up until recently that was working perfectly.

I am hoping my body will heal itself. Whatever causes my brain to dry up needs to go. Can it?

One other side note: in reading about different characters from history, so many have this same condition. When the person is from the far past, they simply become bed ridden for months at periods during their lives. Apparently, being able to think quickly, deeply and powerfully can cause major problems.


Love someone well today,

Bobby

The Need to Lie

Have you been there? Reality is about to smack you. The desire is so strong to change reality to a more friendly modality. Add a pinch of fear and the truth becomes something one must deny.

This is common.

Less common is creating reality. Perhaps you have seen someone do this- asking for money because they need transportation to a rehab. Later when I called the rehab, I was informed that I was scammed.

That happened to me long ago. Since then I have become a sober alcoholic. Part of that major change in pathway included living with and among many times many people with addictions to various types of drugs.

Story after story played out before my eyes. My mind was passionately engaged because of the miracle that had happened to me. The miracle was despite knowing that I was going to die extremely drunk, in an instant I became wrong about that fate.

Anyway, I would love to tell you all the heartwarming stories that I have witnessed in the community of recovering addicts. There have been some, almost all involve alcoholics or alcoholics who were cross addicted.

Meanwhile, there was another type of human I encountered. One that I did not know existed and possibly you will never see as I see them.

They actually ALWAYS lie. I believe this is to keep in practice. They tell stories about being in distress nearly continuously. They are looking for "help". The reality is that they want help to get something that they will not tell you about.

Another trait of these particular people is anger, or at least what appears to be anger. These emotional outbursts come in the form of personal attacks on anyone who dares to bring truth. I am pretty sure these episodes are not real, but are also practiced. This serves two purposes. It discourages truth being around them by creating uncomfortable feelings and fear. There is also the chance that in ranting alternate truth in the middle of their attacks, someone or everyone might actually believe the lies.

In the situations I was in, living with people with this syndrome, it was incredible to see the  beginning, middle and end of the stories. At first, I was so convinced by the liars that I argued for them with others. Finding out I was definitely wrong was staggering. Finding out I was wrong made me develop a much better bullshit detector.

Later, once I was back in less unbalanced environs, my detector still worked. Now I get to see how I once was, naive.

I also have a greater respect for truth itself. If everyone gave truth their best effort, we could not even scratch the surface of its wonder and beauty. That, of course, is not the world's way and it breaks my heart all the time.

Back to the first statement. We all are faced with realities that make us want to lie. It is normal for these white lies to occur. So normal that it is a common theme in stories. The theme normally start with someone dedicating themselves to ALWAYS TELLING THE TRUTH. Of course, situations develop that are bad. They are caused by telling the truth and get worse. Until, the dedicated one finally gives in and lies. Yay!!!

Um, there is a flaw in this theme.

You do not ALWAYS need to tell the truth. The simple alternative is to not TELL anything at all.

You could not possibly imagine the grief I receive for this position.

Try telling anyone that there is no NEED to answer a question just because one is asked.

Seriously, try it.

In fact, try to do it yourself, I dare ya!

I will warn you, it can be fun. You might want to do it again.

But, best of all, recognize that it gives you the ability to never lie again.


LOVE SOMEONE WELL TODAY,

Bobby

Friends

People seem to like me.

As an individual, I fit in the category of needing only a few close friends. By close I mean someone I spend face to face time as well. While I hold past relationships in high regard and am so very grateful for the time we had once spent together; I am not the type to sustain an ongoing long distance relationship very well, if at all.

Currently I have no close male friends.

This is not the first, nor the second time I have found myself in this situation. I am not very proactive about finding friends, rather I have allowed life's circumstances to determine whether anyone was near to me.

Hmm.

Before coming to WV, I had a long run where I had a close friend or two for many years straight. This was an highly unusual occurrence. It went on for so long, I believe I mistakenly took it for granted that it would continue.

When I moved here, I halfheartedly assumed I would develop friends by going to meetings. I just thought that if I went enough that relationships would develop. Then I stopped going.

Out here in the country, there are neighbors. There are not many. I enjoy that. Unlike being in the city, there are very few people nearby whose name I know or come in to contact with on a casual basis.

I would presume that people out here have friends. How that dynamic exists is a mystery to me.

Then there is another avenue that could work, if I ever tried it. Sunday-go-to-meeting.

We actually did that for a short time since I have been here. We only went to the one church which, per usual, I had some doctrinal issue with. The Sunday school class was fun and I got to participate, which I loved. But the service was very dead and preaching was something I would rather not comment about.

Anyway, that was our only attempt at church. No friends developed.

What next? Will I ever have a new friend here? Stay tuned.

Life

Life can be so strange. As in, I often have a hard time believing who I am; where I am; where I've been.

In the midst of all that confusion, I have to pinch myself to believe that God allowed me the wonderful joy of being the father of two awesome children. Part of me is able to just feel the happy memories. Part of me bows before God to know that both my children far exceed their father in accomplishments and maturity.

Lately I have felt a new emotion- separation anxiety. My children have built their own lives now. If I had a nest, it would be empty.

I wonder too what it must be like to have me as a father. From the beginning, I tried to explain the world to them. Was that boring? Did it make sense? What made me feel at all qualified? Did anything I did or said actually make any difference? How about the negatives I brought to the table?

Maybe you can tell that I am not feeling very strong these days. While I am often quite arrogant, that part of me is missing lately. So be it. June seems to be for me the occasion for a down cycle most years.

Meanwhile, I really want my children to know how much I love them. You wouldn't think that would be so very hard, but then you are probably not like me (I will not even attempt an explanation of what I mean).

Often words come easily to me. Expressing how I feel about my children is not one of those times. Perhaps there are no words. The thing is just too big and too important and words are just too small a container, like trying to store a mighty river in a sandwich bag. Even what the sandwich bag can hold is no longer much like the original thing.

So all I can do is hope. Hope they know or at least suspect the depth of my love for them. May God grant me that small mercy. It is important that they know.

Maybe it takes the skill of a poet. This is just not a skill I possess. Normally, it is not a skill I even think about. So be it. Perhaps that skill would not help anyway.

Besides, I think I probably knock together some Hallmark-y words, in fact I am sure of it. If I could write them too the level of heaven this would not equal one hug. That is what I am missing, the hugs.