What do you do after a lifetime of harrowing depression and you feel healed? It’s been a while since I’ve written about me as I’ve been so into fiction writing. This is by far the longest period of time I haven’t felt like dying in over twenty years. This is almost worse than being depressed in many respects . . . like being trapped alone in a strange new world.
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Posts Tagged depression
Stranger In The Mirror
Jan 27
My new friend Miragi asked me some questions about depression. She is the author of several blogs such as Stitch Witch and Read Between My Lines. I was pleasantly surprised and am more than happy to answer. I am an expert on being depressed and over time, have conquered it for the most part; although, I do occasionally fall in the abyss of misery.
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Whew. I have been away from blogging for a few days because of depression..again. It can sometimes be an embarrassing nuisance. I think I might just be insane. After writing an article, Happiness and Depression are Choices, I didn’t expect to be stricken down with my life long adversary so intensely. While I do believe it is largely a choice, I do realize I have a chemical imbalance that strikes without warning and hits with ferocious power.
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I’ve never been a materialistic person. I could lose everything I own because ultimately, it means absolutely nothing to me. My most prized possessions are my guitars – all of which I built myself from scratch – yet I would not shed a single tear if they burned in a fire. Actually, I have given many of them away as gifts to friends and family. Sure I like them, but I do not love them. It is impossible for me as a human being to love any inanimate object.
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I dedicate this to Anastasia from Sex, Life and Frilly Bits, a dear friend and one of the first people I met since starting this blog in February, 2007. She really made my day. She hails from Australia – her writing is fearless, powerful and brilliant. You should read her work, she is simply one of the best. Thanks Ana! Though this piece is extremely disturbing, it was inspired by something we talked about several months ago. Check out her CSI idea for the popular TV series – I love it!
I read a fantastic article from Catatonic Kid entitled The Secret Garden. The final lines describe how madness and melancholy have their seasons. It’s so absolutely true. Here, I describe a deeply personal season of my own:
There remain only memories, of who I used to be. All that remains is a shell. A dehydrated husk; cracked, dried and discarded. Forgotten. On a wisp of wind, I vaguely tasted the scent of who I used to be; a man full of hope and dreams. I became lost. Millions of faces everywhere I look, yet I feel dead. I feel alone. The remnants of self identity – once my only companion – is dead. Nothing remains but the fragrance of smoke – the forgotten embers of a singular life, lost in my crypt of eternal dread.
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Remembering 9-11 and Praying
Sep 12
It’s 1:00 AM here as I’m writing this. I’ve been watching several documentaries about 9-11, including a rerun of the entire ordeal as it happened on that day. I really appreciate MSNBC running all this footage even though I normally despise their liberal slant. I really wanted to write this yesterday, but I wasn’t ready.
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I’ve been fighting a seriously dark melancholy the past few days and am struggling to stay sane. Yesterday, I cut the yard and worked up a good sweat out in the heat. I had to do something to get myself out of this depression. I was born depressed, and to just not feel down for one day is so wonderful, I cannot explain it.
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I’ve suffered from severe depression my entire life and experienced much sadness. Severing toxic friendships has been a necessity for me, but it has also nearly destroyed me. It is my hope that tis article will help someone out there, even if it’s only one person.
When I grew up, I never fit in to the normal cliques, I was extremely rebellious and my friends were too. All of my friends used drugs, I sincerely mean every single one of them. I can’t name a single person I know who doesn’t use drugs or have a severe drinking problem, except for my immediate family.
I’m not going get into detail – not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. Actually, I’m not allowed to right now. Basically, my friends started going to prison. One of my best friends from highschool, Brian, lost his mind. He tried to kill his own mother with a butcher knife. His father beat him half to death with a baseball bat and saved her life. He was committed to a mental ward and is now a vegetable who lives on government disability.
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