Dark Sands & Going Manic

Depression crept up behind him and slithered in unnoticed.  Like sand in a hour glass, the dark grains accumulated in the bottom of his soul.  After 62 years on the planet, his soul could hold no more.

He had not left his house in weeks.  His wife walked around him and sadness filled their home of 35 years.  No one called.  No one stopped by.  He was no longer part of the world that had no problem leaving him behind.

He did not feel sad.  He had passed sad many floors ago.  He felt guilt and shame.  Guilt for what, he was not exactly sure.  Shame for letting himself and everyone else down.  But guilt and shame was all he had now, so he wrapped himself in the guilt and strapped it on tight with his shame.  The longer he wore them, the more comfortable they felt.  He felt his soul imploding, shrinking, trying to hide from itself.  And he did not care any more.

Sure he was nearing the tipping point, he began to make plans.  Complicated plans.  Simple plans.  And many different plans in between.  He tried to plan recoveries.  He tried to plan a variety of ends.  But try as he might, he just couldn't get off his ass to implement a single one of them.  Instead, he slow cooked in his misery and discontent, hoping some day he might find some relief.

~*~

I wrote the above a couple of years ago during one of the accumulating low moments in my life.

I figured that since Depression seems to be a day to day possibility for me now and in lieu of soul draining meds, I figured I might as well share and maybe purge some of the guilt and shame I live with when in the pit.

What follows is some history and maybe a newer, fresher perspective. ................ and maybe not.

~*~

Going Manic

Before the year 2000, I never thought about Depression.  I knew folks suffered from it.  I watched both of my parents deal with it as they approached the end of their run on the planet.  Before 2000, I had not yet felt the crush as the dark pit wrapped itself around me.

Then in, I guess about 2001 or 2002, I was talked into being part of the first run of Interferon based therapy for Hepatitis.  Painful injections and pills made me feel about as shitty as a human can feel.

Seems of all the nasty side affects, down at the bottom of the list in print so small, I had to read it with a magnifying glass, there it was.  11% of the trial patients experienced suicidal ideation.  Of course, I did not find this out until I had already attempted suicide.  Of course, being a rookie, a NooB, an inexperienced suicide hobbyist, I failed.  Half ass attempt for sure, but it certainly scared the shit out of me.  I dropped out of the program.

Ever since my run in with bad pharmaceuticals,  I have had to deal with on again, off again bouts of depression.

The up side........ yeah, there is actually an upside I think .............. The upside is that now as if to balance my life's rhythms,  The low notes are offset by wonderful high notes.  I get to experience the joy of mania.  Up is often really up ...... I'm flying ...... thoughts move so quickly, I have trouble getting a handle on them.  But when I am able to grab one, my focus is impressive.  I guess even bad medicine can have a silver lining.

A friend asked me a few years back what did Depression feel like.  I am sure everyone has their own notion of what it is or isn't.  But I told him that for me it was non-existence with my eyes open.  Nothing matters.  Nobody cares, least of all me.  The out there world is a fantasy land that is maybe or maybe not just a fig-newton of my imagination.

As always, I will endeavor to Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................