|The thousand-yard stare.|
The difference between a normal mood and depression is like night and day.
A buddy posted the following link on Facebook, and while I’m sure he meant well, it kind of sent me into a tailspin of depression that has lasted close to three weeks now. Anyhow, thanks for the heads-up.
It’s all about the provincial government stealing $469.00 a month from the disabled and putting them out into the streets. (Toronto Star.)
And the list of symptoms on Wikipedia is bang-on.
“Life events and changes that may precipitate depressed mood include childbirth, menopause, (or andropause, as I will be 54 this summer,) financial difficulties, job problems, relationship troubles, separation, bereavement and catastrophic injury...” (Like when you fall from a scaffold and break your back in three places, which ensures a life sentence of poverty, pain and suffering.)
And society’s biggest priority is to label you something other than an injured worker, too many of whom end up on disability or welfare, homeless and on the streets. Injured workers deserve justice—now we can’t have that, can we? Justice costs money after all.
Here’s an interesting perspective; is it terrorism/ Or is it just mental illness? (Psychology Today.)
Beating depression without the use of drugs: yes, and I hope you sell a lot of books, too. (Guardian.)
Why antidepressants don’t work. (Huffington Post.)
I know this to be true, as I was on Ativan, (Larazepam) for seven years. The withdrawal was sheer hell, and I weaned myself off of them over the course of some months. Even then, it was like my skin was crawling for about the next three and a half years, and there was a temptation to go back on it, if only for a little while, if only to get some relief. Long-term use leads to further psychotic effects. That’s because anxiety and depression can only be squelched for so long, and something has to give. Something will trigger it, and give rise to an expression of it. Of course, after relying on the dope for so long, I really didn’t have any coping skills. I had to learn some new ones. Just to warm the cockles of the bourgeoisie, you should know that they prescribe this shit like candy in our nation's jails. But of course, it doesn't work. Also, it increases psychosis, including paranoia and agression. Also, it's very cheap and the docs get a kickback. They have a vested interest, just as anyone working in the industry, to ensure the problem of crime never goes away. And they'll have jobs for life. They can buy nice big houses and live in calm and sequestered dignity.
The depression would be bad enough without the aggression, the irritability, the inability to do any work at all, even work I once enjoyed. That attack-dog syndrome is hard on the self-esteem, for we over-react to almost any provocation, and we live in provocative times. Naturally, we feel like shit afterwards.
The only good thing I can say about depression is the contrast. When it’s over you know it’s over. When other people are having a normal day, you feel fantastic—because you’re not depressed anymore. The difference is that vivid.
This may not help, but I wrote something about depression a long time ago. It’s a poem of sorts.
What about depression?
Give us your first impression
It hits like a physical blow
One is aware, that it will eventually go
But there is nothing else that you can do
In the meantime.
You can’t smile, you can’t laugh
No matter how funny the joke is
You feel a sense of shame
Because you cannot control
The way your face goes
It seems to be triggered;
A responsive phenomena
Into manic, sudden and intense
Uncomfortable, yet fantastic
You don’t need heroin when you’re manic
Like you could almost climb Mount Everest—
If you felt like it. But that’s for insecure people.
Ah! If only there were time. Still, while it lasts…
Seems like nothing and no one can touch you
Those are the really precious times, for it ends too soon.
But it’s when you are normal
Whatever that word defines
Trying to level out, all the peaks and valleys,
That’s what it’s all about
It’s the only true perspective
Now I must go forth, unto the grocery store
Get while the getting’s good; for after all
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
While I still have a sense of self esteem.
And anybody that don’t like that can bite me.