Dear Dr ___,
You asked that I write you after a few weeks on my new meds for Depression. I really cannot express how much that impressed me that you asked me to write you and assess my condition for you this way. Thank you very much in advance. You are a cool doctor and I admire your work and honest approach with me over the difficult and often times tedious subject of something like Depression and anxiety.
Well let me explain things here this way: Keep in mind I am still reeling from a separation from a 15 year relationship and having lived abroad for ten of those years. I am not adjusting to what is left of my family after my return and my fathers death. But on other levels - except for the momentary unemployment I am doing well. I own my own house (and its paid for) as is the used car I drive. My credit rating is good and I keep busy working on my dilapitated but paid for home.
But to describe where I am at with the meds you prescribed. The Fluoxetine (aka generic Prozac) works - but I am skeptical. Lexapro would probably work better. I am taking some form of Clonazepam for the late night anxiety that is gripping and often times worse than the depression itself. But here is an example - a slice of life of what is going on with me. Despite my sometimes incessant loneliness and aloneness and my struggle with existential nihilism in a society where everything is permitted and nothing matters - I feed the birds and watch the seasons shift in my existentialist roadtrip to nowhere. But tonight... ....watching TV from Sharjah UAE in Arabic (and my understanding of Arabic is limited at best) http://www.sharjahtv.ae/ via satellite (I've been to the UAE and liked it very much) and at one point felt something on my face. Even though I wasn't feeling anything but pharmaceutical numbness, tears were rolling down my cheeks. No lump in my throat. No specific sadness or at least none that I was aware of. But physical signs of depression all the same. Finding that I was tearing like that - crying - surprised me at how out of touch with myself I am - I don't really have words to describe what it means to be surprised that you yourself are crying for no reason almost personally oblivious to doing so - some part of me disconnected to my awareness was crying. ....and all while watching TV but not crying over the TV subject.
I'm sure this detachedness happens to other people but it has never happened to me. I'm not sure what to think about taking meds for depression. This isn't right - it isn't natural - and yet I cannot function in "life" without meds. To be honest - despite what I write I think I probably need more/different medicine not less. At least for the moment. (Sick isn't it?)... I still struggle with incessant thoughts of death that honestly just pester me. I want to live and enjoy things but can only think about piling up medical bills that make no sense and how and where to get a job in my condition.
I do not have an active tendency to inflict pain on myself in any suicidal attempt - thanks God(s) but the existential nihilism is dogging me to no end. Its like this - if I have to die (and I do - we all do - I understand that quite well) I just want to get it over with. Like as a kid during swimming lessons in the spring when the outdoor water was cold - you just had to jump in and start swimming. Well thats how I feel about death. The cold pool awaits. ...(But first)...
I really would like to just travel a bit more - especially since I lived overseas for so long and travelled about the middle east the way Europeans do in ways Americans cannot comprehend. I have the money to travel modestly even but should probably save it. But who knows maybe it is better to travel. Perhaps once my meds stabilize.
Sexually I have noticed a difference. I can make sex if I want to but getting me to want it is not so easy (solo or otherwise) - but then I'm not really a swinger or living the lifestyle of a stud bachelor. In some ways its a relief not to have a compulsion for sex. But it does affect how I feel about myself. I get the most satisfaction walking my dog at the OSU wetlands research area open to the public. http://swamp.osu.edu/ I like the quiet and the birds and water and tanglewood trees there. I like the mixture of science fostering and restoring nature rather than destroying it for capitalism.
The rest of the time i just feel extremely lonely like...
...human roadkill on the side of a busy road of life and capitalism.You are the only person in the medical industry i know who would understand any of this with respect towards me.
Then this morning, Later:
I woke up today to typical Ohio overcast skies - I just feel - ....so.... - I can't articulate - it's like a my soul groans... moans and groans in ways too deep for words from any language. I got up early anyways, today. Drove myself to a far away independent diner because I can't take the McChains... And there are no independent diners anywhere anymore or donut shops to abuse myself with - then while at the bar - I prefer eating solo at the bar - the sun came out and I recovered... somewhat. Or the coffee kicked in...
Last nite was weird. Haunting and alone is all I can say.
...I wonder what Dr ____ will make of that letter. I suspect his RN will send me a one sentance reply and I'll wonder if anyone else but you dear reader understood the words. Well, with writing, it's the process for me that matters. The writing it all out it's how I survive...
Outside, I do wish it were already ten to fifteen degrees warmer - what I don't like about the Ohio climate is that it always has me wanting something... different. It's a hard climate and the suicide sky fucks with my soul and my brain. Waking up alone with those skies today - after last night... I don't know how it is I'm not hurting myself physically - but thank God I'm not. My mind torments me.
As far as roadkill - "...my god..." - as Betty Butterfield from YouTube would say with her dialect - I burst out in tears over roadkill because deep down I know I am Ohio wildlife roadkill - squished to the pavement - run over half alive but stuck to the tarmac - waiting - I can cry over roadkill but can't cry at my folks funerals.
Then last night sitting and watching Sheikhs on Saudi TV via satellite late night alone in bed unbeknownst to me I'm crying at how dignified and Angelic they look - like the Angels Gabriel and Michael - Jibril and Mikael in Arabic.... (think like al Gebra for math). Maybe thats why I was staring at the soporific electronic blue TV images all catatonic and alone like and crying and not even realizing it. Plus I've been to those parts of the world.
Central Ohio feels like a glue trap for human lab rats. I've been with men like those sheikhs - some are dear hearted extremely generous and gentle - others can be mean and nasty - hey - just like anyone else around the world. But those bearded sheikhs in white have a style and dignity like nowhere else in the world. Maybe thats what I am missing. Why I am crying inside. I feel like roadkill - white trash in dirty jeans and a torn T-shirt with holes in my socks and shoes - in need of a wash - suburban misfit - lost - alone - discarded housewife dishrag - wandering along the side of a transcontinental capitalists expressway.
....Sell house - find Rusty a home - get a job in Sharjah, UAE - maybe that's what I should do... move to Arizona... who knows... who cares... nothing matters... But the point seems to be to leave here - Yet to occupy myself I keep working on this house... which is endless....I just want to wake up. Rusty the black dog deserves better. I really don't know. Nothing makes sense without Mom and Dad and Bart or my sister-self locked up behind countless layers of razorwire and guarded checkpoints.
It will end - in that there is consolation - an end to the wanting in this soul body - an end to the needing. But right now it just feels like nothing will end, nothing will change and that difference is utterly elusive. But something has got to change.
You asked that I write you after a few weeks on my new meds for Depression. I really cannot express how much that impressed me that you asked me to write you and assess my condition for you this way. Thank you very much in advance. You are a cool doctor and I admire your work and honest approach with me over the difficult and often times tedious subject of something like Depression and anxiety.
Well let me explain things here this way: Keep in mind I am still reeling from a separation from a 15 year relationship and having lived abroad for ten of those years. I am not adjusting to what is left of my family after my return and my fathers death. But on other levels - except for the momentary unemployment I am doing well. I own my own house (and its paid for) as is the used car I drive. My credit rating is good and I keep busy working on my dilapitated but paid for home.
But to describe where I am at with the meds you prescribed. The Fluoxetine (aka generic Prozac) works - but I am skeptical. Lexapro would probably work better. I am taking some form of Clonazepam for the late night anxiety that is gripping and often times worse than the depression itself. But here is an example - a slice of life of what is going on with me. Despite my sometimes incessant loneliness and aloneness and my struggle with existential nihilism in a society where everything is permitted and nothing matters - I feed the birds and watch the seasons shift in my existentialist roadtrip to nowhere. But tonight... ....watching TV from Sharjah UAE in Arabic (and my understanding of Arabic is limited at best) http://www.sharjahtv.ae/ via satellite (I've been to the UAE and liked it very much) and at one point felt something on my face. Even though I wasn't feeling anything but pharmaceutical numbness, tears were rolling down my cheeks. No lump in my throat. No specific sadness or at least none that I was aware of. But physical signs of depression all the same. Finding that I was tearing like that - crying - surprised me at how out of touch with myself I am - I don't really have words to describe what it means to be surprised that you yourself are crying for no reason almost personally oblivious to doing so - some part of me disconnected to my awareness was crying. ....and all while watching TV but not crying over the TV subject.
I'm sure this detachedness happens to other people but it has never happened to me. I'm not sure what to think about taking meds for depression. This isn't right - it isn't natural - and yet I cannot function in "life" without meds. To be honest - despite what I write I think I probably need more/different medicine not less. At least for the moment. (Sick isn't it?)... I still struggle with incessant thoughts of death that honestly just pester me. I want to live and enjoy things but can only think about piling up medical bills that make no sense and how and where to get a job in my condition.
I do not have an active tendency to inflict pain on myself in any suicidal attempt - thanks God(s) but the existential nihilism is dogging me to no end. Its like this - if I have to die (and I do - we all do - I understand that quite well) I just want to get it over with. Like as a kid during swimming lessons in the spring when the outdoor water was cold - you just had to jump in and start swimming. Well thats how I feel about death. The cold pool awaits. ...(But first)...
I really would like to just travel a bit more - especially since I lived overseas for so long and travelled about the middle east the way Europeans do in ways Americans cannot comprehend. I have the money to travel modestly even but should probably save it. But who knows maybe it is better to travel. Perhaps once my meds stabilize.
Sexually I have noticed a difference. I can make sex if I want to but getting me to want it is not so easy (solo or otherwise) - but then I'm not really a swinger or living the lifestyle of a stud bachelor. In some ways its a relief not to have a compulsion for sex. But it does affect how I feel about myself. I get the most satisfaction walking my dog at the OSU wetlands research area open to the public. http://swamp.osu.edu/ I like the quiet and the birds and water and tanglewood trees there. I like the mixture of science fostering and restoring nature rather than destroying it for capitalism.
The rest of the time i just feel extremely lonely like...
...human roadkill on the side of a busy road of life and capitalism.You are the only person in the medical industry i know who would understand any of this with respect towards me.
Then this morning, Later:
I woke up today to typical Ohio overcast skies - I just feel - ....so.... - I can't articulate - it's like a my soul groans... moans and groans in ways too deep for words from any language. I got up early anyways, today. Drove myself to a far away independent diner because I can't take the McChains... And there are no independent diners anywhere anymore or donut shops to abuse myself with - then while at the bar - I prefer eating solo at the bar - the sun came out and I recovered... somewhat. Or the coffee kicked in...
Last nite was weird. Haunting and alone is all I can say.
...I wonder what Dr ____ will make of that letter. I suspect his RN will send me a one sentance reply and I'll wonder if anyone else but you dear reader understood the words. Well, with writing, it's the process for me that matters. The writing it all out it's how I survive...
Outside, I do wish it were already ten to fifteen degrees warmer - what I don't like about the Ohio climate is that it always has me wanting something... different. It's a hard climate and the suicide sky fucks with my soul and my brain. Waking up alone with those skies today - after last night... I don't know how it is I'm not hurting myself physically - but thank God I'm not. My mind torments me.
As far as roadkill - "...my god..." - as Betty Butterfield from YouTube would say with her dialect - I burst out in tears over roadkill because deep down I know I am Ohio wildlife roadkill - squished to the pavement - run over half alive but stuck to the tarmac - waiting - I can cry over roadkill but can't cry at my folks funerals.
Then last night sitting and watching Sheikhs on Saudi TV via satellite late night alone in bed unbeknownst to me I'm crying at how dignified and Angelic they look - like the Angels Gabriel and Michael - Jibril and Mikael in Arabic.... (think like al Gebra for math). Maybe thats why I was staring at the soporific electronic blue TV images all catatonic and alone like and crying and not even realizing it. Plus I've been to those parts of the world.
Central Ohio feels like a glue trap for human lab rats. I've been with men like those sheikhs - some are dear hearted extremely generous and gentle - others can be mean and nasty - hey - just like anyone else around the world. But those bearded sheikhs in white have a style and dignity like nowhere else in the world. Maybe thats what I am missing. Why I am crying inside. I feel like roadkill - white trash in dirty jeans and a torn T-shirt with holes in my socks and shoes - in need of a wash - suburban misfit - lost - alone - discarded housewife dishrag - wandering along the side of a transcontinental capitalists expressway.
....Sell house - find Rusty a home - get a job in Sharjah, UAE - maybe that's what I should do... move to Arizona... who knows... who cares... nothing matters... But the point seems to be to leave here - Yet to occupy myself I keep working on this house... which is endless....I just want to wake up. Rusty the black dog deserves better. I really don't know. Nothing makes sense without Mom and Dad and Bart or my sister-self locked up behind countless layers of razorwire and guarded checkpoints.
It will end - in that there is consolation - an end to the wanting in this soul body - an end to the needing. But right now it just feels like nothing will end, nothing will change and that difference is utterly elusive. But something has got to change.
1 comment:
Alisha - I am a swimmer! Swam in various pools on two continents.
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