Darkness falls, morning breaks
Like many sexual abuse survivors, I suffered chrontic 'low-grade', covert depression for many years.
I covered it up with religion first, then with alcohol and drugs. The little bit I did manage to vent came out as acute cynicism, though I would have sworn to you I was a very optimistic person.
The whole while, I continued to 'function'. Interesting how that word is used so often in this regard. Buried beneath the walls of denial; fortified with copious amounts of alcohol administered internally and by simply refusing to stop to take a good long look at myself, I was able to function like a rather poorly constructed machine.
When the darkness of depression first crept into my world I cannot say. It seems to have always existed there in my memory, though I have no way of knowing if that is the truth.
I do know that almost 7 years ago, my covert depression became quite overt and I began to experience difficulties in living. At first, I began to cry uncontrollably, almost on a nightly basis.
I would cry and sob until my stomach hurt usually just before going to bed. It was particularly gut wrenching if I attempted to pray.
I was totally mystified and had no idea what was happening to me. This breakdown in function forced me to seek professional help. I went to therapy, hoping for a quick tune-up and then back on the road again.
I had quit drinking several years prior to this and had been doing my best to live according to some spiritual principles in order to maintain my sobriety. During this time, the idea that I had been sexually abused as a teenager began to coalesce in my mind. Up until that point, I simply thought that as a 15 year old I had a sexual liaison with a 55 year old man who was acting 'in loco parentis' as he liked to say.
With therapy and lots of hard work, my situation began to stabilize. I explored much of the dark territory of depression with the help of a good T and eventually felt good enough to quit going to him.
Moved to New York City in the summer of 2001 in a new relationship. I got there just in time to be victimized by the terrorism of September 11.
In the weeks that followed that horrific event, the darkness fell so heavily upon me that I could barely get through the days. I managed to find some help and start medication.
I have been suffering from the manifestations of depression ever since. For the last 3 years I have been in therapy, individual and group, under the care of a good psychiatrist I take large quantities of anti-depressants daily (Effexor 300mg, Zoloft 200mg, Gabitril 4mg).
I no longer think of dying on a daily basis. My outlook has much improved and for the most part I am able to enjoy life.
Finding and participating in MaleSurvivor has been an enormous aid to my recovery from the sexual abuse and the desperate depression that followed it.
For the last few weeks, however, I feel that darkness as acutely as before. It is worse in the morning. I feel as though I awake each day at the bottom of a very murky pond and must spend all my time and energy simply struggling to reach the surface to gasp for air.
Life has become more difficult; my outlook more hopeless and my physical ailments, aches and pains more acute. I wonder if my medication has quit working.
I can tell whan a person really knows about depression. They're the ones who don't ask "What are you depressed about?", when I describe how low I am feeling.
I'm seeing my shrink sometime this month and will ask him about the meds not working.
Meanwhile, I struggle to reach the surface and find some air and some life on a daily basis.
Today I know what depression is and that in itself is some solace. But the heaviness in my limbs and the fatigue in my spirit weigh on me like a suit of wet clothes.
Someone once said that depression is "anger without any motivation", and I have been working very hard on some anger in my group therapy lately.
My hope is that continuing to talk about this dark cloud of depression will enable me to find my way through once again to the other side. I am sure that the anniversary of 9/11, which I studiously avoided, has some part to play.
I find escape in my work, but then find that I work so hard and so long that I injure myself and am crippled up afterwards. My depression is not the consistency of sadness.
Depression is the consistency of frozen molasses. The lack of ability to feel is much worse than simply feeling bad.
My experience is that when the depression returns in such an overt manner is when it can be dealt with directly and with positive results.
It is when it lies hidden that it is able to exert the debilitating, pernicious influence on all spheres of my life.
But God it feels bad right now. I am working to reach out in the darkness and find a hand to hold mine so that I can feel and express the tremendous sadness and grief hidden beneath the sombre fog of despair.
I just can't get to myself right now; I feel frozen and blocked and afraid of feeling.
Intellectually I know that "this, too, shall pass", and that is comfort in itself. But when?
I haven't been posting on the board here for a little while and now at least I have the energy to do that. Depression and then anxiety over how the effects of the depression are fucking up my life have got me by the balls and I'm hurting today.
Thanks for reading if you've made it this far with me in the darkness--it feels good to imagine that a friend is nearby.
Love,
I covered it up with religion first, then with alcohol and drugs. The little bit I did manage to vent came out as acute cynicism, though I would have sworn to you I was a very optimistic person.
The whole while, I continued to 'function'. Interesting how that word is used so often in this regard. Buried beneath the walls of denial; fortified with copious amounts of alcohol administered internally and by simply refusing to stop to take a good long look at myself, I was able to function like a rather poorly constructed machine.
When the darkness of depression first crept into my world I cannot say. It seems to have always existed there in my memory, though I have no way of knowing if that is the truth.
I do know that almost 7 years ago, my covert depression became quite overt and I began to experience difficulties in living. At first, I began to cry uncontrollably, almost on a nightly basis.
I would cry and sob until my stomach hurt usually just before going to bed. It was particularly gut wrenching if I attempted to pray.
I was totally mystified and had no idea what was happening to me. This breakdown in function forced me to seek professional help. I went to therapy, hoping for a quick tune-up and then back on the road again.
I had quit drinking several years prior to this and had been doing my best to live according to some spiritual principles in order to maintain my sobriety. During this time, the idea that I had been sexually abused as a teenager began to coalesce in my mind. Up until that point, I simply thought that as a 15 year old I had a sexual liaison with a 55 year old man who was acting 'in loco parentis' as he liked to say.
With therapy and lots of hard work, my situation began to stabilize. I explored much of the dark territory of depression with the help of a good T and eventually felt good enough to quit going to him.
Moved to New York City in the summer of 2001 in a new relationship. I got there just in time to be victimized by the terrorism of September 11.
In the weeks that followed that horrific event, the darkness fell so heavily upon me that I could barely get through the days. I managed to find some help and start medication.
I have been suffering from the manifestations of depression ever since. For the last 3 years I have been in therapy, individual and group, under the care of a good psychiatrist I take large quantities of anti-depressants daily (Effexor 300mg, Zoloft 200mg, Gabitril 4mg).
I no longer think of dying on a daily basis. My outlook has much improved and for the most part I am able to enjoy life.
Finding and participating in MaleSurvivor has been an enormous aid to my recovery from the sexual abuse and the desperate depression that followed it.
For the last few weeks, however, I feel that darkness as acutely as before. It is worse in the morning. I feel as though I awake each day at the bottom of a very murky pond and must spend all my time and energy simply struggling to reach the surface to gasp for air.
Life has become more difficult; my outlook more hopeless and my physical ailments, aches and pains more acute. I wonder if my medication has quit working.
I can tell whan a person really knows about depression. They're the ones who don't ask "What are you depressed about?", when I describe how low I am feeling.
I'm seeing my shrink sometime this month and will ask him about the meds not working.
Meanwhile, I struggle to reach the surface and find some air and some life on a daily basis.
Today I know what depression is and that in itself is some solace. But the heaviness in my limbs and the fatigue in my spirit weigh on me like a suit of wet clothes.
Someone once said that depression is "anger without any motivation", and I have been working very hard on some anger in my group therapy lately.
My hope is that continuing to talk about this dark cloud of depression will enable me to find my way through once again to the other side. I am sure that the anniversary of 9/11, which I studiously avoided, has some part to play.
I find escape in my work, but then find that I work so hard and so long that I injure myself and am crippled up afterwards. My depression is not the consistency of sadness.
Depression is the consistency of frozen molasses. The lack of ability to feel is much worse than simply feeling bad.
My experience is that when the depression returns in such an overt manner is when it can be dealt with directly and with positive results.
It is when it lies hidden that it is able to exert the debilitating, pernicious influence on all spheres of my life.
But God it feels bad right now. I am working to reach out in the darkness and find a hand to hold mine so that I can feel and express the tremendous sadness and grief hidden beneath the sombre fog of despair.
I just can't get to myself right now; I feel frozen and blocked and afraid of feeling.
Intellectually I know that "this, too, shall pass", and that is comfort in itself. But when?
I haven't been posting on the board here for a little while and now at least I have the energy to do that. Depression and then anxiety over how the effects of the depression are fucking up my life have got me by the balls and I'm hurting today.
Thanks for reading if you've made it this far with me in the darkness--it feels good to imagine that a friend is nearby.
Love,
, and I noticed how tall and full the plants were.