I'm seeing a therapist this Wednesday. The only other time I saw a therapist was around 2001 to 2004. I think I should've gotten more help throughout my life. But things have held me back. Part of it has been the stigma. Another has been that because my problems have tended more toward lack of connection rather than acting out, I treated it like it wasn't a problem. I have relatives who have suffered from depression, anxiety, substance abuse, etc., but that played out in more dramatic ways.

I've been feeling very depressed and lonely. It's really hard for me to develop deep friendships and relationships. I think other people don't realize my struggles, because I'm capable of having superficial friendships with them (e.g., making small talk with co-workers). But I don't get that much closer with people. It got more painful to me because a co-worker I was relatively close to (by my standards) started to get very standoffish to me. I've heard through the grapevine that she may be having her own personal issues. I was left sort of a adrift. Another co-worker, who I actually went to school with years before, gave me some therapist recommendations. I'm hoping to take some concrete actions to feel better about myself.

Any particular reason why ?

We're here for you man, even if it just to listen.

Thirded. As we all know very well, I've been there & done that, though I seem to have been on an even beam since something like early December. Could be pure happenstance & good luck; could be the right dosages of my two psychotropic medications (I lean strongly toward the latter).

Funny. I've wondered sometimes if I even have the right to be depressed. There are so many people that have it worse than me or have had it worse than me, but have overcome adversity to accomplish their goals. That is what pops into my head when I'm frustrated that I'm not where I want to be at in life. There are people being tortured right now, sick, grieving over lost loves, etc. I'm just scared of failure, so I put off trying and investing the time and effort into hard work. I'm 28, but I already feel like I'm 100 in a way. Time is always on my mind. As if it's slipping away. I have money, but really it's not my money. It's my wife and her family's. She's dragged me financially. I couldn't even get her a ring she deserves yet and we've been married for four years now. That eats at me a lot. She definitely reminds me of it from time to time which is just hell and leads to arguing. She wants me to succeed and supports my "goal" of working in the storyboard or comic industry as an illustrator. "What I wouldn't give for a work ethic" is what I've told myself for quite some time now. It's true. But then after a while it just comes off as an excuse. I'm in Arizona now bitching about a road trip that I don't really want to be apart of, on the verge of becoming an expat when I move overseas to Macau in a couple of weeks.


Oh...and I also think about other women sometimes. Yup. It's true. And when I say think about them, I mean I think about f***ing them. Some are people I know. One person in particular has been on my mind actually as of late. I've only talked to her a few times IRL. Then there is porn of course...something else I utilize sometimes when I have an opportunity. Ever heard of maladaptive daydreaming? It's what I believe to be a dangerous road that I've embarked on. Even during the day I'll think about the greener grass, when I'm already in a pretty good situation health and life wise right now. I can't have anyone physically touching me though when I'm in that kind of trance, because then it makes me feel uncomfortable and the illusion breaks down. I snap back to reality. I do it because a big part of me wants more. I want everything without having to work hard for it. I don't really know what hard work is. Yeah, deep down I'm an asshole. I put on this front and people I believe think I'm nice and sincere from a distance. But my true colors are sadly something else. Maybe writing and then reading this post myself will help change things. I don't know. The only thing fairly consistent I'm doing right now is working out (although my eating is slipping). I'm trying to get in shape. For what I don't know. For the physical embodiment of a fantasy life I want? Hmmm, I'm not certain. Oh and I do love my wife, but she does deserve more. She also wants a kid soon. I'm not 100% committed to that. And yeah...I have very mildly thought about ending it all at times if you get my drift. I was at Lone Rock here in Page, Arizona. I threw a rock off the edge of the canyon and it felt odd. Once I threw that rock it almost seemed like I was 10% closer to just throwing myself off and saying bye. Scary and weird at the same time. Btw did I mention I'm an asshole? Not that I want to be one. "Then don't". Yeah I can already hear you.

If anyone has noticed my recent absence and wondered about it, last week I ended up in the psyche ward of the local ER after suffering a breakdown. I've been diagnosed with panic disorder and moderate depression, and am currently undergoing a two week partial hospitalization program to deal with anxiety and depression in the wake of my mother's death earlier this year. I have a wonderful girlfriend and a great new job, but the stresses of both the relationship and work proved to be overwhelming in my present fragile state of mind.

I could definitely use all the support I can get right now. In particular, if anyone has any techniques for exploring and dealing with grief, please share them. I have always kept things bottled up and I'm finding it very difficult to process my grief and anxiety over my mother's illness and death.

Thanks everyone for your help.

Aye, you've been missed man. Not sure if it will help you, but when my father died, I, like you, kept a lot bottled up, but with some encouragement from friends channeled a lot of what I Was feeling into writing and drawing, putting down on the page what I didn't want to speak aloud. It allowed me to externalize things without forcing me to talk first, and once I had a handle on what I was feeling form seeing it on the page, I was batter able to actually talk about it with people who were willing to listen. I rarely shared what I actually wrote and drew until I was able to speak about it myself, but the very act of taking what was inside and moving it outside to the page helped me to process what I was feeling and wrap myself around it to be better able to deal with it moving forward. It allowed me to get it out, but at my own pace and without putting me in the awkward position of opening up to another person before I was ready to, which would have only added to the stress of dealing with it. It helped me, but everyone is different, so no guarantees man, but its something to think about.

-M