davaidavai

Shyness produces isolation; isolation produces feelings of deep inadequacy; deep inadequacy produces binge drinking, alcoholism produces professional failure and a whole new level of petulance; professional failure produces sobriety; sobriety produces shyness; shyness produces feelings of inadequacy; insecurity produces self-hatred; self-hatred produces sustained depression; lasting depression produces a fear of contaminating the lives of others; this fear creates a deeper, more profound experience of isolation in which theories of depression and release flower competing with daily thoughts of suicide, self-strangulation, leaping off buildings. Ocassional optimism dialogues with lasting despair. Meanwhile, the external environment of unemployment and isolation seems to enforce the notion that life more or less is a downward spiral in which the happy mercilessly eat life, climbing a ladder made of the bones of failures. Who has the flaming, brute force ego required to slog through? Happiness is animal, the ultimate, primitive emotion like a howly chimp crushing the skull of another chip against a rock, howling, bearing his teeth, beating his chest. 3 months without a drink come and go. I feel physically healthier; a healthy shell of crystalized anhedonia. My greatest pleasure is running on a treadmill. I met a stranger in a coffee shop yesterday who told me about his ideas, his passions. Rabbinic philosphy. A neurotic, overflowing Jew. I saw myself in him, told him that I always felt hated for who I was in the provincial, west-coast town where I grew up. The victim of a very quiet, very present form of disdain: the disdain the silent and self-contained feel for the vocal. I told him that all my pursuits up until now have been passionless gestures toward fitting in. No one believes in my writing which is the only thing I really care about. I'm a bad speller. I still seek conflict, as if my inner spirit is a mischevious trickster who understands that seeking conflict with others is another good way to crush my own better angels. I know that I'm no good for anyone. I sit browing the same internet stuff for hours: the endless loop between CNN, the NY Times and Espn reveals itself as its own special addiction. Everyone seems so balls out. Is that what life takes? I receive no responses to my resumes. None whatsoever. I don't want to inflict myself on my brother's family because all I have to offer is a depressing presence, an aura, a fog.

Dee74

I found that not drinking only solved my drinking problems davaidavai...all the other stuff I started drinking for was still there...but sobriety at least gave me the chance to work on all that other stuff

I had a very negative of my fellow man, and of the world.

Part of that was years of alcoholism - it still had its jaundiced grip on my perspective for several months after I quit.

Part of it was also I was still living the same kind of life for a while - it was a life that was easy to tolerate when I was drinking, but way less so now I was sober.

I needed to make changes.

I did some volunteer work - it felt good to me to do something for others, to connect with others, and feel a part of something rather than set myself outside it.

I also had some counselling - some of my 'stuff' was decades old - I needed some help there.

I worked hard.

Eventually I became aware of this weird feeling - I worked out eventually I was happy, content, and comfortable with who I was

5 years on, I still feel the same way.
I really hope you can find your own way there, Davaidavai

D

Dee74

double post.

D

RobbyRobot

Good to hear you care about your writing. I hope that continues, and that your writings eventually return the favor.

Words are so outta place when sharing misery with another person. I take exception to the idea that you're no good for anyone. You know yourself better than me of course, but I've been where you are, I felt as you feel, and came to the same conclusion about myself as you have about yourself.

The thing is, even though I was being honest and truthful, I was still wrong nonetheless about my being no good for anyone. You'll get through this, you know. This will pass, and better days are ahead. Truly.

Give your life time enough to catch up to your dreams and ideas for a better tomorrow. Soon enough our tomorrows become our todays.

I was completely dumfounded to discover just how really bent out of shape I was in my early sorbriety. Way more than I ever could have realized -- no wonder it took some time for my life to catch up and from there on I never had to look back.

I hope for all that is best for you, davaidavai.

instant

I hope you can find a way forward that you are content with. I found alcohol was not a performance enhancing drug, but in the end it is only a means of escape, from what?

I like your writing

betterlate

I'm a bad speller.

Not much evidence for that.

davaidavai

2nd day of 10 mg's Prozac. I'm making a go of it. It feels good, like quitting drinking, a new life change and addition, a new attempt. It felt good talking to the doctor, felt good telling my brother that I was trying something new. Maybe the only way out is every which way, and this is one new way. I think it's pretty clear though that my problem is less drinking and more depression. The drinking and depression merely teamed up for many years.

RobbyRobot

Thats a great change in altitude, man. Good to hear you so up on yourself and your efforts to do something new and make a good go of it!

Awesome.

heathersweeds

This is great davaidavai! You took a step forward to take care of your mental health. This is so important but unfortunatly we or "I" let this go for too long. Good on ya mate!!!! You are making such good choices!!

davaidavai

This is really interesting. Of sensative body chemistry, I can already feel the effect of my half dose of prozac daily. Today, walking around the city, thoughts of the past, the detrimental effects of my depression came flooding in. It was quite a struggle for a moment to maintain. I spent a train ride recalling positives from my past. It was a little scary. My mind was flying, not at all like the descriptions you hear about being dumbed down.

I imagine I'm not feeling the full effects, but the lows are suddenly gone. I feel somewhat muffled and spacy. Hunger comes but without the foul mood. I find myself saying 'like' and 'you know' in conversation more than usual, but I'm much more aware of social nuances. The burden is less; I see things clearer, or more vividly, with more of a sense of compassion and patience. I suspect that maybe I have been so absorbed in saddness, I haven't really been available to see the beauty in passing strangers, in common human endevours.

On the other hand, I have less tolerance for certain things. I changed seats to get away from someone listening to his walkman loudly. The sportsbar this evening was ridiculous. It was trippily nasty. I just left.

This is really, really interesting. Like a chemically induced vantage from which to see my former state, to reflect.

My writing has changed too. Much more dialogue. It's usually so description heavy. It's just rolling out.

The dreams are a little strange. For example, I dreamed I was bitten by a flying leach and that through the hole its bite left, I could see a green pool. I suppose this is an expression of anxiety over the medication.

GirlFromCO

It's funny... I was reading your original post and was thinking about what a great writer you were even before I got to the part where you said you like to write. That's a good sign, I think. Count me as a believer.