Tuesday, July 6, 2010


Advance warning: This post will be an exploration of what I'm going through personally right now and what might possibly be the cause(s) of what I'm going through. Not really interested in giving my spin on what's happening in the world today. Also, I'm not really looking for people to start calling me and checking on me. I'm okay, just having a difficult couple of days.

I'm having trouble sleeping. I'm tired and sleepy, yet I can't sleep. It drives me nuts. As is common with other cases of depression, I'm relatively sure that my difficulties sleeping are related to my depression. I still don't think my depressive episodes are bad enough to warrant being medicated. I am backed in that opinion by the therapists I have seen. Of course, one of those therapists thought I was gay, or at the very least bi-sexual. So, who knows, maybe I do need to be medicated. But I don't think so. It's not constant.

Another contributing factor to my depression is my work schedule. I work the graveyard shift at a motel. For the most part I enjoy my job. There are things that irritate me about it, but hey, each job has its own irritations. Something I've noticed lately. When I'm at work I can't wait for the work week to be over. When I'm enjoying my days off, I can't wait to get back to work. My work schedule also is a direct cause of a large part of my depression.

I'm rather lonely. I tried to watch "Where the Wild Things Are" last night. I didn't even make it through 15 minutes. I was relating to the main character's loneliness and sense of isolation just a little too much. I will eventually watch the whole thing, and probably enjoy it, but not last night.

I have lots of friends. Unfortunately, my friends have busy lives and it's difficult to get together and hang out with them. Also, my work schedule makes it even more difficult to find a time when I could get together with a friend or two. Also, many of my friends don't live in the same city or even the same state as I do. There's a couple that don't live in the same country. So I get lonely. Most of the time I'm perfectly comfortable with spending lots of time on my own. I'm good at it. I enjoy it. I like reading. But sometimes I just want to be able to call somebody up and say, "Hey, want to catch a movie, or dinner, or just chat?"

Sometimes I also feel like I'm the only one making an effort to develop and extend the friendship. If I'm the only one that calls and says, "Let's do something," then after a couple attempts I feel like I'm being a little too persistent, or even possibly annoying. And yes, I recognize that this is my own perception, but if I'm never contacted to do anything, then I feel like I'm the only one making an effort. Does that make sense? I'm very tired and I'm not sure if I'm making any sense. It's possible that I've received invitations before and not been able to go and I'm just not remembering at the moment. Bleh.

Anyway, it all adds up to Adam being depressed and doing my best to maintain my emotions at an acceptable level. I don't really want any calls about this post. I like receiving phone calls and I like talking to my friends and family, but I don't want the sort of calls that start with or include, "I read your last post and I was really worried so I thought I should call." That's not the point of this particular post.

I guess it's pretty much just a venting post. If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with it. Impressive stamina.



refugee from reason said...

"I'm having trouble sleeping." I take Ambien from time to time, seems to work, but if you're not into scripts, years ago, when my Mother was alive (she was a psychiatrist), and I had trouble sleeping (just gone through a divorce and had sole custody of my kids), she said, "You'll sleep when you sleep...until then, you'll be tired...live with it for a bit."

Depression: Tough one, but presumably it's not clinical. In absolute candor, I tend to watch Marx Brothers movies, or some romantic comedy (great and snappy dialog), losing myself in it and that often takes the edge off depression.

If you think the depression or mood swings are serious, see a psychiatrist, as they can prescribe medication, as you know. Therapists are fine, but again, to quote my Mother, "If you have to see a therapist more than 20 times, you're not working or the therapist isn't doing his/her job."

Gay/Bi-sexual: Only you know this and frankly, it's not something to worry about. If you are, just watch a little TV -- it seems to be trendy these days.

Friends: When I covered Vietnam I soldier told me "...a friend is someone who watches your back on a night patrol." My view is that if your friends aren't like that, they're "acquaintances." I'm 67 and can count my true friends on one hand.

Work: I abhor it, but I've got to eat and I look forward to it, then, while working abhor it. Sometimes I curse my parents for not being fabulously wealthy.

Life: . . . is just life.

I hope you feel better.

Adam said...

Thank you! I am feeling better. About 11 hours of sleep really helped.

Thank you for your thoughts on the points of this post. I'm taking steps to improve and your insights are helpful.

I don't think my depression is clinical. The one psychiatrist I saw didn't think so either. Of course, she was the one who thought I was gay. Go figure.

refugee from reason said...

A good psychiatrist, like a good woman, is hard to find. As I said, my Mother was a psychiatrist, in fact, one of the first female shrinks in New York City. She was a bit offbeat, to say the least.

One of my closest friends, drove home with me from college. He's a tall, remarkably handsome fellow and well talented, a French Horn and Piano player, who ultimately became an architect and is now a sculpture, living in a very small midwestern town.

In any event, we showed up at my home, then in DC, and he approached Mother and asked if they could talk. Now, my friend towered over Mom, as she was a shade over 5' and he, a bit over 6'.

"I've been very depressed," he told her. "Take your right hand out of your pocket," she almost barked. He did. "Now," she said, "grab your balls." He looked at her oddly, puzzled. "Do it," she said. And he did.

Mom then told him, "Now, Charles, think about what you're doing."

He broke into laughter, relieved.

Obviously, it's not all as simple as that, but it does illustrate how much of depression can be di miminimus and relieved by chipping away at a single small thought, replacing with another.

Me, I like the Marx Brothers.

As to the issue of homosexuality, I'm not a shrink, only the son of one (of course, the other half of that couple was a rather adventurous reporter, so that should give you some idea of my psyche). I was raised in Greenwich Village, then a haven for the gay community; and one of my oldest friends, with whom I worked at the newspaper is gay, and I've a few others. My friend, incidentally, has been with the same fellow for 30 years, probably the longest relationship I know of.

That aside, it seems a bit precipitous for a psychiatrist to make that diagnosis so quickly. You know who you are, I'm sure; and you know your own sexuality or preferences. That's the only thing that counts.

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Deleted comments were repeats. Apparently Blogger reposted them.