WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?
One of my modem-borne friends checked in with this:
How you doing? I read you falling post with some concern since it is kind of cryptic.
Well, "Cryptic" is my middle name, right after "Risk-averse". But here is my answer:
I was going to post this, but it seemed too much "all about me" even for a blog. I have been in treatment for depression for MANY years now, and in general things have gone pretty well, although I think what we are really dealing with these days is not having dealt with the root problem -- which is where the FINALLY "taking up the cross" issue comes in. [The radio psychologist Dr. Joy Browne is fond of saying, "Fish or cut bait". She's worth finding if you haven't heard her --- a real hoot.]
I reached the point a while ago, after a year of unemployment and eating up a good chunk of my savings, where I could barely get out of bed in the morning. So, my beloved doctor decided to try a new medication [Effexor]; it was actually one that had rescued a close relative of mine when she went through a rough patch a few years ago. So I said, why not?
Well, I went from not being to get out of bed to not being able to stay there. I went from sleeping a lot more than 8 hours a day to sleeping less than 5, sometimes less than 3, and sometimes just staying up all night. Without crashing. And the amount I could sleep seemed to be decreasing over time. And for the first time in my life [I think] I got really MANIC. Couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop chewing my fingernails OFF, etc. And the mania seemed to keep increasing. And wouldn't you know it, that's when I discovered the wonderful world of Drew and the Mind of Bear, who got me into this gig to begin with. So the entire blog event has been the fruit of a wildly unbalanced mind. Eventually I got off the poisonous stuff, and have since resumed something of normality, whatever that is, though the question does arise: when what you eat determines who you are at such a basic level, who the hell are you? Still chewing on that one.
Into this bed of roses walked The One Called Piggo. Some mildly flirtatious remarks set me off like a house on fire, and within a week or so I was ready to leave home, go hunt him down, nail his feet to the floor, and weep on his shoulder for ten to twelve hours a day. And probably spend the other ten to twelve... well, you can read all about that in the March edition of "Troll At Sea". That was my falling -- and it was really free-fall. If Piggo had had the least ill intention, he could have done ANYTHING to, with, or over me. The beauty of the horror, if I may say so, that I am no longer in free-fall or trying to drag people into it with me, and he is, with time off for deep breathing and getting on with the less hysterical needs of his job, wife, and kids, still in touch. Now tell me that's not grace. [The grace of God, as you (we?) Catholic-type boys know, is undeserved good from God.] My life is full of it to overflowing. You are part of that, just so you know.
Does that answer your question?
If it's more than you wanted to know, that is just Too Damn Bad.
Yr
Troll
How you doing? I read you falling post with some concern since it is kind of cryptic.
Well, "Cryptic" is my middle name, right after "Risk-averse". But here is my answer:
I was going to post this, but it seemed too much "all about me" even for a blog. I have been in treatment for depression for MANY years now, and in general things have gone pretty well, although I think what we are really dealing with these days is not having dealt with the root problem -- which is where the FINALLY "taking up the cross" issue comes in. [The radio psychologist Dr. Joy Browne is fond of saying, "Fish or cut bait". She's worth finding if you haven't heard her --- a real hoot.]
I reached the point a while ago, after a year of unemployment and eating up a good chunk of my savings, where I could barely get out of bed in the morning. So, my beloved doctor decided to try a new medication [Effexor]; it was actually one that had rescued a close relative of mine when she went through a rough patch a few years ago. So I said, why not?
Well, I went from not being to get out of bed to not being able to stay there. I went from sleeping a lot more than 8 hours a day to sleeping less than 5, sometimes less than 3, and sometimes just staying up all night. Without crashing. And the amount I could sleep seemed to be decreasing over time. And for the first time in my life [I think] I got really MANIC. Couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop chewing my fingernails OFF, etc. And the mania seemed to keep increasing. And wouldn't you know it, that's when I discovered the wonderful world of Drew and the Mind of Bear, who got me into this gig to begin with. So the entire blog event has been the fruit of a wildly unbalanced mind. Eventually I got off the poisonous stuff, and have since resumed something of normality, whatever that is, though the question does arise: when what you eat determines who you are at such a basic level, who the hell are you? Still chewing on that one.
Into this bed of roses walked The One Called Piggo. Some mildly flirtatious remarks set me off like a house on fire, and within a week or so I was ready to leave home, go hunt him down, nail his feet to the floor, and weep on his shoulder for ten to twelve hours a day. And probably spend the other ten to twelve... well, you can read all about that in the March edition of "Troll At Sea". That was my falling -- and it was really free-fall. If Piggo had had the least ill intention, he could have done ANYTHING to, with, or over me. The beauty of the horror, if I may say so, that I am no longer in free-fall or trying to drag people into it with me, and he is, with time off for deep breathing and getting on with the less hysterical needs of his job, wife, and kids, still in touch. Now tell me that's not grace. [The grace of God, as you (we?) Catholic-type boys know, is undeserved good from God.] My life is full of it to overflowing. You are part of that, just so you know.
Does that answer your question?
If it's more than you wanted to know, that is just Too Damn Bad.
Yr
Troll
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