#191: My Chemical Romance, Part I

If you were to ask me right now how do I feel I’d reply, “Better than Gary Coleman.” A bad joke, to be sure, but hey, who gives a fuck? Lately things have been going along at a rapid pace in some ways, but sluggish in others – it’s hard to find that perfect equilibrium, a battle I’ve struggled with for a while now. I honestly thought that I was getting better, but recent events show that, clearly, I’m not. And that upsets me.

I’ve had to cope with a lot lately, but, such is life. The past year has been hellish in parts. I’ve dealt with, and am still dealing with, the deaths of my father and a very close friend, being removed from probably the one job that I was perfectly suited for by a cretin and being punished by questioning it all. And there’s more, much more, that I tend not to share with anyone but keep very close. It’s gotten better in some ways, but worse in others. I’m dealing with being investigated for a number of frivolous allegations which I won’t go into detail here, suffice to say that the bulk of them appear to me, and others, to be just accusations designed to force my resignation – seriously, you should see and/or hear about some of this, but all in good time I guess. But that’s their problem and not mine. My personal issues worry me more than any professional ones.

In the past twelve months I’ve had some incredible highs and some deep lows. Again it becomes hard to reconcile the highs and lows, but I do my best to enjoy the highs and hide the lows. Now I’m told that’s not the best attitude to have, but hey. My mania has reared it’s ugly head and after a lengthy, and emotional, consult with my doctor (one of the best around actually) the decision is to try some medication designed to level me out a bit and get me back to what I enjoy doing. It’s not a permanent move, but it is a new one for me. So, it’s hello to 60mgs of Cymbalta daily.

Frankly I am scared to a fairly large degree, but I am enough of a realist to know that when your significant other writes a heartfelt letter to one’s doctor which makes one get emotional, then something needs to change. I don’t think I’m a bad person, but I’m not coping. I cry a lot, at random. Here’s an example – I’m probably the only person who cries during Deep Impact. What part? When Tea Leoni and the dude who plays her father are on the beach. They embrace as an unrealistically large tsunami approaches, and she snuggles into her father’s arms and simply says, in a pathetic childlike voice, “Daddy.” Gets me everytime. I’m tearing up thinking of it. I tend to see what I first thought were random things that make me cry, but have found the common link – loss of a parent. Damn my drunken father, he impacted more than I thought. At some point I know that I’ll fully deal with those emotions, but I have to wait.

I get irritable at minor things. How minor? Let me give you a hint – don’t chew loudly near me, not even as a joke and, for Christs sake, don’t deliberately annoy me. Those who do, deliberately, tend to receive the full force of my venom, although I think I displayed considerable restraint in the face of deliberate antagonisation recently. I find it near impossible to drive through the city. I am hoping that this current medication will relive that by ensuring that I’m not allowed to drive, but time will tell. I find myself despising people for no apparent reason.

I don’t sleep, but then that’s nothing normal, cut lately I wake up earlier and can’t get back to sleep. I’ve not got any great appetite, and I am losing weight, but I attribute that to a sudden exercise programme that I’ve recently started. That bothers me. There’s more, far more. But what really scared me was my most recent DASS test. When I first walked into my doctor I did the DASS test and found out that I was suffering from moderate depression, mild anxiety and mild to moderate stress. That was around twelve months ago. Yesterday I did the DASS again and discovered that my depression levels haven’t moved (good), my anxiety levels have increased from mild to moderate (manageable) but my stress levels are nearly off the chart (no great surprise there). That, combined with the other symptoms, and also the realisation that my current state is affecting my significant other in ways I can't fathom, have led me to this point, the point where I have to now make things change, and to assist that change I need a bit of a boost.

Fingers crossed. I’ll keep you all informed. I am nervous about this, but I’m about to pop the first of what I hope will be the start of a fuller recovery.  And yes, I'm well aware that I'm not the only ship, adrift on this ocean...but understand if I don't instantly reply to calls, messages and emails, and if I begin to pick and choose where I go and who I see for a while.  It's all good, I just need time.