Depression and Alcoholism: Diary

August 22 8:42 pm. Here's the way things work. Somebody dies in an Ottawa home. And the moronic news station interviews ppl who live next door. Well this is what my neighbors will say? (since the news is so stupid as to see no relevance in neighbors that don't even know the person in question): I knew Louie's name, he seemed to drink a lot, (she won't mention that she heard me cry night after night after night), and her "kept to himself". Well that automatically makes someone evil. I keep to myself because I'm in pain every minute of every day, you bastards! I don't want to torture others like I'm tortured!. And I drink to try to kill the pain. And I don't go to the doctor because they dont' really know anything about it anyway, and I'm smart enough to realize that. Why is it that certain people seem to take 3-6 months off of work because they went to a doctor and the doctor recomended it? Well I don't fit into that classification. I should have been offered that in 1994, but I blew it; I just didn't have the connections/support/whatever it takes to get a reprieve from being psycho then, and I won't get one now. Others manage to do it, but not me.

If I see 2001 it'd be a miracle.

I'm surprised I've lasted this long. In late 1999 I was convinced that I'd waste mystelf on New Year's. Forunately I spent it with a friend. Now I'm convinced I'll never last past my 40th birthday. I really don't see any way in hell that that could happen. I'll be lucky if I see 37. I tried to do my 11 days of sobriety in August, but I can't. I feel all the time like I'm feeling dizzy or not connected with the world. Drinking doesn't stop it, it sort of covers it up a little. For the last 3 days I've been feeling really out of my mind, and things like keeping/doing my job seem secondary to staying alive. Even being nice to friends is secondary. I'm just struggling to stay alive, or something. I've been asked "why don't you just go see a doctor, and get that checkup?" Well I guess I'd rather die. I'd also rather die than let another so-called therapist make fun of my predicament. Well if my predicament is worth mocking, well what happens if it it kills me? Is it that funny then? I don't belong on this world, I've never belonged. It's inevitable. I'm writing this for posterity, coz I know that it's useless and I know that nobody in the world gives a flying fuck about anybody but themselves. But maybe I can stop someone else from going through a similar predicament, and maybe society will finally acknowledge there is a problem. I don't have any hope at all. I try to give my son as much as I can (and things that I never got) in hopes that he'll feel good about himself, but somehow I think that he'll always be plagued by a memory of a suicidal father.

I slept from 3 to 7 this morning and from 11 to 5 the day before.

July 12 10pm. I'm screwed. I've had a few beers. Well at least it's almost 10 days of sobriety. Guess what? There's a real problem with society. No hope, no help for people like me. Just let them get worse and worse, and drink and hide away until they do something stupid, and then we show up on the news and our neighbors say on the news "he just kept to himself", or something equally stupid said by people who have no connection at all to the person.

July 10 9pm. Damn I have a headache. I had one all of Saturday too. I was fine mostly over the past several days, except Saturday night (July 8), when I felt like my once a week nightly depression was setting in. Barb sent me a message on Saturday night "Are you mad at me? Can I call you?" All I could bring myself to say was "no, and no"; then I left. I was feeling like crap. So I went to bed; I get up early enough anyway. It was tough being around here on Saturday; the woman down the street was having a gettogether in her house of another family down the street, and some of her friends; and I really felt sad and lonely. People were going in and out all the time.

Barb called on Sunday and said she was talking to my sister and that (much to my surprise) my sister told her that most of my siblings have some depression too. And that my sister was taking meds too, I think. I didn't know for sure, but I had suspected certain of my siblings would have depression; partly because Mom was, and partly because of how they were. It was no surprise anyway. What's odd is that the people that you should be able to form a support group with are just completely aloof. I can see their point sort of... I don't feel like talking to anyone about it either. Apparently my sis said that you don't feel like it when it's happening, only when it's over do you talk about it.

And dammit, I feel it a bit now too. I noticed it when I came home and ate, and then wanted to eat more. And I watched TV afterward instead of doing something useful. Dammit.

I'm going to go get some chips. That may make me feel better. I'm supposed to do some programming for the Scramble game but I don't know when I'm going to get that done. I can only do it at work, but at work I just surfed the web.

July 6, 10pm(Sober 4 days). Funny, around 830 p.m. after my last entry, I was fine. Just like that. All the agony went away. And it's been 2 straight days I've been fine. Yesterday I met Johanne for lunch and we laughed quite a lot, something we haven't done in a long time. I also told her I have very little memory of June.

I've been getting up before 7 since I sobered up; which is part of what I have to do to keep control. I also have to control my own life; little things like controlling my phone, my time on the Internet, rather than have it control me.

I felt a little sad while at work at 6pm tonight, but I left and resolved to do some stuff.

I've been needing a hair cut for months, literally, and so I got a military style cut tonight, and I also had my glasses fixed (they were broken while playing basketball with my son, well over a month ago). Now I like the way I look again. For a few months, I didn't, nor did I care; I just isolated myself and avoided people. But now I feel quite well. I've been taking Paxil every evening around 6, which is when my depression used to be the worst, and I figure it may help (at least in my mind) to take it when I expect it to be the worst time of the day.

July 4, 7pm. Nobody told me that if I stopped taking my anti-depressants that I could die. Nobody told me what would happen if I started to drink while on meds. Nobody told me what to do if I felt so bad in the evenings that I didn't care what the hell I drank or popped, as long as the feeling goes away.

At work today I was completely out of my mind. Slurred speech, almost falling over. I'm surprised I was able to make it to work and home without being hit by a bus. I'm surprised I had the mental faculty to even get there.

So at work I was thinking, man if I had my Paxil, I'd pop one, and maybe that'd help. I thought about what's the "normal thing to do"; call the doc; get a prescription of something else; or at least ask what to do after leaving the meds for 6 days. But I just can't bring myself to do it. I can't bring myself to explain that the meds weren't good enough so I had to drink myself drunk for the last two weeks. I took a Paxil when I got home. Don't know what that's going to do. At least I've been sober for about 46 hours.

I don't know why but I'm going to isolate myself; turn off ICQ, not say a word in Scramble. I don't think I'm painting a very good picture of myself for Barb, and the Scramble players.

July 3. At 715 pm I was so totally screwed up; I tried so hard to resolve to stop drinking and I'm feeling so totally out of control - like my brain is moving. I don't know if it is from getting drunk every day for the last 2 weeks or stopping Paxil, on June 28.

So I called Barb; it was a big help. Now it's 8 and I can go back online again.

July 2. I ran out of beer. At 9pm I was so out of my mind I was grasping for something; anything, to take away the pain. I think it's the effects of two weeks of drinking myself into unconsciousness every night. I figured 6 beer would be ok for today. I started at 3, and had one every hour. I wasn't nearly drunk enough. I was feeling pretty suicidal. I eyed my antifreeze bottle, and swore that I'd never stoop that low. I did something I'd never thought I'd do. I took two extra-strength Tylenol with Codeine after those 6 beer. I don't know what effect it had, but I was sleepy by midnight. For me that was a scary and crazy thing to do, because I didn't have any idea what mixing those things would do to me. Tomorrow I'll start being sober. That was my plan. That will give me one full day before going to work; so I can work sober.