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DeeBear

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About DeeBear

  • Birthday 10/12/1972

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Mississippi
  • Interests
    My interests were old cars, reading, sci fi, and tropical plants. Now it's just recovery.

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  1. I'm having a depressed day today. I wish I could get motivated to do something but all I want to do is sit here. I really hope tomorrow is a better day. I've been thinking of a very dark time in my life lately. As a teenager I started self medicating, due to a combination of depression, and a terrible relationship with my mom. I was told to get a job, and then when I did, my parents complained that I was never home. I felt like no matter what I did, it wasn't good enough. I couldn't win. The only relief I had was self medication. It was the only thing that took away my anxiety enough to let me function. Someone I wasn't fond of even remarked surprisedly that I was cool when I was intoxicated. It reached a climax one night when I had to be brought home, unconscious, after medicating myself to the point that I could have died. The next day I woke up hung over and in serious trouble. Mom and I argued and fought all day. I don't remember everything that was said but I told mom that I wanted to die. "That's real mature" was her response. We argued about my dad, with her telling me "Your daddy was nothing but a drunk and a dope head". "At least he told me that he loved me" was my response. Mom broke down and started crying, and came over and put her arms around me, and I was flabbergasted. I didn't know who this person was who suddenly became caring. I had broken her. It was the moment my life changed, for the most part. Mom would still yell at me sometimes, but it wasn't a constant thing anymore. I still feel like I am never good enough, and I guess I always will. Mom and I have a great relationship now, and I feel guilty about what I put her through. I wonder sometimes if she ever feels guilty for how she treated me. We don't talk about those days. I guess I'll never know, because I don't want to bring it up. I do wish that my suicidal thoughts had been taken seriously, but that was a different time. I still self medicated for a long time after that, but eventually I quit on my own. I sometimes miss that numb feeling, and I wish my medications worked as well as my vices. Of course, when they wore off, I felt worse than not being medicated. I feel like I fixed my dysfunctional relationship with my mom, but I still have a dysfunctional relationship with the world. And the world doesn't care.
  2. I can SO relate to this. I often feel like my world is a bubble that has shrunk as people in my life moved on. I'm sorry you feel like that too.
  3. Yeah, I never applied to be a member of this club. It's more like a prison sentence than a club. I just wish I could get out on parole. I feel torn because I have a good relationship with my mom now, but sometimes I want to say something about those days... There are things I can't forget. I'm sure you understand. And I'm sorry you understand.
  4. It was a simple question, with a simple answer. But it brought my life into focus. Mom had just spit venom at me, something I'd gotten used to. I don't remember what for, and it really didn't matter. I'd gotten so used to being yelled at that it didn't even phase me, it was just the normal routine. It didn't even embarrass me that this outburst was in the yard, in front of several of my friends. Mom stomped away, and one of my friends turned to me and asked "Why does your mom hate you so much?" That question shook me. I told him that I guess I reminded her of my dad. Looking back now, my friends probably knew more of what I was going through than I realized. Mom yelled at me constantly. That is, unless my stepdad was around. She tried it in front of him and he backed her into a corner physically and told her to leave me alone, that I hadn't done anything. That's the only time I ever saw him get physical with my mom. I was thankful when my stepdad was around. When he wasn't I was just a target for mom's anger. Mom had a hyperactive thyroid and was irritable to begin with, but I felt like she resented me. I felt like I was a reminder of my dad, who she hated (and still does). Fortunately I had friends in the neighborhood and I spent very little time with my mom. Until we moved back home to Mississippi. Then I was trapped. My stepdad was always at work, so it was open season on me. Mom was ripping me to my grandma in the kitchen, and my grandpa got up and went into the kitchen and told mom to leave me alone. That was great, but when it was just me and her, there was no one to intervene. I used any excuse to get out of the house. I began self medicating a lot. I did a lot of things I regret. Anything to stop feeling. I wish I had been treated for depression back then, I might have had a better life and made better decisions. Mom and I have a good relationship now, but I still all too often feel that I am as useless as she treated me. It's no coincidence that we're both on antidepressants now. Too bad we weren't back then.
  5. I'm sorry that you get where I'm coming from. I think time only puts distance between us and our scars, but they're still there. When we're reminded of them, they draw close again. I miss many of the people I met on here who have moved on. I guess that's why I came back, hoping to "see" some familiar people. I'm glad you are still here Mary.
  6. Forty years ago today my dad died. He was 31; I was 10. I'd seen my dad in the hospital many times, but at that age, I didn't really appreciate that he didn't have much time. I still miss him terribly. We were living in a trailer park in Wentzville, MO at the time. It was a great park, with several lakes, and I spent a lot of time fishing, which was a great solitary activity, perfect for me as an anxious loner. I spent the whole day attempting to fish, but mostly I just cried, and I guess the owners of the park felt sorry for me, because they invited me to a Halloween party. That was the only time I ever saw their kids in the months we lived there. As usual, I didn't fit in, and I left the party early. I'll always remember the walk home that night, a night so dark I had trouble seeing the bridges across the lake I had to cross on my way home. It was then that I realized I just didn't fit in. I didn't know why yet, that would come in my late twenties when I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. That walk is burned in my memory as the first time I realized that I wasn't like other people, other kids. Every year at this time I remember that dark night, and that dark day, and I wonder how my life could have been different if my dad had lived, or if I had been treated for depression and anxiety earlier. I can't help but wonder how my life might have been better. I am blessed, and I appreciate that...but I just can't help but wonder.
  7. I know I am never alone, but this world sometimes seems so far away from my dad, my grandparents, and yes, God, that it's hard not to feel like I'm alone. IRL I struggle with avoidant personality disorder and it's difficult for me to establish relationships with others and I think that makes me miss those who are gone even more. Thank God I have my dog, lol.
  8. I used to love fishing, something about being near water calmed me. You're dealing with a lot, I'm glad you got some relief.
  9. My parents divorced when I was four or five, and my mom got a job working nights at a local factory. During the week I stayed with my grandparents, so I lost both parents in the divorce. But I digress. I was always close to my grandparents and I miss them terribly. My grandmother passed in 2009, officially. She had Alzheimer's so her mind checked out long before her body. It's a horrible disease, robbing you of your soul. My grandfather was displaying symptoms of it as well at the end. He was trying to hide it, but I couldn't help but see it. I'm glad he didn't get worse, but I would never have been ready to lose him. And I am still angry that an unconscious man was sent to rehab, where I was assured by a nurse that he was getting his medications, but ended up dying of sepsis because he wasn't. After he passed, the family gathered at his house, and I will always remember that first step through the door. I felt like I was stepping into some alien planet. The house that had always been warm and comfortable was now cold and empty. His energy was gone. That's when I realized that it was other people's energy that triggered my anxiety. I didn't realize back then how much being around my grandparents satisfied my need for social interaction. I wish I could find someone who didn't set off my anxiety, but that's rare. The night after he passed, I dreamed that I walked into his house and he was there. I told him "You're not supposed to be here, you're dead". He beamed a brilliant, otherworldly grin, and said "You're going to love it up here, it's great". Being alone is not the same as being lonely, but today I am lonely. Maybe I'm just meant to be alone. Most of the time I'm okay with that. Just not today.
  10. If there's one thing that sets me off, it's being called crazy. I'm sorry you have been through so much. Hopefully there's a better future ahead of you.
  11. Thanks for leaving such a thoughtful comment. I don't have anything in my background to compare with yours, but I do wish I could get rid of some of my 12 prescriptions. For me, the physical pain is under control without any controlled substances, which is a blessing. It's anxiety that drives me to the meds, but I don't seem to be able to find a happy middle ground between nervous wreck and zombie. I'm thankful that I have the meds, otherwise I would probably be self medicating, but I resent needing them. So I have a love/hate relationship with them. I've tried going off them before and it didn't go well. I know that I need them, but I don't want them. I know I should make peace with my need for the meds, but it's something I don't seem to be able to let go of. I hope I can someday let go of those feelings.
  12. The dreaded month of October will soon be here. My grandfather died on the 4th. My dad died on the 28th. A good friend died on the tenth. My uncle died on the fourteenth. And in between all that, I will turn 50 this year. 40 didn't bother me. Neither did 30. But 50 is really filling me with regret. I always dreaded my birthday because it reminded me of my dad's death when I was ten. Now the month of October is even more sad. I wish I could go to sleep and wake up in November. My medication has me in a quandary. At the level I am now, I suffer from anxiety. On the next step up I was a zombie. So that's my choice - nervous wreck or zombie. I may try stepping up again but that empty, zombified feeling wasn't going away when I tried before. It seems like every time I change meds they work for a few months and then start to slide until I'm right back where I started, so I may end up having to step up again. The suicidal thoughts are better, but still there - I don't seem to be able to escape them. And of course, the self loathing is still rearing its ugly head. And I'm revisiting all the regrets I have, and I have plenty. Dammit, I'm 50. And I could have done so much more with my life. Nobody wants to be a walking pharmacy when they grow up.
  13. Hi Mary, yes, your username was cookiecrumbs back in the day... I'm so glad that you have improved, though I know you still have your struggles. I miss our old friends around here, and still think of them from time to time. I would have replied to your comment sooner if I had gotten a notification, but I didn't...don't know why. You will be in my thoughts and prayers too! Dewayne
  14. Terrible day. I went to buy groceries and anxiety started kicking my ass. By the time I got out of the store I felt like I was being electrocuted. That same old feeling, like my body was vibrating uncontrollably. I was so tired by the time I got home that I passed out on the couch and slept really hard. Now, of course, I can't sleep. I'm so tired of being broken. I don't understand why it has to be this way. I just want to be okay. But I don't know how.
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