That monster Depression.

Discussion in 'Social Place' started by Shadowprophet, Oct 25, 2017.

  1. Ras

    Ras Honorable

    Messages:
    408
    :eek: What?! A way to what?!

    Drugs is no good my friend.
     
    Last edited: Oct 27, 2017
  2. Kchoo

    Kchoo At Peace.

    Messages:
    2,345
    Who said we are supposed to be happy all the time anyway?
     
    • Agree Agree x 1
  3. CasualBystander

    CasualBystander Celestial

    Messages:
    2,213
    Hikikomori ( "acute social withdrawal") is Japanese for someone who hides in their house.

    If you hide in your house you are a Hikikomori.

    Almost one percentage of Japanese hide in their house. It is starting to become the new "normal".
     
    • Thanks Thanks x 1
  4. Ras

    Ras Honorable

    Messages:
    408
    Yup they hide, it's their way of handling shame or to save their honour i suppose.
     
  5. notdej

    notdej Honorable

    Messages:
    494
    That is one thing you ARE NOT my friend!!! IMO you have a great mind. I enjoy reading your thoughts- always have.

    You feel you're insignificant when in reality you're not- & this is the illness! It is possible to get away from it.. I did;)
     
    • Awesome Awesome x 2
  6. starsfall

    starsfall Believer

    Messages:
    381
    My father brought me to a doctor when I was 15 because he said he thought I was depressed. My father has a Masters in psychology and loves to pretend like he knows what's going on in everyone's mind. I did feel like I had lost touch with reality and everything around me, for sure. At this point, my mom was diagnosed with MS and leukemia and was fighting a losing battle, and my dad was never home. He himself was going to AA meetings, but I still found empty paper bags and bottles in both his company and personal vehicles.

    I did everything they couldn't, I cleaned the house, inside and out, took care of the dog, watched my nieces when my sister couldn't. My aunt moved in for awhile because she was also an alcoholic, like my father, but lost her apartment so my grandmother asked my father if my aunt could live with us for a bit. She was sort of distant, but tried to make small talk with me sometimes. She had work and school, so whenever I got home from school I was typically alone every weekday.

    I met a girl in school, we got close pretty quickly and ended up dating for about a year, and then she ended up moving to Texas and my dad decided he didn't want me in public school anymore, so he opted to homeschool me, however this just ended up being me reading textbooks myself and contacting the teachers on my own.

    The girl and I ended up deciding to try and do a long-distance thing, I was crazy about her and I thought she felt the same. Her father, who she lived here with, was abusive, so her grandmother sent her to live with her biological mother in Texas. We Skyped, talked on the phone, and kept in contact regularly. Eventually, one of her friends contacted me and told me my girlfriend had met someone else down there and had already entered a relationship with them, and her friend thought I deserved to know. I ended up confronting her somewhat, and then just ignoring all calls and texts from her.

    After this point, I befriended an old friend from middle school, and hangout with him, his girlfriend, and our other friend pretty often. We would typically hangout at an abandoned water pump station behind our local library, on a river and drink and smoke pot. Like I said, I lost touch with reality for awhile. A year or two later, I engaged in a "physical-interaction-only" with a girl I met at a party, and started working part-time. I stopped drinking, and eventually stopped smoking, too. The entire time I was always fighting an urge to call my ex in Texas and tell her I forgive her, just as an excuse to see how she was doing. I don't even know why I cared. Eventually, she did text me and I replied and we talked for about a week back and forth about what was new with us and she apologized and I told her I forgave her a long time ago.

    I'm not sure if it was depression, but I woke up everyday feeling like a giant wet blanket was keeping me down and telling me to just stay in bed, that there was nothing better to do. Nothing to really live for anymore. My dad tried sending me to a therapist friend of his, but I never showed up to any of the sessions, and a few years later, have been in a pretty alright place. Depression is a huge burden, and comes as a different demon to every person, but the only one, I believe, that can make you feel better, is yourself.

    (Please don't listen to previous posters and do meth.. I've watched numerous people I care about shrivel away because of drugs like that, it's not worth it)
     

Share This Page