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If you’re going to help, then fucking help! – How to really help someone with depression

help

When you’re down in a hole you’re constantly reminded that logic will get you out. Every single person you know of will all of a sudden be the voice of reason; you need some sun, get back on your bike, move countries, if only they knew that every single fibre of your human being KNOWS that any, if not all of these suggestions are completely valid, BUT, when you’re in the hole it’s dark, you’re bent over, debilitated and unable. When you’re in a hole logic makes no sense at all.

Part of getting out of the hole is to stop ignoring the people who care about you and start accepting help. I’m pretty much out of the hole now and have had loads of clarity on the subject of accepting help, so hopefully by sharing these experiences I can help others help others.

For whatever reason I had a new credit card issued at some point. The new card had a new number which threw out the direct debiting of my bills. The bills piled up and I was being charged interest as I just couldn’t get around to opening mail. My mum (bless) decided to take over and she’s been getting payments up to date and reconnecting direct debit services. She noticed that Energy Australia failed to access my mains reading (out on the street) and for 3 months in a row charged me an estimate, but on the 4th month (being last month) they got access to my mains box for a reading and sent through an accurate bill PLUS a bill of over $1200 to pay for the excess use of energy (as they estimated way low for the 3 months they couldn’t reach my mains box).

The latest bill, and the additional bill for the 3 months I was undercharged, was taken out of my account direct debit BEFORE the date on the invoice which Mum wasn’t happy about so she asked if she could come over, get me to call Energy Australia to allow her access to my account so she could fight with them on the phone. Keep in mind at this time I had no ideas what she was talking about. I just snappily went through security questions with the Indian lady on the other end of the line and passed my mum the phone.

At the same time as mum was on the phone I had got a worker outside ripping off sheets of corrugated plastic off my deck roof. The wind here is something else at times and my roofs been falling apart a sheet at a time. I’ve been meaning to fix this for a year or more but just haven’t been able to get around to it. Instead I’ve just dealt with the flapping and crashing noises the sheets make on windy days (deafeningly loud btw but when you’re in a hole you just mix it in). I’ve got construction next door too. They knocked their house down and are now just at the end of a 1.5yr new home build. It’s been noisy for so long, in retrospect it can’t have been good for me to sleep in my lounge room which is closest to the flapping roof and construction next door!

I’m trying to zone out and play my computer game. Woosah. I got this. 2hrs later mum gives up and Dianne decides to give it a go. She jumps in there and starts blasting whoever it is on the other end of the line at Energy Australia. I see and hear something I don’t really want to see. If the girl I’m seeing is speaking to another human being in that way then surely in future she could speak to me in that way too? Yucky thoughts. I decide to stop everything and ask mum what the fuck is going on. She explains the dealio and I lose my shit.

Dianne was arguing for no reason at all as everything was right and as it should be. IE: Energy Australia undercharged me for 3 months as they had to make a guesstimate because the house construction next door blocked them from reaching my meter panel. I now was sent a bill to pay for the energy I used during those 3 months. For various reasons mum was angry. I get that, but what did she want? A refund of some sort? An apology? I wasn’t so sure in the end but I pulled both Dianne and mum aside and with a deep breath and in a very calm fashion I let them both know that OK; I get that you’re trying to help me, but if you’re going to help me, THEN FOR FUCKS SAKE PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME! I had to make it clear that the stressful vibe that was my mum and Di blasting nastiness over the phone started at 10am and went all the way through to 2PM and I needed them to note that despite good intentions, none of their efforts helped me at all.

The example above might be overkill, but it was a real moment of clarity for me. Sometimes when you’re in a hole you’re in your head and you just can’t reply because replying takes effort and when you put effort in you get grumpy and start blasting people. Another classic example; Di and I are in the car. Hey I’m out and about! Mum calls Di, Di puts mum on speakerphone and Mum asks if I’d like any lunch. I’m indifferent but hey, sure. Mum then asks what do I want for lunch and I almost lose my shit. I shut up because I know that’s the best thing to do when I get like this. Di noticing my dummy spit takes the call off speaker and speaks to mum, a few seconds later Di asks me that mum wants to know what I’d like to have for lunch…

I lose my shit again. FFS why is this so fucking hard?! Get me lunch, or not, it really doesn’t matter, but if you’re gonna help me then FFS just please, please fucking help me.

So I hope these examples can help to further understand how you can more easily help a friend who’s down. For me, it took a while to get going on my own power again, but you know you’re getting out of the hole when you start getting mad at the help, so mad because you feel that if you want shit done then you’ve got to do it yourself. That’s motivation right there! If that isn’t a wake up call then I don’t know what is!

PS: Sadly this reads better on medium than it does on my own blog (compare reading thew above to the same exact copy but on medium: https://medium.com/@justinfox_30083/how-to-really-help-someone-with-depression-d8705f1b346d). I’m keen to re-work this blog to make it easier to read (old man now, this small type is really doing my eyes in lol).

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Ice-cream makes everything better

scar

I’ve got a scar across my left eyebrow from an incident I had in Primary School. I’m not sure exactly how old I was at the time (I was at Kensington Public School from years 1-3, so I assume I was 7-8 years old), but I remember a couple of kids had formed a tank/battering ram with their bodies; each kid had one arm around each other and the other arm pointing at me in a fist (thus army tank like?!).

They shoved me into the toilet blocks and cracked my head open. I remember seeing their faces in shock. I remember looking down at both my hands which were covered in blood. I remember a teacher rushing over to me. I have vague blurry images of being in an ambulance, but in the front seat, not the back.

I remember seeing my mum at the hospital and a nurse asking if they turned the sirens on for me (they didn’t). I then remember having a cloth put over my eyes whilst I listened to nurses as they stitched me up. I couldn’t feel any pain, but felt immense pressure on my head every time a stitch went through.

I remember them talking about my mum outside, and one of them saying an ice-cream will fix me right up. I remember getting that ice-cream too, and my grey school shirt was unbuttoned all the way down and my Clarks Koala singlet was bloody to my belly.

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Antidepressants – an update

Just an update on my journey with antidepressants (if you missed the first feature, you can check it out here: Antidepressants).

A LOT has happened since my last update. Yesterday I caught up with my psychiatrist Dr Hyde (it was his first day back from holidays). Dianne came with me this time (it’s been Mum every other time) and as soon as we sat down in his little office we were on like Donkey Kong. Rapid fire, that’s what it felt like really. A whole lot of heavy information regurgitating and bouncing off the walls.

We talked about swapping out Efexor for another antidepressant that doesn’t have much of an impact on my libido, but truth is I had already run my own experiments with Efexor and had come to the conclusion that I didn’t need it. I was initially on 75mg of Efexor/day. When I first saw Dr Hyde early November we doubled the dosage and I started taking it in the morning rather than night. I started to have low libido issues about this time. I literally couldn’t even come to porn. I then upped my dosage to 300mg/day and I was waking up without a hard on at all, and that alone was making me more depressed than anything! One day I decided to see what 600mg of Efexor would feel like; the next morning I literally woke up with pins and needles in my dick which hung around for most of the day (I even had troubles peeing that day).

At the same time as all of the above I smashed my bong (with my Dads hammer making it a little more significant perhaps?) and decided to go cold turkey on weed. I coughed up a shitload of dark hard phlegm over the first few days and amazingly the freaky noises I was hearing and feeling in my chest whenever I took a deep breath were completely gone (making me realise that bongs might not be THAT bad as it only took a week for the shit to come out?!). I was also sweating profusely all day and worse at night where I’d wake up freezing every few hours in a pool of sweat (and have to change clothes or move to the couch as my mattress was soaked).

Going cold turkey on weed was hard. I lost it more than a few times. I caved in on day 7 and smoked a spliff. I was of-course instantly happy, smiling and even laughing again. What was different though was that one spliff made primarily of tobacco with a sprinkling of leaf was enough to get me SO high. For a few days I smoked 3 jays a day, one day I cut it down to just one jay that day but the sweats came back hard and so too the yucky bits of me I didn’t like.

I watched an opinion piece on YouTube comparing bongs to joints. The guy reminded me that bongs are dirty things! I remembered that the bongs I smoked in high school were made out of Mr Juicy bottles and bits of hose we cut from someone’s lawn. Over time I somehow convinced myself of glass bongs being a legitimate respectable thing, but I can’t really see them being anything but filthy right now.

This train of thought really needs expanding as it’s all still very new to me; but I’ve somehow gotten off bongs and it truly does feel like “just like that”. For the past few days I’ve smoked no more than 3 weak jays a day. Something has definitely changed.

So back to Dr Hyde. All the above came out during yesterdays session. He doesn’t believe I am suffering from depression anymore, instead we’re going to focus on my anxiety or bipolar-like symptoms. IE: my mood swings. We’re increasing my dosage of Quetiapine before bed to get a better night’s sleep and he also suggested that since Quetiapine is not addictive, I can quite comfortably take more as needed during the day. IE: If I feel like smoking weed I could replace the weed with a dose of Quetiapine. Scary thought huh? But hey, happy to give it a go.

It’s now the morning of the first night on a larger dose of Quetiapine and for the first time in a very long time I’ve had a solid 9hrs of sleep (I’ve been averaging 4hrs of broken sleep usually and have had rare occasions of 5hrs sleep maybe even a 6hr sleep semi-recently). I woke up high as a kite. I felt absolutely ripped but my head is sharp. It’s loud up there too, very. I’ve been spamming social media all morning. I’ve been writing this… that brings us up to date. My next meeting with Dr Hyde is in 4 weeks from now. Dianne, who has literally been taking care of me daily for the past 2 weeks leaves tomorrow. It’s going to be interesting to see how I go alone over the next few weeks.

Reminder to self – I’m still in a hole within a hole. The weed addiction and depression is one thing, but there are bigger things that I know I need to deal with too. That I’m not in denial about.

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I’m Done

Caught up with an old mate the other day, slowly but surely I’m letting people back into my life.

Funny thing is; when he turned up it didn’t take too long to realise that he was the one with the huge issues. A few beers in and he admitted that he (like many of my mates who actually come over to visit me irl) actually used the invite as an opportunity to talk to me about his problems.

Funny, right?! I mean, here I am, more fucked up than ever, and yup, even when I’m down I still somehow manage to pick people up and they always leave my door in a much better state than when they entered.

It got a little scary last year when I kept on repeating “I’M DONE” out loud, scary then that this mate of mine was saying the same shit in front of me. He’s calling out for help, it’s obviously he does need some, and I have a couple of suggestions for him lined up, but I know I can’t take his problems on board, if anything I’m just going accept that he has issues right now, and I’ll try to connect him to a few people I know that might be able to help him out professionally.

/rant.

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Sometimes it’s OK to be Crazy

I’ve spent a fair bit of time to discovering and processing this midlife crisis thing. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s some sort of enlightenment, an unlearning of everything I ever thought I knew. Over the past few years I’ve been freeing myself from the rules of society for my own mental and emotional benefit. I’ve become more detached from society in order to save my own health and sanity. IE:

In order to stay sane I’ve had to become what others call crazy?!

But I’m not crazy. My eyes are open and I speak the truth, people can’t handle that so they call me crazy! I realise how ridiculous society is and I now more clearly see through the bullshit that we’re all constantly shovelled.

I’m merely waking up and ultimately I have to just embrace it.

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You get me Closer to God

holybible

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11 years of Facebook…

Logged on the Facebook today, they had a video letting me know it’s been 11 years since I signed up for Facebook…

I have no huge regrets in life so far, but one of my fears has been to look back on my life and realise I spent too much of it on Facebook.

I’ve been in a bad place the last few months. I had Ved over recently and at some point we whipped out newspaper articles I featured in back in my design days (2000-2001-ish). In my interviews I often said I wanted to retire at 30, move up north, learn how to surf and be a bum, basically.

I’m 43 now and I think I’m going through the motions of letting go and easing up. I’ve been so hungry to make so many marks in the wall, for so long. My Dad died when I was 18. He was 47 and ever since then I’ve given myself the same expiry date to do everything I want to do in life, and that I feel I’ve done and then some.

I feel a little bit like I’ve climbed Mount Everest, and now that I’ve finally made it to the top I’m realising that I feel no elation at all, instead I’m freaking out about the journey back down the mountain.

For once in my life I’m not really sure what I want to do next, and yeah it’s freaking me out. I feel like I need to find a new reason. Whatever it is I’m pretty sure about one thing; I need a change and this change has to be for me and me only.

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Stay Young. Stay Hungry.

me
I’m fucking 43 years old next month. 43!!!!!!!! Thanks to Nana and Cee for making me feel good this week by telling me I’m looking good. My sweet AF uber driver took it a step further and said I looked mid 20’s!!!

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Julius is in town!

lunch
Mum jammed between 2 gay guys!

Julius (who I hung out with in HK in April last year) is in town! He’s rocking a pair of ZEN sunnies BTW ;)

PS: You can check out Julius’ performance on Australia’s got Talent 2013 here.

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Cocaine is a hell of a drug

rack

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