Suicidal taboo

[IDrinkaRum]

It's hard to just announce, "hey! I have a problem! Please listen to me!" Especially when you have a mother & sister who tell you everyday that you should be thankful to have a husband who works Monday to Friday to "bring home the bacon", and that I have a beautiful baby girl who loves you.

I had 2 people whom I thought were my friends. Only after I told them that I was seeing someone because I had PPD for so long it turned into Depression, plus I was diagnosed with Emotional & General Anxiety, and OCD, they were like: "Yeah, we thought something was wrong, but we never though to really come out and ask you." (This was after, all I talked about was how my husband hated to be near me, my daughter was crying and misbehaving [at 4 months] and doing these on purpose to get to me and I was showing some classic signs of nervous/mental breakdown). Let's just put it this way, if this was still the 1940's/1950's, I'd be the mother who "went away" for an indefinite amount time to a "vacation home".

And even now, my mother thinks I'm making all this shit up. Yeah right. If it wasn't for my daughter, I would have offed myself a few years ago.

[BlaqueKatt]

Especially when you have a mother & sister who tell you everyday that you should be thankful to have a husband who works Monday to Friday to "bring home the bacon", and that I have a beautiful baby girl who loves you.

And actually that makes it worse, because it heaps guilt on top of the depression. It's not like a depressed person is just going to wake up and go "hey I have what everyone else wants, life is great!" And telling them how they should feel, actually makes them feel worse for not feeling that way.

[Pedersen]

If someone asks you if you're okay, they are saying they care and are opening up a door for you to talk to them.

Actually, I notice it being quite the opposite. Here's an experiment for you to try: Pick a day this week when you are expected to be out and about (work, day long event elsewhere, whatever). The major rule for this is that you are not allowed to stay at home for the day.

While out, make a conscious effort to answer every "Hi, how are you?" with "Miserable". Be as sincere as possible. If necessary, have some ready answers to why your life sucks so bad right then. Watch the reactions. The number of people who will respond with "What's wrong?" and actually listen to you will depress you.

If you get more than five people who genuinely want to help your day get better, consider yourself damned lucky. Most people will have a hard time getting two. I can get myself up to around 7 or so, but of that number, only 1 will I see on a daily basis. Another 4 of those I haven't seen for several months, and likely not to see until end of August. The other two I talk to more regularly, but still no more than once/week. And 6 of those 7 I have to seek out.

I suspect I'm not that different from most people in this regard. And I suspect what you find from doing just that experiment will depress you significantly.

All of that said, I'm damned lucky. I rather like myself. I think I'm a good person. I can be a (rather large) asshole, but I try not to. Used to be very different, though. If not for my parents having me snowed into thinking that suicide is the coward's way out, I'd have killed myself before graduating high school. I'm no longer the depressed person I was. But that's due more to something changing in me than in others doing something for me.

Care to guess how many offers of help I got while dealing with that, though? My parents would listen to me on occasion. That's it. It was in hell^H^H^High school. I even took to answering any/all "How are you?" with "Miserable" for a long time. Still no other offers. So, please, don't say that people are opening a door for me. At best, they're opening a screened window which they reserve the right to close again if I say anything other than "fine".

For example, if my boss asks me how I am, I'll either say "Fine" or respond with a work-related answer like, "I've got too much to do here and not enough time." But when my husband asks, I answer truthfully. He loves me, and genuinely wants to know how I'm feeling.

For me, that one person I can count on is my wife. And I want to hear how she's doing as well, and if there's any way I can help her life be better.

As for myself, I've never been suicidal although we had to hospitalize one of my sisters when we were younger. More recently we've taken my BIL to the ER twice for getting drunk and trying to kill himself in various ways.
This last time we pretty much decided that if he stayed with us any longer he'd be successful as we just aren't equipped to take care of his problems, so now he's at the Salvation Army with counsellors who can actually do something for him.

The way you said that end bit made it sound like he's at some sort of clinic run by the Salvation Army and stays there under their supervision and care.

If so, answer this: Does BIL feel like he's been evicted, no longer a welcome part of the family? After all, his problems are so severe he can't stay with the family. He's just that bad of a person. The people he loves really are better off without him, and every day there just proves that more and more. Sure, the doctors say that that's not true, but look around. He's not with the people he loves, and they're not with him. They're not there, helping him, because they're better off without him.

I know that the above is not reality. But does he?

[AFPheonix]

If so, answer this: Does BIL feel like he's been evicted, no longer a welcome part of the family? After all, his problems are so severe he can't stay with the family. He's just that bad of a person. The people he loves really are better off without him, and every day there just proves that more and more. Sure, the doctors say that that's not true, but look around. He's not with the people he loves, and they're not with him. They're not there, helping him, because they're better off without him.

I know that the above is not reality. But does he?

He has more issues than just the suicidal part, and he knows he can't come back. He's not ready to accept that he has a problem frankly. Enabling him and allowing him to live with us when he's happy to skate by and not better himself and tackle his drug and alcohol problems is enabling and helps no one.
He honestly thought he'd hit rock bottom living with us. He had very little rent to pay, I went ahead and covered his utility payments, paid for his food, cooked it, took him everywhere since his car was repossessed, everything.
He was unwilling to do outpatient care, and being unwilling or unable to hold a job he couldn't get insurance or money to get proper care.
He knows that the situation was untenable, and he knew that after the last time he finished detox that if he screwed up again he was out. We were working on getting him into a indigent bed at a dual diagnosis facility but as you can imagine, beds for patients with no money are rather hard to come by. In the meantime I'd gotten him contact information to quite a few clinicians in the area who would have taken him in at no cost, and he made no effort to contact any of them. Me doing it for him would have defeated the purpose and every case worker we spoke with agreed.
His mental issues are very much aggravated by his alcohol and cocaine abuse. Until he can get those under control he will never be able to get better.

Even after he does complete treatment he won't be able to live with us though. Not after I found he'd stolen some of my undies to toy with. Egads.

But enough about me and my roommate from hell.
I'm trying to figure out why you'd expect a stranger off the street to want to or even be able to help you if you told them you weren't fine. How would you honestly react if someone decided to unload on you? How many of us in the public service sector have stories about people who unload their cares on you, simply because you're there? We can't actually do anything for them. Picking a proper person to talk to, such as family or a professional is the key idea here.
Greenday is in school. He has access to free counsellors. If he needs to talk to someone, he needs to go to his health center as I know he's been urged to do in other threads.

[Boozy]

Common sense tells me that I don't unload my deepest, darkest feelings to the waitress who says, "And how y'all doin' today?"

Most people with basic social skills are able to distinguish between "How are you?" coming from a waitress and "How are you?" coming from a loved one.

[Pedersen]

I'm trying to figure out why you'd expect a stranger off the street to want to or even be able to help you if you told them you weren't fine.
--SNIP--
Greenday is in school. He has access to free counsellors. If he needs to talk to someone, he needs to go to his health center as I know he's been urged to do in other threads.

Common sense tells me that I don't unload my deepest, darkest feelings to the waitress who says, "And how y'all doin' today?"

Most people with basic social skills are able to distinguish between "How are you?" coming from a waitress and "How are you?" coming from a loved one.

Heh, fortunately, I don't even have basic social skills. As such, I'm not going to be offended when someone tries to point out the lack thereof. Gave up on that a while ago.

Now, though, I do have to wonder what comment might have triggered my experiment...

If someone asks you if you're okay, they are saying they care and are opening up a door for you to talk to them.

Ah, there it is!

So, now that we've gotten the crap out of the way, I think we're all in agreement that the comment I just quoted is not 100% true? Or do we have to have that argument a few dozen times before everybody admits that what they really meant was something more like "If someone who loves you asks if you're okay, they're probably actually opening up a door for you to talk to them?"

I'll assume (I know, makes an ass out of u and me) that we're going to agree that's the actual intended statement.

Of course, if you've never seriously pondered (or actually attempted, which is not a category I'm in) suicide, it's very easy to make glib statements about what those who have done so. After all, look at them! They're obviously broken in some way. They're selfish, self-centered, unloving people who don't give a damn about the people around them. All they need is to simply start talking to people, and they'll realize just how awful they are for even thinking of such a thing. Pricks, the lot of them.

They can't possibly actually believe the world would be better off without them.

They can't actually have serious enough troubles to warrant these thoughts (or actions).

They can't actually hate themselves that much.

There's tons of help to be had. They can't believe that asking for it is so difficult.

Nope. Obviously. No way they can feel that way. And if, by some absolute freak of nature type accident, actually feel that way, they're obviously in the wrong.

Of course, they can feel that way. And do.

Now, you want to know what happens when people do ask for the help, most times? If they do manage to stand up and say "Hey, I feel like shit. I feel like you would all be better off without me." ???

They get pooh-poohed. "But, look at your life! What could you possibly be upset about? You've got a loving family. You've got all the material stuff you could want. What more could you want/need?"

For myself, it was acceptance by my peers. Or, at the least, just being left alone would have been pretty damned good. And whenever I tried to explain the situation to the adults? I would be told one of a select list of things, all of which belittled my issue. No one around me took it seriously. I was in water that was miles deep, barely managing to tread water, and sinking. And my problems were just another bit of nothing to them. And they made sure I knew that the problems were, in their minds, insignificant. Which got extended to mean (in my own mind) that I was insignificant.

And if I had ever said that I was pondering suicide? I would have been locked up in a mental health unit so fast it would make heads spin. I would lose my freedom, be unable to speak with friends (since talking to them while locked up would be beyond embarassing), be unable to work. In short, some variety of hell for me, since the only way to tell people the severity of my problems would be to threaten to kill myself.

Take a good long look at your replies in this thread, all of you. How many of these same behaviors have you exhibited? How many times have you already said "The problems aren't that bad" or "Just go get help, it's easy". You haven't acknowledged that the problems, however small they may actually be, feel absolutely enormous to the person who is talking about them. The problems feel like they are going to overwhelm the person, taking over their life, removing all traces of happiness, not just now, but for ever. Leaving them hopeless.

But getting help is so easy? Pfah. If it were so easy, they'd already have gotten it.

[Lachrymose]

Bravo, Pedersen.

No one can know what it's like to be in someone else's shoes.

I guess the next logical question is what if you get help, but it doesn't work?

I "committed" myself to a daily outpatient program at the local psyche hospital due to my major depression.

Guess what? I didn't actually try to commit suicide until AFTER three weeks there. When I had thought it worked.

Obviously it didn't.

I started seeing a therapist regularly. But that didn't help. I got sick of talking. What more was there to talk about after a few sessions? I already had the tools I needed to cope. But I just couldn't find a way to use them.

So I stopped going.

I have to do this by myself. And if I feel, in the end, that none of it's working, then I think I have a right to end it.

I really hate putting my family and loved ones in that much pain. But they don't have to live with what's inside my head.

Sorry if this is incoherent at all. This is a very touchy subject for me and it's still quite raw as a lot has gone down in the past few months.

[AFPheonix]

I am empathizing with you and Greenday. I can't imagine feeling so bad that thinking death is a better option than staying alive.
I don't think Boozy and I are saying that reaching out for help is easy, either, but it's absolutely necessary if one wants to feel better. It's unfortunate, but it's reality. Nothing worth it is ever easy or even sometimes much fun to do. Sometimes you have to get locked away to prevent yourself from causing self-harm. Sometimes you may have to be a little embarrassed by having to admit to people around you that maybe you aren't as together as you'd like to be. But at the end of the day, it was worth it to do it.
If you are going to seek help, get it from someone you can trust and can actually help you. Otherwise, you end up wasting your effort. Laying your problems at the feet of random people on the street is not going to give you as much payback for your effort as is talking to someone you know and trust or talking to someone who is trained to deal with your problems.

[Amethyst Hunter]

Now, you want to know what happens when people do ask for the help, most times? They get pooh-poohed. "But, look at your life! What could you possibly be upset about? You've got a loving family. You've got all the material stuff you could want. What more could you want/need?"

I would be told one of a select list of things, all of which belittled my issue. No one around me took it seriously...Which got extended to mean (in my own mind) that I was insignificant...You haven't acknowledged that the problems, however small they may actually be, feel absolutely enormous to the person who is talking about them. The problems feel like they are going to overwhelm the person, taking over their life, removing all traces of happiness, not just now, but for ever. Leaving them hopeless.

But getting help is so easy? Pfah. If it were so easy, they'd already have gotten it.

THANK YOU Pedersen. This is EXACTLY the kind of sentiment I was trying to express with my original post.

This is *exactly* why I don't bother telling my parents anything 'important' about me anymore. Because for years I was brushed off, punished, ignored, and dismissed every time I tried to express (and couldn't) what I was feeling or why I thought/act the way I do, and frankly I'm fucking fed up with it. I am *bitter as hell* that my brother got fussed over when he had HIS problems (which, yes, included ADD issues and depression/possible suicidal issues - not that I begrudge him any of that help, but it'd have been nice to have some for me too) but yet mine were completely ignored and dismissed. I'm just being lazy. I'm not trying hard enough. What do I have to feel upset over. Get over it. Thanks, Mom and Dad. That's partly why I'm such a mess at 31 years old and still living with you guys, and probably will be for the rest of however long I have on this earth.

Don't get me wrong, I do care about my family, but we are a very fucked up bunch, and this is a huge reason why I refuse to ever have kids myself. I'm not passing this shit on. That kind of judgmental attitude just makes those of us prone to mental issues feel that much worse and MORE likely to off ourselves during a bad spell. We already have trust issues; someone saying "suicidal people are so selfish and spiteful" makes us want to trust people even less than we already do.

[Amethyst Hunter]

An addendum

Most everyone remembers the band Nirvana and the lead singer Kurt Cobain. Cobain, for those of you who might not know, blew his brains out with a shotgun in the 1990s.

He had been suffering a long time - some say his entire life - from clinical depression.

Ignorant that I was back then, I remember thinking when I heard the news, "What a loser." I mean, he pretty much had it all: money, attention, family/friends. Most of which I would've killed for myself.

Then years later *I* got depression. And suddenly, I UNDERSTOOD why Cobain must have felt the need to pick up that gun. I UNDERSTOOD some of, if not all, the kinds of things he must have felt.

Now, if he had blown away his wife and daughter too, or done it just to hurt them on purpose (like the guy in a post elsewhere that we were recently told of) then things would've been different, and I would believe that people would be justified in calling him a selfish, spiteful bastard. But seeing as how the only person he shot was himself, and being that I now have experience with the same affliction that tormented him, I *will never again* call any suicidal person by those labels. The myth of "selfishness" needs to die if we're ever going to address and successfully treat the real problems at hand in regards to suicide, IMO.

[Lachrymose]

Well, as stated before, by definition it is a selfish act. However, the connotation of the word makes it sound bad.

One label I don't like is calling those who go through with it cowards. I mean, our instinct to survive is probably the strongest one we have. To go completely against that instinct is a bit ballsy IMHO. I wouldn't go so far as calling it brave, but it definitely takes guts.

[Pedersen]

I don't think Boozy and I are saying that reaching out for help is easy, either, but it's absolutely necessary if one wants to feel better.

An unfortunate fact that you have chosen to gloss over or ignore in that statement: A great many people do reach out for help, and are told that they don't need it. I even said as much in my post that it happened to me. I've seen others in this thread talk about the exact same thing.

They reach out. They practically beg for it. They try every avenue they can devise to get it. And they are told that their problems aren't real problems, and they just need to get over them.

Sometimes you have to get locked away to prevent yourself from causing self-harm. Sometimes you may have to be a little embarrassed by having to admit to people around you that maybe you aren't as together as you'd like to be.

But you're missing a critical component in making these statements. The people who most need this help need this help from people they can trust. Without that trust, they can't take the help. And how much trust will you place in someone who forces you into a place you do not wish to go? Or who causes you to feel embarassed in the eyes of friends and family?

By saying "These things sometimes have to happen", you are denying the very real concern of the people who seek the help. And in so doing, condemning them to being unable to accept it. If the person doing the suffering chooses to do this, that's one thing. But if it's forced on them? Any recovery will take much, much longer. And that's if it happens at all.

Laying your problems at the feet of random people on the street

Heehee! That's kind of funny to me that you would use that line at this point in the thread. I was pretty sure I'd made my point already, and that people would see it for what it was.

Apparently not, so I will spell it out as simply as possible: I do not advocate walking up to random people and saying "Hi! I'm having a miserable life, and here's why!" I suggested that experiment in response to the utterly ludicrous statement that "anybody who asks how you're doing has opened the door to listening to you and is offering to help."

To those in this thread who have pondered suicide, and who are thanking me for what I've said... Maybe my story can help you a bit.

For most of you on this board, the beginning will be all too familiar: I was one of the outcasts in school. Weak, uncoordinated, socially inept, perpetually afraid of people. Nerd was definitely a very fair label to place on me. Also, I was extremely selfish, and it showed in my actions. I was not a very good person.

By the 10th grade, I had much of my suicide note written out in my mind. I was going to single out people in my school by name, and tell them that they were why I killed myself. I was also going to single out some others, and tell them that I truly appreciated their kindnesses over the years. They tried, but the words and actions of the others had hurt too much. I had given up. And I was sorry if I hurt them.

I had all of that written in my head. Once I got my driver's license, I even found the place where I would do it, and even knew the time of day and method. On I80, in NJ, around exit 4, there's a scenic overlook that overlooks Delaware Water Gap. I would park at that overlook, and do it around sun down. If it matters, I would have used the "wrist cutting" method for killing myself.

I knew all of that. There is only one reason I didn't do it: My parents had me convinced that killing myself would be the coward's way of solving the problems. And, whatever else, I was determined that my final act would not be the act of a coward. I no longer believe it's the act of a coward, though. I now believe it's the act of a person in so much pain that I will never understand, and who is taking a desperate action that I can understand all too well.

Another factor for me was serious self-loathing. I genuinely thought of myself as a monster. Something not even good enough to be called human. Not deserving of any of the good things that humans get. Especially not the most precious gift one human can give to another: a touch.

If you've not experienced the lack of it, then you have no idea how much a simple touch can mean. I would walk down the halls at school, and actually not be touched by people. They would avoid me. Painful memory to remember.

Re-opening those memories is rather painful. If the rest of this post seems disjointed, that will be why. I'll apologize now. Heck, I'm having a hard time figuring out what to type next.

I'm not in that painful place now. My world is so much better that I can't begin to tell you. I have a wife, a home, a good job. The difference, though... A change occurred for me in April 2002. That change started in March 2002.

You see, I had found someone. Someone that I had to be better for. I had to deserve to be with her, which means that I had to be a better man. And I knew I was going to get to see her very soon (I was right, I was less than 4 months away from that). That's a long and complicated side story, though.

The change, though, was entirely mental. My problem was not a neurochemical imbalance. I had to find myself, and know myself. To use the stereotypical questions from Babylon 5, I had to know the answers to both: Who am I? What do I want?

To find a place so utterly alone as the top most deck of a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night is a rarity. I found myself there, though, and asking those same questions for the umpteenth time. And, finally, I found my answers.

With those answers, my rage all but vanished. I stopped hating myself. Stopped seeing myself as the monster. Started seeing myself as the man I am. I forgave myself my faults. And with that, nearly 13 years after I graduated high school, I forgave the people in that school who hurt me.

I know it's a long shot, but perhaps my story can help some of you. If nothing else, maybe it can give you enough hope to make it through the next fight with the depression.

For me, though, right now, I have some ghosts to deal with. Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetfulness. And remembering this much hurts.

To the person who PM'ed me: I am definitely not ignoring you. I want to chat. But, right now, need to deal with some of this before I can possibly be of any use to you (or anybody else).

No, it doesn't go away. You just learn to not pay as much attention to it, until you have to.

[AFPheonix]

An unfortunate fact that you have chosen to gloss over or ignore in that statement: A great many people do reach out for help, and are told that they don't need it. I even said as much in my post that it happened to me. I've seen others in this thread talk about the exact same thing.

They reach out. They practically beg for it. They try every avenue they can devise to get it. And they are told that their problems aren't real problems, and they just need to get over them.



But you're missing a critical component in making these statements. The people who most need this help need this help from people they can trust. Without that trust, they can't take the help. And how much trust will you place in someone who forces you into a place you do not wish to go? Or who causes you to feel embarassed in the eyes of friends and family?

By saying "These things sometimes have to happen", you are denying the very real concern of the people who seek the help. And in so doing, condemning them to being unable to accept it. If the person doing the suffering chooses to do this, that's one thing. But if it's forced on them? Any recovery will take much, much longer. And that's if it happens at all.

I can't very well speak for your situation or others. I can only speak to the situation I've encountered with my own family. In the case of my BIL, when he asked for help, all of us were there. We would listen. We would offer up resources for him. Like I said, we attempted to make it so he could get on his feet again financially, emotionally and mentally. All of us did. My family included, even though they hardly knew him. We gave up a lot to try and make it so he could get better. I started carrying my cell with me at work, even though it's not allowed, so that in the event he needed to talk I could pop into the back of the pharmacy to listen. Same with my husband. Same with his sister. Same with our other roommate. Not once when he decided to drink behind our backs did he call us to have us talk to him and talk about why he was feeling the way he was. He had our numbers, we had them up on a whiteboard in the kitchen. We gave him a spare cell phone when his was shut off.
Our roommate took him to AA meetings, even though he really wasn't her problem to deal with, even though he started being totally inappropriate with her, including trying to grope her.
I'm really not glossing over his calls for help. We were there. However, in his case he simply was not ready to lose the addiction problem he had that exacerbated his issues. Unfortunately, he had nowhere else to go except the Salvation Army as he'd pretty well worn out his welcome everywhere down here. So here we are. If he does not wish to stay there, then he can go elsewhere. He's not being held against his will. I gave him some money (his portion of the deposit on the apartment we signed on to so he could have his own bedroom) before he left so he's not totally destitute, even though I know he stole from us.
In his case, he's just going to have to figure his shit out and get it together. I cannot do it for him.
It is unfortunate that other people don't have that support network though. I am fortunate that my mom brought us up to know that blood is thicker than water, and you take care of your own. To ignore a family member when they're hurting is really unthinkable to me. Frankly having to do this to my BIL broke my heart and my husband's. We hope nothing but the best for him, regardless of everything he's done.

Heehee! That's kind of funny to me that you would use that line at this point in the thread. I was pretty sure I'd made my point already, and that people would see it for what it was.

Ah. I misunderstood what you were trying to get at. I thought you were telling people that getting help included wandering up to a random person who, out of politeness, asked how it was going. My bad.

[IDrinkaRum]

My mother still makes fun of me for going to a therapist because all I have to do is give her the $15 co-pay and talk to her about my problems. (Which stem from her, but heh ... who cares? Right?)

I'm overwhelmed with a special needs child, a husband who goes to work, comes home, hides, plays his PSP and then goes to bed. Acknowledges me more than our daughter. I have a family who gushes over my sister (OMG! She's on her second marriage, her mother-in-law, who has cancer is living with her & her husband, everything bad happens to such a beautiful wonderful brilliant person), but for me? Nothing.

Dear Abby and all other advice columnists suggest writing a letter to express yourself about things bothering you with your mother/father/significant person in your life, but when I did that ... punished. Ridiculed. Hated.

My house right now is trashed. I have a 6 person table. There's just barely enough room to have 3 people sit at the table with their plates. My living room has toys and puzzles and books strewn about. My kitchen is little better off. My laundry room? Yeah, you can't see the floor I have so much laundry I haven't been able to get to.

I'm lazy. I'm a horrible mother. All I do is sit on the computer, letting my daughter run around and watch way too much television. I feed my entire family the wrong foods. All I do is spend my husband's money on fast food or take out. I'm terrible because I work 1 day a week at a gaming store (which equals den of weirdos and such in my mother's eyes) and I leave Kelly with her father for 5 to 6 hours on a Saturday. Don't you know? She needs her mother 24/7???

I'm not allowed to have a life out of my role of a mother.

Gah .. I gotta stop ... I'm crying so hard I can't see the screen.

[Lachrymose]

Uggh..this thread is now turning into group therapy. Haha.

Actually, this kind of stuff seems to work better for me than a therapist.

Anyway, I almost wish my depression were the kind caused rooted in teenage angst so at some point I could grow out of it. I'm not saying it would have been any better to go through or the outcome would be any different, but chances are it would have been.

No, like most posting in this thread, I am way past my teenage years. I'm a 30 year old man dealing with these somewhat new feelings fairly recently.

My "self-diagnosis" of depression, as it were, is based on the fact that I have had narcolepsy since I was 16 years old (although it wasn't diagnosed until I was about 25 or so).

Now it's not the stereotypical narcolepsy where I can just pass out at any random time. However, I could pretty much fall asleep whenever I felt like it. I go into deep sleep in about 10 minutes, while it usually takes a "normal" person about an hour.

Contrary to what people believe, narcoleptics, even though they fall into deep sleep quickly, are extremely light sleepers. I wake up at the slightest sound. And usually wake up about once per hour per night. At least those are the times I remember.

Anyway, as I said, this has been going on for almost half my life now. I have not had one..not ONE single night of sleep where I have felt well rested in the morning since then. Not. One. Almost 15 years of it.

And let me tell you, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, or asking sympathy from others for this, but as you could probably guess, that takes its toll on the mind.

I graduated high school with a 3.98 GPA (out of 4..I know things are done differently now), fifth in my class of 250 or so people.

But when it came time for college, I found myself not going. I didn't have the motivation. I was just too tired all the time.

This was also a prominent reason for a failed marriage. I just wasn't up to doing anything after coming home from work.

More recently, I was "forced" to resign from my job of seven years because of my depression and the fact that I couldn't even get out of bed on most days.

I just got a new job two weeks ago, actually making more money than before, it's MUCH closer to home and they actually came to ME.

Anyone else would be thrilled, and to an extent I am. But I'm afraid of messing this up.

For anyone wondering, the only treatment for narcolepsy as of now is taking stimulants, which have an odd effect on my body.

So, right now, I'm doing what I've always done and trying to deal with it on my own. Although, unlike most of you, my family has been VERY supportive. But they can only help so much. And I find too much help annoying.

I'm sorry for this post, but it's been very cathartic.

Anyone wishing to PM me to chat about their depression is welcome to do so. I find this much more therapeutic than actual therapy anyway.