Damnit, why can’t they make these bullets taste better?

Okay, so I got kicked in the ass today. I did a little bit of it, but a good friend of mine at work did the rest.

I’m a bit depressed. I’ve been kinda lying to myself, figuring I can get myself out of this funk, if I pull myself up by my bootstraps and get it done. But, quite frankly I don’t know what the hell else to do. I’ve pulled every trick I know out of the book to naturally fix my screwed up serotonin and norepherine levels. (Its sad, I know how to spell serotonin without looking it up, norepherine was another story though pheeew!) But, back to the topic at hand, I need to get myself out of this funk. I think I’ve mastered that the cup is always half full, and all that other jazz, at this point its chemical.

I’ve been fucking around with antidepressants and for at least six if not seven years, and intellectually understand the concept of a neurochemical imbalance and that depression is often like any other disease, but I’m stubborn, I want to do this on my own, without any help. If you think about it its pretty stupid, its something akin to saying “I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding!”, then someone hands you a bandage, and then saying, “Nope, I don’t want that”. There is more than one way to bleed to death.

In my own defense, this dang dragon snuck up on me. Thinking back, it really started after Katrina hit. For me depression often is a reaction to stress. Sometimes I can channel stress into performing (As I think I did around Katrina at work) but it also can hit the other side of me push me into depression. I needed to bite the bullet at that point, but I didn’t. I think part of me didn’t want to have to face saying the line “I’m depressed because of the effects of this fucking hurricane.” It seemed and seems selfish, “yeah lots of people died, had their houses destroyed, and are scattered all over the country, but I’m depressed.”

Its funny, I can go look at my grades and pick out where I was battling depression and when I wasn’t. I just pulled out my favorite computer tool, Excel, and roughly calculated that when I was battling depression my GPA was 2.40, when I wasn’t it was 3.21, a .81 difference.

So I’m stuck with a slightly annoying decision. How long should I stay on antidepressants? Historically I’ve hung onto them long enough until I felt good then flushed them down the toilet. The problem with those dang things is they don’t hop into your system overnight, and I’m not always the best person at noting that I’m starting to get depressed.

I don’t like the conclusion that I just drew, but I don’t think I can or should abuse myself like this anymore. That is what it boils down to.

These bullets are fucking nasty to bite…