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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 5 of 5. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Roman on November 11, 2002, at 21:44:04
It feels like I'm in a small cell with a window just large enough to see everyone on the outside laughing and playing--free and happy. My depression and anxiety keep me from having friends; from going on dates; from talking to people; and most of all, from enjoying life.
As if the pain of depression wasn't enough, the loneliness and social discomfort are torturing me day after day. When I sleep, I have friends, a nice girfriend, etc. then I awake to 'real' life--to my prison cell.
My life is such a mess, I can't believe it got this bad--when I look at a photograph of myself when I was a little guy, I'm smiling and playing--what happened? What did I do wrong? I just want to feel happy again for a minute, to feel pleasure again one time before I sleep forever--it never comes though--still I wait, and sleep, and wait.
Memories of the past and hopes for the future are all I have, like I exist in a void punched-out in the middle of my life--I don't feel alive anymore--as if I'm waiting to be reborn, or just waiting to sleep endlessly.
Posted by NikkiT2 on November 12, 2002, at 7:30:16
In reply to Feels like I'm in prison..., posted by Roman on November 11, 2002, at 21:44:04
I know that feeling!!!
I cna't help and no great words of wisdom I'm afraid.. but we're here for you... get all your stresses out on us!!
Hang in there *hugs*
Nikki x
Posted by BeardedLady on November 12, 2002, at 8:06:26
In reply to Feels like I'm in prison..., posted by Roman on November 11, 2002, at 21:44:04
Hi, Babe. Sorry I got you that PBC. But even by pastry, it's just not worth it. (Plus you'd probably just get really fat.)
I went through this with whatever happened to me four years ago to make my brain refuse to turn off at night. I would spend all day crying. It would be summer and gorgeous, and all the kids would be playing at the park, and I'd be in my boxer shorts and tank top crying.
I even thought about suicide for awhile. Figured I was hurting my baby by making her see me so miserable. But Jerry Springer saved my life.
Yep. I couldn't watch my favorite shows. I couldn't read. I couldn't do anything; I was a panic-stricken mess, a deer caught in the headlights. But at 4:00 every afternoon, I watched Springer. And one day it hit me.
"Look at you! You have all your teeth, and you're not sleeping with your brother!"
And then I started playing the game--the laughter is contagious game. I started smiling and pretending that I felt better, and I actually started feeling better. And then I started being able to sleep (my problem, not yours), and then I really did feel better.
Still, on days like today, I look back at these pictures of myself standing in the desert on the rim of a Utah canyon, and I wonder where I went. I was happy then. What the hell happened to me?
But doing that is futile. Because that picture isn't me, isn't you. It's another person without the rest of our experiences. It's like mourning the loss of a youthful complexion.
My current therapist told me I had to find the one thing, the one joy, something from my past that made me who I was and begin doing it again. So I did, and it worked. I got most of myself back.
In spite of the sometimes frequent, sometimes rare pity parties.
You have to know that joy is possible. In fact, I like that slogan. I think I'm going to design it on my Mac and iron it on a t-shirt.
Tell you what: I'll make you one. If you want it, send me your p.o. box and shirt size. Tell me your favorite color, and I'll print it in that ink.
You can find me at the underscore great underscore bearded underscore one underscore at yahoo dot com.
Thank you for your post. Trying to help has made me feel better, and I hope it has made you feel a little better too.
beardy
Posted by Miller on November 12, 2002, at 10:50:40
In reply to Feels like I'm in prison..., posted by Roman on November 11, 2002, at 21:44:04
Hi Roman,
I will tell you what my shrink told me the other day. He said I am able to control my choices. That is regardless of the prison you may be in. His example was if you were being kept prisoner in a jail of Hitler youth (extreme example, I admit) and they were giving you only bread, water and Nazi propaganda to read you still have a choice. You could read the materials in hopes of understanding your captors, you could refuse the literature all together, or you could read the propaganda and debate the merits of the text.
The point of the story is that we may be very limited right now, but there are still choices. Even when you are in prison. So find SOMETHING that will allow you to escape your prison even if it is only for a few moments.
I'll even give you some suggestions. I don't know your life, but...
Try reading a favorite children's book. Look through pictures of friends and family. Walk around the block. Write an elderly relative a note. Send an old school friend/teacher an anonymous letter. Just find anything that will let you make a choice other than misery and loneliness.
I hope I was able to help.
-Miller
Posted by Roman on November 12, 2002, at 19:33:04
In reply to Re: Feels like I'm in prison..., posted by NikkiT2 on November 12, 2002, at 7:30:16
Last night was quite rough. I felt so small, I could've done chin-ups on the curb!
Reading your posts made a BIG difference in my ability to pull-up out of the hole I slipped into. Since you are all familiar with what I'm going through, I feel as if I can trust what you say and know your intentions are genuine.
I was reminded of an event from when I was about 7 years old. It was my first time taking a public bus home on my own. My mom gave me instructions to get off as soon as the bus made its first left turn. Unfortunately, she forgot the first left actually occured several stops before my destination. I got off at the wrong stop. As soon as I realized the mistake, I panicked and cried in the busy street--I was 10 cents short of another bus fare--lost and terified.
A woman stopped and asked what was wrong, and gave me a dime to get back on the bus. I'll never forget Mrs. Sands' deed and her image is forever etched in my mind's eye. Regardless of what happens, my faith in human kindness remains intact since that day--your posts confirm my belief--thanks.
This is the end of the thread.
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