While I've always tried to tell myself that I am a happy person, there was always something wrong with the statement I was telling myself. Its difficult for me to explain this, so stick with me folks...
It seems that depression isn't as simple as being able to say "I am a happy person" or saying "I always feel mental agony." From what I understand from myself, depression has crept into my life in a much more complicated form.
First let me explain a brief synopsis of my current lifestyle. I'm on my computer quite a lot. This started when I was thirteen years old, and my dad figured a good punishment for getting bad grades was locking me up in my room. I was a bright student, but I refused to do busy tedious work... such as doing pages of math homework problems that I already knew how to do. Anyway, I would be locked up in my room from the time I got home to school, until I woke up in the morning for the next school day (bathroom breaks were permitted) . All I had in that room was my computer, so I'm assuming that my escapism started there. Now the most conformable place in the world for me is my computer chair.
Though I do get out quite a lot, and I have a vast group of friends, the fact remains that much of my time is spent on that computer. The scene where depression comes in is the fact that I need to push myself to do anything tedious or requires "hard" work. And when I say "push myself" I DON'T mean that the work it difficult for me to do, I actually have to convince my mind to do the god damn work. But my entire body fights me.
For example: When I have to do some homework that I find boring, my mind starts to loose focus, I feel the incredible urge to get back on my computer, and when I'm about to start working, I feel a violent wave of anger and sadness while it takes all my mental strength just to focus on the task at hand. Other times I just forget about the work entirely, my mind ejects the memory that I have work to do. Sometimes I can even feel extra weight in my arms when I'm about to work on something that doesn't appeal to me.
I have always refused to set up an appointment with a sociologist or psychiatrist about the situation. I always believed they would just nod their heads, make little notes on their clipboard and throw me a bottle of pills. I have also refused to tell myself that I have a mental condition because it would just give me an excuse to keep being lazy.
But I talked to my mom about this very situation and she set up an appointment with a sociologist... hopefully he can help without sending me to a psychiatrist who will throw me a bottle of zoloft. I don't care how fucking depressed I am, I will never swallow a single pill of that fucking anti depressant shit. The only pill I will ever swallow is on the counter pain meds.
So, what does ipower feel about the situation? Does anybody else feel similar to the way I feel?
Oh and by the way, if you ever feel depressed and feel like your life can't get any worse... go to the Oprah "madame butterfly." You'll see that things could always be worse. Honestly seeing an Oprah that is so horribly sad, makes me feel better about my situation, but it doesn't stop me from crying when I'm watching it.
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