My wife thinks I'm depressed.
What? No, I'm just eXtremely busy reading, researching and writing blog material for NaBloPoMo. She noticed that I haven't left the house as much in the month of November and that I am sleeping and not sleeping at wild times. But I am having an absolute blast, sometimes, regular blast the other. I have never forced myself to blog, especially at a certain rate of at-least-once daily publication. I have always prefered a natural flow that has averaged about 8 pieces per month for the last four plus years.
So I told her, honey you don't read my blog. I don't think you can write this kind of strange silly material and be depressed. I am writing about deer wishing they could be flying reindeer and other things like duck hunting in Paris France. Flying reindeer with turn signals, EEG devices, solar panels, mid air collision avoidance systems and satellite communication. So I basically invented the cyborg deer, the iDeer. Somebody needed to take Steve's place, especially in the wild kingdom Dr Doolittle manner and it may as well be me, as long as I don't have to become a Buddhist or be grouchy to people on a daily basis. The next big thing could be learning how to read the brain waves of animals.
Contact
(Seriously though, I'm sure I'll keep right on writing silly stuff, fixing air conditioners, doing housework and keeping Cooper happy. One animal at a time is enough for me.)
Another plus is turning on blog comments and chatting with people. I had them turned off due to spam reasons. But finding a bunch of blog people that I like to read has been a neat refreshing process now that Facebook has totally messed up their system.
After everything I have been through in the last five years I think I have a good handle on depression. If you can name/identify everything that makes you momentarily sad, that's not depression, no need for pills, its just life. But if you're sad, especially if you cry for absolutely no eXplainable reason, get help. But there are plenty of nut jobs posing as degreed greedy psychiatrists and medical professionals, so you have to be careful. My case was interestingly simple: lack of vitamin B-12. So make sure you have that checked, and the OTC pills are cheap. I just happened to see one of the evil physicians of my past employment situation at the groc store last night. Its a good thing I have a stated goal of trying to be the nicest person in the universe.
I met with a psychiatrist (the first one) as part of an employer required session. One of the questions he asked me was if I had ever had depression before. I told him that ten years before at age forty I had a bad summer, but that I had worked through it by studying something completely different in the science realm. I had studied astronomy all summer, and it seemed to snap me out of my depression. Being foreign born, he asked for clarification with a puzzled reply question, "Astrology?!?" to which I replied, "NO NO NO!!!, astroNOMy, the scientific study of outer space."
And did the psychiatrist, and later that summer a psychologist, help me? All they wanted to do was talk. I quietly predicted ahead of time that after six sessions the psychologist would announce I was ready to go back to work. Why six? Because I knew the insurance company was only PAYING for six sessions, they had told me that ahead of time. Plus the psychologist was retiring soon. After several months I finally got anti-depressant medicine from my own personal physician.
In the mean time my employer kept trying to get rid of me through the means of saying I was disabled! I was forced to consume all my current vacation time before I could even apply for disability, WHICH I knew was totally wrong. I knew I wasn't disabled. When I was finally able to get that process started, I was asked what my typical day's activities were. After telling them all the tasks I could and did perform, shopping, housework, etc, her reply was, "Mr. Boston, you don't sound very disabled to me." to which I emphatically joyously replied, "I know!!! I just want my job back, I finally got some anti-depressant medicine just about a month ago and I'm doing fine, after being forced off work for the last 10 months on sick leave."
Several months later after getting my job back for a little while my lawyer finally got the report that the first psychiatrist had given my company, and the confused doctor had wrote, "Mr. Boston dealt with his earlier depression of 10 years ago with astrology". Idiot psychiatrist!!! I was very glad that I had changed psychiatrists, even if it meant dealing with a Pakistani instead of a Vietnamese, both of them had communication problems, but there didn't seem to be anyone else available that my insurance would pay. In the long run the best help came by getting fired, dropping the quack doctors and leaving the insane asylum (job) called corpoRATe America Fortune Five Hundred petroleum industry, and spending a lot of time with an amazing dog and a sick spouse who needed my help.
Link to DARDs
What? No, I'm just eXtremely busy reading, researching and writing blog material for NaBloPoMo. She noticed that I haven't left the house as much in the month of November and that I am sleeping and not sleeping at wild times. But I am having an absolute blast, sometimes, regular blast the other. I have never forced myself to blog, especially at a certain rate of at-least-once daily publication. I have always prefered a natural flow that has averaged about 8 pieces per month for the last four plus years.
So I told her, honey you don't read my blog. I don't think you can write this kind of strange silly material and be depressed. I am writing about deer wishing they could be flying reindeer and other things like duck hunting in Paris France. Flying reindeer with turn signals, EEG devices, solar panels, mid air collision avoidance systems and satellite communication. So I basically invented the cyborg deer, the iDeer. Somebody needed to take Steve's place, especially in the wild kingdom Dr Doolittle manner and it may as well be me, as long as I don't have to become a Buddhist or be grouchy to people on a daily basis. The next big thing could be learning how to read the brain waves of animals.
Contact
(Seriously though, I'm sure I'll keep right on writing silly stuff, fixing air conditioners, doing housework and keeping Cooper happy. One animal at a time is enough for me.)
Another plus is turning on blog comments and chatting with people. I had them turned off due to spam reasons. But finding a bunch of blog people that I like to read has been a neat refreshing process now that Facebook has totally messed up their system.
After everything I have been through in the last five years I think I have a good handle on depression. If you can name/identify everything that makes you momentarily sad, that's not depression, no need for pills, its just life. But if you're sad, especially if you cry for absolutely no eXplainable reason, get help. But there are plenty of nut jobs posing as degreed greedy psychiatrists and medical professionals, so you have to be careful. My case was interestingly simple: lack of vitamin B-12. So make sure you have that checked, and the OTC pills are cheap. I just happened to see one of the evil physicians of my past employment situation at the groc store last night. Its a good thing I have a stated goal of trying to be the nicest person in the universe.
I met with a psychiatrist (the first one) as part of an employer required session. One of the questions he asked me was if I had ever had depression before. I told him that ten years before at age forty I had a bad summer, but that I had worked through it by studying something completely different in the science realm. I had studied astronomy all summer, and it seemed to snap me out of my depression. Being foreign born, he asked for clarification with a puzzled reply question, "Astrology?!?" to which I replied, "NO NO NO!!!, astroNOMy, the scientific study of outer space."
And did the psychiatrist, and later that summer a psychologist, help me? All they wanted to do was talk. I quietly predicted ahead of time that after six sessions the psychologist would announce I was ready to go back to work. Why six? Because I knew the insurance company was only PAYING for six sessions, they had told me that ahead of time. Plus the psychologist was retiring soon. After several months I finally got anti-depressant medicine from my own personal physician.
In the mean time my employer kept trying to get rid of me through the means of saying I was disabled! I was forced to consume all my current vacation time before I could even apply for disability, WHICH I knew was totally wrong. I knew I wasn't disabled. When I was finally able to get that process started, I was asked what my typical day's activities were. After telling them all the tasks I could and did perform, shopping, housework, etc, her reply was, "Mr. Boston, you don't sound very disabled to me." to which I emphatically joyously replied, "I know!!! I just want my job back, I finally got some anti-depressant medicine just about a month ago and I'm doing fine, after being forced off work for the last 10 months on sick leave."
Several months later after getting my job back for a little while my lawyer finally got the report that the first psychiatrist had given my company, and the confused doctor had wrote, "Mr. Boston dealt with his earlier depression of 10 years ago with astrology". Idiot psychiatrist!!! I was very glad that I had changed psychiatrists, even if it meant dealing with a Pakistani instead of a Vietnamese, both of them had communication problems, but there didn't seem to be anyone else available that my insurance would pay. In the long run the best help came by getting fired, dropping the quack doctors and leaving the insane asylum (job) called corpoRATe America Fortune Five Hundred petroleum industry, and spending a lot of time with an amazing dog and a sick spouse who needed my help.
Link to DARDs
Posts
2 comments:
Depressed? No.
Mad? Yes
LOL (while rolling around on the floor of my iPadded cell trying desparately to get outta this straight jacket while singing along to the happy songs the lil pink spiders on the walls are performing accapella in French. I have no idea what we are singing, but the spiders are all smiling, so it must be good, right?)
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