Joe's POZ Blog

lying in the drawer, her hard steel, machine tooled body and her 9mm, hollow point bullets. One easy motion would open the drawer to bring her into the light and while caressing her handle, a quick pull on the bolt to load her, a slight tilt of the hand to aim her, and …

That thought is what brought me back to life, hopefully a steady road to recovery and this forum. In case you noticed, I’ve been absent for a while and the reason remains a constant one for me, mainly depression. Unfortunately, this last episode was the blockbuster of all episodes and had me almost jeopardizing my life and my relationship through my constantly pushing Stephen away. Suffice it to say that I am very fortunate for the quality of the relationship that I enjoy and the caliber of the man that loves me, along with a gifted therapist. The specifics of my episode are not as important as the message that it carried.

I’ve suffered from severe depression for about 25 years. In fact, it is the reason for my disability under Social Security and not my HIV status. I did a Blog entry before on the specifics of my depression, so I won’t retrace old territory, rather I want to share with you what can happen when you ignore that you have a mental illness. If you are lucky, you have a bad day or so, but you may also wind up staring at a drawer that contains a gun that is beginning to look like a very viable solution to ending your current state of mind.

As I read the posts I see reflected a fair amount of emotions that could be tied to depression. The posters who seem to be a Jeckyl & Hyde or real steady people, who seem to just “go off” one day, for no apparent reason to those who seemingly self-implode on their own. In all of these situations, depression could be playing a role, so all that I ask is that if you have feelings that seem strange to you, or you just don’t feel like your normal self, please talk to someone, because while it is usually nothing, it can also mean the beginnings of depression.

I believe that depression is a very under-diagnosed disease present in many pos people. I’ve yet to talk with anyone pos who have not admitted to feelings of hopelessness and unexplained sadness and when that happens, you need to let someone know about it because depression is very good at robbing you of rational thought and distorting the reality that surrounds you. If you are beginning that decline, into that black hole, where nothing exists, no feelings, motivation, fear, pain, joy … none of it, just a blackness that ensnares your conscience, until it is satisfied and lets you return to your own reality. You’ll need help in avoiding that pit or to climb out of it. That’s why it is so important to share what you are feeling with your doctor and if you are feeling really out of sorts, then it’s critical that you speak with someone.

I know some of you might think that mental illness is just an excuse and it only affects weak people. Or it’s really some sort of act and you can just “snap” out of it, but believe me when I tell you how wrong you are. Mental illness, whether it be depression, anxiety, OCD, you name it, can be so much more debilitating than any physical disease. My crying jags on Monday were so severe that I could not drive my truck. I was crying so hard that I could not see beyond my tears and the crying went on for hours. The beast had gotten a solid hold on me that began last Saturday night and only ended, earlier this Tuesday afternoon. There were times where I was beating on my head, screaming for “them” to get out of my mind. There I was, all alone, screaming for non-existent entities to leave my mind. To be honest, it scarred the living shit right out of me.

Never one to miss a message that gets delivered, with a couple of days from hell as an attachment, I’ve been searching for what triggered this last episode and as always, it’s the obvious stuff, that for whatever reason, sometimes gets lost in the shuffle. There’s been a lot of stress at home, what with the Hurricanes (7 in 18 months), the recovery and repairs, preparing the house for sale and the latest debacle, a leak under our slab that involved a plumber who made a 3 day job, into a two week ordeal. Then Stephen got sick, I got sick, he got sick again, and blah, blah, blah and the mound kept growing. But rather than doing what I generally do when the stress starts mounting, which would be to immediately go roller-blading or motorcycle riding, I decided to dig in my heels and try and move the mountain myself. Really bad decision on my part, one I dare say, that almost cost me my life.

So I have pledged to return to my center. I am returning to those things, where I can affect change, reconnect to the world and re-institute those things that constitute my balance. My hubby keeps me healthy with proper nutrition and I’m recommitting to physical exercise. I also want to resume my writing, which has been dormant for much too long and with all the ammo the Republicans are providing … What remains important here is that I lost my way and forgot what fuels my passion, makes me happy and what I deserve. I need to regain my “rhythm” if you will, because without it I will return to those fringes of sanity where things are just too dangerous.

I also have a responsibility to myself, because while I don’t deserve to have depression, I do have it and as such I must treat it as aggressively as any other disease. So my life has changed, again and I’m back in therapy, adjusting those psyche drugs and reclaiming my destiny. I’m learning new ways to reach harmony with my world, and myself, because my sanity and possibly by default, my life, depends upon attaining those goals.

Mostly, I want to return to my family here and just fall back into place and enjoy the ride. Finding my balance again means doing things that I must, but more importantly, doing things that bring me joy and a sense of self-fulfillment. I lost my way for a period, but I have returned, hopefully stronger, but certainly wiser. Experience has a way of sneaking up on you and sometimes it gives you a “Jethro” (that’s a hit upside the head, for you non-NCIS fans) just to remind you of where your priorities should lie. I’ll try to never forget or ignore my priorities, because I never want “her” to ever seem that inviting again.

(Dedicated to Stephen, my rock, and the love of my life and my best friend and to a very dear long-distant friend; thank you both for loving me.)