I had started a blog on how I AM and how I am NOT a Liberal. I wanted to write a mildly amusing blog. Not far into it, though, when I was explaining why I am opposed to the death penalty, I mentioned that it is unconscionable to execute anyone for any crime who has a serious mental disorder. I have now decided to make the Liberal/Conservative blog the one after this one because mental disorder is now dominating my thoughts and the point of this selfish blog is to just talk about what is on my mind.
I knew one person with schizophrenia and another with bi-polar disorder. I am no longer friends with either because their behavior became too aberrant for me to deal with.
I think probably the main reason my relationships fail with people who have a mental disorder (or are just plain weird) is because my own life-long battle with crushing depression makes me too weak to help them.
I want to talk about depression.
Even as a young boy, I became morose easily and felt alienated from the people surrounding me no matter how ‘happy’ the environment was. Having my English accent beaten out of me in the schoolyard when I was in Elementary School was, I think (but I’m not sure), when I began flirting with the ‘dark side’. It didn’t help that I am also an only child and so I was naturally inclined to bratty, self-indulgent introspection.
Then I became the product of a broken home. My father had the kindness to walk out on my mother and I on Christmas Day when I was 12 years old (and I was already confused about my seemingly permanent erections). My mother was left an emotional wreck whose profound heartbreak I think somehow seeped into me and broke me too. It didn’t help that when I turned to a teacher at school as a father figure – I was betrayed again.
Depression took root in me, deeply, in my teens (and no, this was not your basic teenage Goth angst bullshit). The colors in the world were washed out and I saw things in octaves of black and white. When I was 18, I slashed my wrists as my girlfriend at the time was doing.
I am not going to chronicle all of the pain and suffering and medications that followed because, frankly, it’s just a bore.
It is only about where the debilitating condition of depression has left me now.
At the age of 42, I have managed to rein in a lot of the demons and I constantly remind myself of the following:
- I have good friends who love me
- I have the most beautiful daughter in the world who loves me
- I live in Montreal – the greatest city in the world
- I have a lovely apartment in the greatest city in the world
- I am relatively financially secure (the people on the street break my heart)
- Self-medicating on alcohol and drugs is mostly under control
However, there is still the darkness. It often feels like there are little sucker weights all over my body – pulling me down (and I’ve heard voices). Although I have controlled a lot of this illness, there are 2 sticking points that just have a compounding effect:
- I will probably never be able to work more than a pretty basic job
- I will probably never be able to succeed in my relationships with women
The first one I will discuss in a later blog. The second one is a heartbreaker.
I have slept with a lot of women and have had 5 “serious” relationships with women. I remember when I got involved in my 1st “serious” relationship, at the age of 19, with a girl named Amanda – I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. And you know what? I would have if things hadn’t fallen apart. Some people think that I have had a pile of girlfriends to prove something. It’s so not true. I am so on board with the whole “let’s grow old together” thing – it’s not even funny – and I have been since my teens.
Why do my relationships always fail?
I’m a total shit to be around sometimes and it’s so often hard for me to see it through the turmoil.
My girlfriend, Brenda, is moving out of our home and buying her own place to be by herself because it’s intolerable to live with me.
I have protested.
To no avail.