At the time, I just couldn't get over it. My mother had always been there for me, and I just wasn't prepared to face life on my own, without her guidance. She learned that she was dying only 3 months before she passed. I had just turned 18, I was starting college, wasn't even sure of what I wanted to do with my life. And all of a sudden, it just hit me like a sledgehammer.
I was alone with my younger brother and my father who had never been there for us on an emotional level. He was the provider, the hard working man. Don't get me wrong. My dad has always been good to us. I can't blame him. But he wasn't prepared for this, and just couldn't help us cope with the grief and the pain of losing our mother. He didn't even know how to deal with it himself.
My brother went for therapy but I was too proud. I thought that if I got through this alone, that I could get through anything. I now think that there lies part of the problem that's been following me for the past 15 years.
When my mother died, I started going out with girls, lots of girls, and going to bars, driving drunk, every dumb mistake a lot of kids do, thinking it would help. Thinking it would make it all go away. Thinking it would erase the pain. A year later, I went steady with a nice girl. Things had gotten sour at home, since my father got a new woman into the house 2 months after my mom passed. It wasn't a good idea, of course, but it was his way of trying to cope with his loss. My girlfriend offered that I move in with her family, and I went. I stayed there a year, worked and went to school at the same time, trying to do something with my life. Then I got a place of my own, with my brother, and my girlfriend and I broke up.
The years went on, I pursued my studies, got a small appartment all by myself. My brother moved in with his girlfriend, and he studied also. He was doing better than me, and he still is today. He's living with the same girl, has a nice house and a nice job. I can say that he made it. Can't say the same for me.
Throughout the years, I have completed college as well as 4 university diplomas, 2 of these being post-grad level. Before 2005, I can say that I was able to put my depression feelings aside and keep on going. I accomplished lots of things that I don't feel the need to talk about here, but I know that I could have made it far. However, as depression closed in, and axiety grew inside me, I started doubting of myself, and that's when all hell broke loose.
I started taking depression drugs in 2005, and have been on and off them since then. I tried Zoloft, Celexa, Prozac, Wellbutrin, Effexor and Cymbalta, to no avail. I could not endure the numerous side effects, and I felt like a zombie, sleepwalking through most of the days.
I managed to get into relationships during these years. Lots of relationships. A couple of these lasted a while: 2 years, 1 and a half year, 3 years...but most lasted from 2 weeks to 3 months on average. Can't say I blame the poor girls; living with me must be hell. And the more of these failed relationships I endured, the more my self esteem took a beating. Before 2005, I was the one who dumped. Since then, I was getting dumped. And it's gotten worse since my last long-lasting relationship ended, almost 3 years ago now. Every girl I meet either doesn't want a relationship with me, after seeing me for a couple of weeks (bad vibes?) or it turns out that they confess having had problems themselves with depression or anxiety in the recent past, or are still learning to cope with it, and don't feel they can support 2 persons at a time...
3 years ago, when my last meaningful relationship ended, I went back to school, to learn a manual trade. At that time, I wanted to become an English teacher. I have a graduate's degree in english lit. and translation and a post-grad degree in college teaching, but since I failed to find a teaching position on the first try, I decided to forget about it, and went to do something else. I had lost the will to fight for what I wanted, even though it was part of my personality before. I thought I would go the easy way by choosing a manual trade, work hard without thinking too much, and earn a good salary ( construction trades pay very well here in Quebec).
So after a year and a half, I became a sheet metal worker, or tinsmith. I started working a week after I graduated, in a city that was located a 8h30 drive from the place I lived. I thought that by moving away, in a city where no one knows me, I could get a fresh start and be finally happy. It lasted 5 months. I then stopped working and had a severe depression, my first true depression, and got unemployment benefits for 5 months. I was a wreck, the girl I was seeing dumped me 2 days before my birthday, I had no money, was freezing my ass off in a cold apartment, sleeping all day, just waiting to get better. Hoping for a miracle.
In April 2012, I moved back to Montreal, near my father. He's had his share of problems too. He's lost his house and everything he had to gambling. There's only my brother who turned out ok, for all I know. He doesn't speak to us anymore, because his longtime girlfriend despises my father and I for not being able to cope with our problems. Not having been as successful as them in life.
For the past 15 years, I went from a promising future to the bottom of the barrel. I've been in lots of relationships that didn't end well. I've studied many subjects, worked many different jobs, but never felt like I belonged anywhere. I have lived in more than 12 different cities throughout my life, and I finally realized that a new city alone can't make you feel better about yourself, that you have to be happy, to believe in yourself and then you'll be ok, wherever you go. I realized that, but I can't find a way to practice what I preach. I feel miserable all the time. The only time I feel good, is the first couple of weeks when I meet a new girl. As soon as it's over, I feel like shit again.
I don't call my friends so they don't call either, and most of them haved moved on with their lives, have families of their own, and friends with families. I can't blame them for moving on. I would too if I could move on from myself
In september, I got hurt at work when I fell from a stepladder. I've been working a desk job since then, for the same company, and it will be another month before I'm back on my feet. This feels even more depressing. Sure, I have a job, but I hurt myself real bad doing a job that I don't even like, because I'm too afraid to do what I really want to do in life.
I've been seeing a girl also for the past 2 months, but she discovered that I was depressive, and since I hadn't told her at first ''Hi, I'm joe, and I'm depressed'', well she said she could'nt trust me...she says she still wants to see me, but she never sends me any sms, never calls. I don't say no to her because I like her presence. I don't like being alone. But only for a girlfriend; man friends I care less about. I really need affection, and love.
For the past couple of weeks, I've been thinking about ending it all, yet again. These thoughts come and go, but they never leave for good. I'll have to file for bankruptcy soon, for debts contracted 3 years ago, because I wanted my girlfriend to be happy. Because I thought that I could buy love, I guess.
For the time being, I'm barely living. It's more like surviving. People think I'm ok, because I don't let it show. But I'm a mess.
It's not like I haven't tried to get better. All these pills I took, the psychologist, the doctor. The only specialist I haven't met is a psychiatrist. Maybe I'm afflicted with something else than depression. I don't know. And I'm about to start to think that I don't care anymore.
Sorry for the essay. It's a long read. But it is, roughly, my story.
