But thinking more about my life, this is not entirely true. I had a short period of time where I used to be extremely depressed in the past. For a short year or so before I went crazy I felt very lonely without a girlfriend or meaningful relationships and fought depression with booze and sex. It did not help. They were just distractions. And then I had my year of hell. But now I am happy.
What changed to make me happy? Two things happened. (Well three, I went through hell). One, I went crazy. And two, I became religious. Perhaps there is something about being crazy that makes one happier, but that does not seem right. But I think my being religious helps me be happier. I have come to the conclusion that making a good confession is more helpful psychologically than any other factor in my life, or else, something about the ritual has such a very strong placebo effect that it is extraordinary. I am not consumed and oppressed with foreboding and guilt and regret. And feeling that I am not alone, even though I am so very alone, but have a God and the saints to give me comfort and friendship is very helpful. Also avoiding strong addictive physical stimulations such as sex and alcohol also seem to help me be happier. I have a measure of peace now, more than I have ever had and I am generally happy. I do not have as much pleasure as I used to have, but in the dead of night when all is quiet I do not feel miserable or wretched, I can sleep without booze and am content and happy. And while I have daily cares and worries, all I have to do is look at a tree or up at the sky or at a bird and I will have joy. Even the homeless can look up at the sky and at the clouds or at the moon or at the stars (even in the city we can see a few of the stars).
I am materially okay, not in need. This is an important factor, so I am not on the street or in danger of being on the street (for now, but not forever). But this was also the case when I was miserable.
The picture is Danica crying because I was thinking about depression because of her. I learned that she is having a sad time in her life. Nobody reads this blog and she probably will not see this so I hope she won't mind me using her so very beautiful picture here.
At one time in my life there was a boy who had a crush on me, but I was only interested in women, but I unwisely was friendly with him, and he once overdosed in my company on purpose, perhaps over me, or just out of depression, I am not certain, so he was on the floor of my room as I waited for him to wake up. I do not know if he truly meant to try to kill himself, but he survived. It was such a strange time in my life, chaotic, my time of misery before my year of hell. Our relationship did not end well, but it did not end in suicide for either of us. I am such a wretched person.
So my cure in general for my own depression was to make peace with God and go to confession (as despair and guilt was a large part of my sadness). However this only works if one believes in God and no longer wants to do those things considered to be sins and is willing to change one's life and one can not force this. And this does not work if one is already at peace with God and is still depressed or if sin is not in part the cause one one's depression. I also think reducing the amount of sensory pleasure also makes me happier and less depressed, though this does not make sense at first. The hangover is always worse than the high is good in a way. I do not know if secular therapy is helpful for those with depression. I go to secular therapy and it does not help me, but my problem is psychosis and not depression. Medicine is helpful for me and I like going to therapy because I don't have many friends and it is fun to talk to people but it is no cure. But I imagine it is helpful for depression for those who do not have other meaningful relationships where one can be honest and cut to the heart without being afraid to show one's weakness and one's ugliness. I would think that talking about one's wounds must help if one's depressed, but there is no absolution so the guilt remains. And there are wounds where there is no guilt at all which still bite and cut so what happens to such wounds as these? I know my wounds were mostly of my own making. I was guilty and was not innocent. I was not solely a victim like a girl abused.
I do not know if anti-depressants work or if they are only distractions like alcohol (though I doubt they are as destructive as alcohol). I only know that some psychiatric medicines work to some degree because my psychosis is helped by the medicine I take (usually!).
My life is not as tragic as most people's, so I do not have as many wounds or as many reasons to be depressed. My greatest wounds were my guilt and then the terrors of the demons from my year in hell (which to me was as harsh abuse as most suffering from the hands of men).
I am not a teacher> I am only a fool. I have no followers. I hope to have a quiet peaceful life followed by a happy eternity in heaven. But many believe that such an eternity does not exist. For the past four months I have been well. And if there is no after life I hope to have the same quiet peaceful life.
But I have been crying a bit lately. But my tears have been happy tears for the most part, or meaningful tears. Crying over my sins or the sufferings of Our Lord or with happiness at the grace of God or His redemption. Perhaps these are fantasies. But I would not give back these tears.
I am so very alone. I have my parents but they are not a wife or children. And soon they will die. I hope to have peace and I wish you all have peace as well.
For a while before my last relapse I was feeling very lonely and I was not always happy. I also was drinking a bit which was likely on part the cause. I would think how my life had no meaning without a wife and a family of my own, and while I was writing my stories about a relationship I did not have in reality, this added to my sense of sadness. At times I would want nothing more than a wife and children. And most men are made for family. Yet I will likely never have this and certainly do not have it now. It is one thing to be sad because one loses a lover, but it is another to know that one will likely never have a lover again. But now even though I am so alone, I am happy now (but not always).
Anyway I am no teacher> I was just thinking about these things and hoping for the best . . .
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