Without oversharing, in the early to mid 90s I went through a tough time, tough enough that I went and sought (bad) medical help to avoid a nervous breakdown. But I had one anyway. I was put on some extremely severe antidepressants which A) fucked me up big time and B) took a very long time to get out of my system. I vowed I would never, ever do anything like that ever again.
Time moved on and the hell I was going through at the time (which caused the initial early stages of the breakdown) are but dim and distant memories. But as time has a habit of moving in circles I started to feel like that again as COVID took hold.
Rather than seeking help, I relied on my (long suffering) wife to kick my ass on a regular basis. Not fair on her but with a stack of non-mental health issues to also deal with, she did an amazing job. So today I am beginning to understand exactly what went on and how I could have avoided the original breakdown all those years ago.
Three things keep me stable:
1) My wife
2) My daughter
3) A relatively comfortable lifestyle.
Note that I don't mention other family in there. I love my family just like any other human being would but they are not the elements that keep me sane and balanced. My job? Hah, my job is the thing that pays the bills, it is nothing more. I get some mild satisfaction out of some aspects of it, but I am a wage slave firstly and foremostly, and I often amuse myself by imagining what it'd be like to retire - but know that with the economic climate the way it is, that's very unlikely to ever happen.
My focus is on the next ten years. I need to be a better person without really knowing how that's defined. I need to combat my anxiety, I perhaps need to move house (because there are mental stressors about where we live but at the moment the convenience of the location outweighs the anguish and annoyance of having to up sticks and move - for (off the top of my head, counting the last 30 years) the 10th time.
I need to be less angry. That is extremely difficult when you exist in a world where you think the majority of your fellow humans are complete and utter selfish fuckwits.
I need to understand why people leap to the conclusion that I have ADHD or autism, or am somewhere 'on the spectrum'. Why it is that we always fall back on some sort of diagnosis along those lines rather than just evaluating and understanding someone's character, flaws and all, looking to justify slightly abnormal behaviour as "Yep, definitely ADHD or Autisim, all the signs are there". I don't believe I have ADHD, I don't believe I'm autistic. I may have some of the symptoms but not all and I wonder what would happen if I actually did put myself through the potential hell of getting an official diagnosis.
Most of all I need to appreciate my wife and daughter more. They love me, and I love them - and something that I have today that I didn't have 30 years ago was the ability to actually know what love means. Not the squishy self-gratifying initial stages of what I used to imagine love was when I pursued women like some ridiculous randy dog, but the sort of love that means you are willing to do almost anything for someone, and know that they've got your back too.
Writing a blog also helps. Particularly when you know no-one will ever read it.
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