Black dogs and cunts


I’m Brian and I have an issue with the black dog.  The noonday daemon. Or according to some people I just need to cheer up.

Those people are cunts by the way.

I don’t have it as bad as some people. At it’s worst it does make it difficult to function. I was taking Fluoxetine a few years ago.  Then it got better and I stopped.  And it started again last year. So back on the happy pills I went.  But they are not that.  Fluoxetine, or as it’s know under it’s brand name, Prozac, does not make you happy.  It makes you numb.  You don’t feel worthless anymore, true.  But you don’t feel ecstatic either. You don’t feel much of anything. (Note, this is not the case for everybody.  The brain chemistry of depression and exactly how selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors work is still a grey area. But it does help an enormous amount of people).  Well, it stopped working for me.  I still had the lack of emotion but the depression was back to stay.  So I swallowed my pride, my misgivings about all the touchy-feel stuff, and saw a psychiatrist   And he’s ace.  Just started but the first thing was to change my medication.  So he switched me to escitalopram. It’s early days, but it seems to be working.  I’m able to function and have limited social interactions without running out the door.  And I am slowly getting ‘normal’ feelings back.  And the first strong emotion I have felt is anger.  Not in my normal ‘all human beings are cunts’ way. But true anger at an insensitive, irresponsible  and dangerous advert of all things.  This amazing, brave post here explains the situation:

My grandfather tried to kill himself in a car when I was was a kid.  He was a hideous, alcoholic cunt and we did not get on at all.  And this still affected me.  How this must seem to the people who have either lost a family member they actually cared about, let alone people who struggle with thoughts of self harm, I cannot even begin to imagine. And to sell a product?  This is dangerous.  Here’s just one study:

Awareness must be better.  It’s not something that you can just ‘get over’.  It’s not something to be taken lightly. It’s not just a phase.  For some people it is such a deep pit that death is the only way out, even if they love their family as much as the father in that blog post.

And you know what? The person who wrote that blog post has been receiving comments saying that it was her fault her father killed himself.  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE.  I’m lucky, I have it mild.  And I have a support network (Love you Twitter).  Others don’t (I will almost certainly write a long rant about the lack of true support available at some point. (I bet you can’t wait)).

Edit: I forget to add this:

Use, donate or support them.

I can’t say that I’m proud to suffer from depression.  But I’m working on not being ashamed of it anymore.

Next post will be some fluffeh kittinz or something. Maybe.

It will definitely involve a lot of swearing.


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2 Responses to Black dogs and cunts

  1. FoldsFive says:

    An incredibly personal and brilliant bit of writing.

  2. JQ says:

    Kudos swearyman, nice post.

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