Is there anyone out there?

I have been trying to be proactive and seek out help from trusted friends and family to open up to and talk to about my depression and darkness. While I feel it is a very important step in the process and having those close to you understand what is going on in your head, I am finding it to be really difficult and challenging. I have reached out to 3 people and told them exactly what was going on and got 3 different responses. I guess I don't know what kind of response I was looking for but none of them was what I was expecting. The first was very supportive and non-judgmental and listened openly. I expected this from this friend. They have always been totally open and understanding. But still, she wasn't sure what to do with that information and what I was expecting from her... I guess I don't either. The other two just basically responded... "Dude... that sucks." and I think I scared them away or freaked them out. There is so much pressure and attention given to those suffering to reach out to friends to support... but what are you to do when those friends don't understand? I want to talk about this and have an open and honest talk with those that care but all I am finding is my wife who will actually listen and understands, and that is ok but I wanted someone outside of my family. None of my friends truly understands depression. They think I am just bummed out and think I need to hear more jokes or funny memes to keep me happy. While that does help, it isn't the solution.

I sit here in my basement, listening to Chuck Ragan, just envisioning the long road of recovery ahead and it feels so daunting. I know I am not going it alone as I have the support of my wife and parents, but I still feel alone. My wife and I sat down and told my parents everything today. They knew I was depressed but not to the suicidal extent. It was difficult to do. To tell my parents I wanted to die and was having these thoughts. I told them that I trusted my wife with making decisions on inpatient care if she felt I wasn't able to make those intelligently on my own. It was good to talk to them. They both understood and gave me their support in whatever we needed. This is the hard part - when you tell people this, they immediately ask what they can do.... and thats the thing - I don't know. I guess just listen and not judge. So, if I made this blog public and someone else is reading this - if you are approached by someone who wants to talk - just listen. Ask questions. Listen openly and just check in with them to let them know you are thinking about them.

It felt really good to just talk to my parents. Open and let it out - which makes me think maybe I should be hospitalized just so I can focus on healing, with no distractions to interfere. I will see how the next few days/hours go. Unfortunately it is an hour by hour thing at this point. I dont feel I am in danger to myself at this point but it comes and goes so quickly it is hard to know what tonight is going to feel like - and that makes my anxiety incredibly high.

Song of the day - Don't Say a Word - Chuck Ragan

"Damn the world. Damn the pain, and find our way."

Fuck Hope - Signed me.

Today I had my initial appointment with a counselor. The counselor was the therapist my wife and I have been seeing. I was nervous about talking to her about what has been going on in my life. Thankfully, my wife called her the day before and gave her a quick low down so that made it easier to break the ice and talk. We talked about the depression and darkness and how to manage it and where it came from, how to avoid it and discuss a treatment strategy. As we started talking about the suicidal thoughts I have been having, I determined that it was only beneficial if I was 100% honest. So I opened up and told her everything. And I mean everything. I told her how suicide has always been an option for me in the back of my head. Granted, it has been like option #3 or #4 but it was always tucked in the back of my mind and recently, it had been making its way to the forefront and that scared me. I also told her how there has always been reasons and obligations to stay alive (kids, wife, family, friends etc) and once I thought about that stuff, the motivation to stay living was there and I could move on. But recently, those reasons aren't as strong. Instead of thinking of my kids and using them as a reason to stay, my brain changes it to "ok, how can I do this to be less impact-full and less traumatizing to them? (Meaning, they wouldn't see my body or etc) This is how the depressed brain works. Rational thought is completely lost. As soon as I told her this, she said excuse me and called psych intake and made an urgent appointment for me with a Psychiatrist and another psychologist. ( I wanted to see someone different for my personal issues outside of her since she was our marriage counselor) I was scared that I was going to get locked up into a padded room and strapped down. I assured her that I wasn't in any danger to myself at that point. She got me an appointment the following week. It felt good to have a plan in place and to start the recovery process. I know this is going to be a long journey but it has to start somewhere. I need to get out of this. I have hope.....

But what is hope? Why should I have hope? Hope isn't shit unless I put in the effort to make it to the other side. It is hard to tell a depressed person to have hope. Sure, I hope that I wake up tomorrow and can function normally and feel great. But I know that isn't reality. I have determination, not hope, that I will beat this and resume a life I want. Hope is one of those non-tangible elements that you can't really see, feel or understand. It almost feels like an empty word. This needs more than hope. This needs work and determination and all my effort.

So, Fuck Hope - signed, me.

Song of the day - Ebbing of the Tide - Casting Out

"I give what I have left, tonight. I give it all back without a fight. I've already lost my mind, so many times. I stand cold and hollow eyed against the ebbing of the tide."

History repeats itself

When I was 17, I was diagnosed with depression. I was miserable and down all the time. I didn't understand why. I smoked a lot of pot and drank just to help fill some sort of void I was feeling in my life. We all know that that doesn't ever really help or solve the problem. It got so bad that I attempted suicide. I wrote a suicide note telling my parents it wasn't their fault and that I was sorry. I downed what was left of a bottle of Advil and a handful of sleeping pills (13 to be exact - strange I still remember that) I left the note under my pillow and went to sleep. Despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came. I woke up and felt like complete shit. My stomach was tore up. I couldn't eat. I felt like my stomach was filled with acid and being burned up. I tried to throw up but nothing came up. I was fucking miserable. I was still depressed, still wanted to die and now I was in incredible excruciating pain. I remember thinking I should have just put a fucking gun to my head. I had truly wished I had died. But I am one that is always searching for meaning in life and so I felt compelled to understand why I was still alive. I broke down crying. I was tired of feeling down and depressed. If I wasn't going to kill myself, then I had to figure out a way to fix my head.  I told my parents that I wanted help and to talk to someone. (They still don't know about the attempt on my life to this day - not many do) I started seeing a psychologist who was kind of a dick. He didn't really believe that I had depression and just thought I was trying to act cool or that it was the cool thing to do. I never told him about my suicide attempt as I was scared that the white coats would come take me away. I also had a psychiatrist. This guy was cool. He understood me and let me talk and didn't judge. I was put on Prozac and within a few weeks I started to feel better. It was really relieving to feel like myself again. Granted, with the help of big pharma, but still, I felt like myself. I stayed on Prozac for a few years until I was 19 then I decided I was ready to go off. It was a big decision but I felt comfortable with it. As I started to go off it, I gained weight - big time. It was at this time that I started dating my now wife, Jessica. I know it scared her that I was going off it but she still supported me. I remember being tired constantly. Skipping college classes just to go sleep at her house. I ended up getting to a good spot however it took quite a while.

Fast forward a couple of years. I remained off it and started to feel more anxiety in my life. Not wanting to socialize. Just wanting to be alone. I was in college in Fargo at this time. I have always had an easy time making friends and fitting in, but I was really struggling with that in college. So I retreated to what worked in my youth - drugs. In hindsight, I should have known that that was a horrible horrible idea but I was 23 and felt disconnected. So I turned to getting high and have a horrible experience. It wasn't like it was before. (More on that experience in a different post maybe). My anxiety starts interfering with everything in my life. Just talking to people in public makes me anxious and nervous. The thought of even answering a question in a classroom makes my palms sweat and heart race. Somehow - I manage to graduate college with a double major and with honors. As I move back home and start to focus on being an adult and getting a job etc, I make the decision to go back on Prozac to help with my anxiety. Like I previously said, I have always been an outgoing, outspoken guy but lately I had been recluse and reserved. One day after I had started Prozac, Jessica and I were out to lunch with our friends Dave and Mandy. Dave asked the waiter how big the personal pizza was and the waiter said "it is about 10 inches" and just out of nowhere I blurted out "Dave, if you need to know how big 10 inches is, I can show you!" Everyone just stops and is stunned. I can't believe I said it myself. The waiter laughs. Jessica said "well looks like the Justin Titus is BACK!"  I will never forget that day. The day I started to feel like myself again. Alive and happy. I have been on Prozac since then. It has been almost 10 years.

Fast forward to a year ago... I start to feel dissatisfaction with life but I cant really put my finger on what exactly it was. I had started a new job that I wasn't extremely in love with, the addition of my daughter who was more difficult than my son was as a baby. Things between me and my wife started to change. There was a distance. I can feel the dark clouds coming in but in my head I think " hey I am on Prozac managing this so it CAN'T be depression." It had to be something else. So I start looking at other things in life that I am not happy with. Then I start looking at what I can do to make me happy? I learned to stay away from drugs. I have abstained from alcohol for a few years now and didn't want to get back into that. I didn't have much of a crutch or vice. Then I start to realize that I was having dark thoughts... suicidal thoughts come back into my head. How do I die? Would anyone care? I can escape all this. Holy shit. It is back. I am 36. I shouldn't be feeling this. This is a teenage thing - I have everything I ever wanted in life... what the fuck is going on?

Song of the day - Picture Window - Ben Folds

"You know what hope is, Hope is a bastard. Hope is liar, a cheat and a tease."

48 Hour Promise

Today was a bad day. I ended up taking a personal day to just take stock of life and be alone. Through this depression, I really crave being alone. I want it all the time. Being alone is also what ignites my depression bouts. It makes my brain go to places I try to avoid. It is almost like I enjoy it when in reality I don't. I went to to the Electric Fetus to do some retail therapy and buy some music to hopefully inspire me. I got some really good stuff - Minor Threat, Sharon Jones, Chastity Brown, Pennywise, Prince, Donny Hathaway and Joel Shapira's new jazz record. A really good mix bag of tunes. The Chastity Brown record is really good and I am looking forward to putting that into my regular rotation. I got my acoustic guitar restrung today. There is something about being in a depressive state that really inspires me to write and play music. It seems to just come out.

Got to spend some time outside with the kids and not focus on my brain but them. They truly are awesome kids and I love them so fucking much. The way my girl smiles when she sees me and runs to me for a hug is enough to make me want to beat these fucking demons. But that only provides motivation and hope for a short amount of time - once the darkness seeps in, you forget about those moments and things. That is something that not a lot of people can understand. Sure from the outside suicide appears selfish and cowardly but when you are in the shit, you can't see outside of it.

It really hurts me to see how this is impacting and affecting my wife. She cries constantly and is trying to be super supportive and helpful in any way she can. Our relationship was rocky before this started and so this is just another hurdle for us. And as painful as it is, I need to focus on myself and my recovery before I can even start to fathom the idea of mending my marriage. I am not myself right now and I am not the person that my wife married so it feels wrong to try and fix something before I can fix myself. We are struggling and I have had my honest doubts if we were going to survive. We are a strong couple and I think we can weather any storm but my focus needs to be on me and I think she understands that.


In doing research in how to go through recovery, I learned that it is important to have people that you can openly talk to who won't judge you and can hold you accountable. I learned about making 48 hour promises about not harming yourself. Obviously we all want to be reassured that the person we care about won't harm themselves ever, but to a person in the darkness, it is virtually impossible to make such a blanket promise. Thus, there is the 48 hour rule. When you are in the shit, make a promise to not do anything for 48 hours. It is a short time frame that is manageable.

I felt the need to have someone outside of my wife to talk to about this stuff now and when I am going though it. Accountabilibuddy is what those hip assholes call it. I call it a dependable friend. I reached out last night to my good friend Brooke who I worked with a long time ago but we still maintain close contact. I consider her a really good friend. We have always just connected on pretty much every level. She knows my wife but isn't friends per se which I think is important. I wanted someone impartial and won't interfere with the relationship they have with my spouse. It felt really good to talk to Brooke. Turns out, she lost an uncle to suicide years back so she gets it. I just told her that I need someone to listen, not judge and just talk me down if I need it. She was more than willing to be that person. As I initially stated, I have a really good support structure. However, it is really scary to let others in and expose them to your thoughts. I guess this just tests the strength of our friendship and so far - it appears the trusses are all still in tact. I made the 48 hour promise to both my wife and Brooke.

Song of the day - Go It Alone - Jason Isbell 

"It's realizing just how close you've come to death, and rearranging accordingly."

When darkness arrives.....

I am a 36 year old father of 2 (5 year old son and 1 year old daughter). I have been married for 11 years to a wonderful and supportive wife. I own a great house in the suburbs and have wonderful neighbors as well as 2 dogs that are better than most humans I know.  I make good money working at the corporate office of a major bank where I manage digital marketing and strategy. I have some of the best friends in the world - most I would consider family. My parents are the best grandparents ever and love me unconditionally. I have the opportunity to live out my passion of music nearly everyday of my life. I am, for all intents and purposes, a very very lucky man. I am super blessed to have what I have in this world. So why do I want to die?


The thought of dying creeps into my head multiple times a day. What would it be like to die? What would people say? Would it even matter? How could I do it? Why do I glorify death and dying? Ever since I can remember, suicide has always been an active thought in my head - let me clarify - not every moment of every day I am thinking of killing myself, but it is always a thought in the back of my head as an option. I have never really told anybody this as there is such a stigma around it that I don't want to be labeled weird or psycho or whatever else gets attached to it.

From the outside, you would probably never think this about me. I am a pretty happy-go-lucky guy. Usually pretty positive. Friendly and sociable. I am usually always joking and having a good time. That is just my nature and the way I am. But there has always been this dark side of me and my brain.

So this is where I am turning. I am turning to a blog or journal in order to write everything down that crosses my head and note the positives and negatives of the days. In doing so, I hope to work through this and build my recovery. I want to learn my triggers (both positive and negative).  Maybe one day I will publish this in the hopes of normalizing mental illness and helping others that struggle know that it is ok, there are others like you and you can beat it.... or maybe it will just die with me in the deep internet archives somewhere. Either way - this is it. This is me. I wish I was stronger but I am finding out just how weak I am.

Song of the day - Depression Expression - Death by Stereo

"It's never ending, I am done pretending. All I can do is fight."