Monthly Archives: January 2019

If you’re going to help, then fucking help! – How to really help someone with depression

help

When you’re down in a hole you’re constantly reminded that logic will get you out. Every single person you know of will all of a sudden be the voice of reason; you need some sun, get back on your bike, move countries, if only they knew that every single fibre of your human being KNOWS that any, if not all of these suggestions are completely valid, BUT, when you’re in the hole it’s dark, you’re bent over, debilitated and unable. When you’re in a hole logic makes no sense at all.

Part of getting out of the hole is to stop ignoring the people who care about you and start accepting help. I’m pretty much out of the hole now and have had loads of clarity on the subject of accepting help, so hopefully by sharing these experiences I can help others help others.

For whatever reason I had a new credit card issued at some point. The new card had a new number which threw out the direct debiting of my bills. The bills piled up and I was being charged interest as I just couldn’t get around to opening mail. My mum (bless) decided to take over and she’s been getting payments up to date and reconnecting direct debit services. She noticed that Energy Australia failed to access my mains reading (out on the street) and for 3 months in a row charged me an estimate, but on the 4th month (being last month) they got access to my mains box for a reading and sent through an accurate bill PLUS a bill of over $1200 to pay for the excess use of energy (as they estimated way low for the 3 months they couldn’t reach my mains box).

The latest bill, and the additional bill for the 3 months I was undercharged, was taken out of my account direct debit BEFORE the date on the invoice which Mum wasn’t happy about so she asked if she could come over, get me to call Energy Australia to allow her access to my account so she could fight with them on the phone. Keep in mind at this time I had no ideas what she was talking about. I just snappily went through security questions with the Indian lady on the other end of the line and passed my mum the phone.

At the same time as mum was on the phone I had got a worker outside ripping off sheets of corrugated plastic off my deck roof. The wind here is something else at times and my roofs been falling apart a sheet at a time. I’ve been meaning to fix this for a year or more but just haven’t been able to get around to it. Instead I’ve just dealt with the flapping and crashing noises the sheets make on windy days (deafeningly loud btw but when you’re in a hole you just mix it in). I’ve got construction next door too. They knocked their house down and are now just at the end of a 1.5yr new home build. It’s been noisy for so long, in retrospect it can’t have been good for me to sleep in my lounge room which is closest to the flapping roof and construction next door!

I’m trying to zone out and play my computer game. Woosah. I got this. 2hrs later mum gives up and Dianne decides to give it a go. She jumps in there and starts blasting whoever it is on the other end of the line at Energy Australia. I see and hear something I don’t really want to see. If the girl I’m seeing is speaking to another human being in that way then surely in future she could speak to me in that way too? Yucky thoughts. I decide to stop everything and ask mum what the fuck is going on. She explains the dealio and I lose my shit.

Dianne was arguing for no reason at all as everything was right and as it should be. IE: Energy Australia undercharged me for 3 months as they had to make a guesstimate because the house construction next door blocked them from reaching my meter panel. I now was sent a bill to pay for the energy I used during those 3 months. For various reasons mum was angry. I get that, but what did she want? A refund of some sort? An apology? I wasn’t so sure in the end but I pulled both Dianne and mum aside and with a deep breath and in a very calm fashion I let them both know that OK; I get that you’re trying to help me, but if you’re going to help me, THEN FOR FUCKS SAKE PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME! I had to make it clear that the stressful vibe that was my mum and Di blasting nastiness over the phone started at 10am and went all the way through to 2PM and I needed them to note that despite good intentions, none of their efforts helped me at all.

The example above might be overkill, but it was a real moment of clarity for me. Sometimes when you’re in a hole you’re in your head and you just can’t reply because replying takes effort and when you put effort in you get grumpy and start blasting people. Another classic example; Di and I are in the car. Hey I’m out and about! Mum calls Di, Di puts mum on speakerphone and Mum asks if I’d like any lunch. I’m indifferent but hey, sure. Mum then asks what do I want for lunch and I almost lose my shit. I shut up because I know that’s the best thing to do when I get like this. Di noticing my dummy spit takes the call off speaker and speaks to mum, a few seconds later Di asks me that mum wants to know what I’d like to have for lunch…

I lose my shit again. FFS why is this so fucking hard?! Get me lunch, or not, it really doesn’t matter, but if you’re gonna help me then FFS just please, please fucking help me.

So I hope these examples can help to further understand how you can more easily help a friend who’s down. For me, it took a while to get going on my own power again, but you know you’re getting out of the hole when you start getting mad at the help, so mad because you feel that if you want shit done then you’ve got to do it yourself. That’s motivation right there! If that isn’t a wake up call then I don’t know what is!

PS: Sadly this reads better on medium than it does on my own blog (compare reading thew above to the same exact copy but on medium: https://medium.com/@justinfox_30083/how-to-really-help-someone-with-depression-d8705f1b346d). I’m keen to re-work this blog to make it easier to read (old man now, this small type is really doing my eyes in lol).

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Gratitude

Just wanted to express massive gratitude to all the Sydney Girls High, Sydney Boys High and UNSW COFA friends that have reached out over the past few months. I’ve read all your messages and they’ve all taken me back to the greatest parts of those innocent days. You guys somehow got me then and I’m honoured you still got me now!

I have great intentions to reply to everyones amazing messages, to catch up in real life… if I could teleport friends in and out I would! But the messages are building up fast and if I go there I might just drown (again).

Ever since I got any kind of traction, replying to every single message I’ve ever gotten has always been my thing. I always wished people would reply to my messages when I was younger, and hey I figured that you never know who these kids could be in future, so I was happy to reply to everyone, even all the silly/lazy questions.

But I’m tired and replying to everyone has gotten a lot harder. I understand there’s got to be a 2 way conversation, but right now I’m just trying to focus on creating once more.

So again; to all those who have sent me private messages, especially those who have played a part in making me me, THANKS SO MUCH for the love and sincere apologies for not replying.

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Ice-cream makes everything better

scar

I’ve got a scar across my left eyebrow from an incident I had in Primary School. I’m not sure exactly how old I was at the time (I was at Kensington Public School from years 1-3, so I assume I was 7-8 years old), but I remember a couple of kids had formed a tank/battering ram with their bodies; each kid had one arm around each other and the other arm pointing at me in a fist (thus army tank like?!).

They shoved me into the toilet blocks and cracked my head open. I remember seeing their faces in shock. I remember looking down at both my hands which were covered in blood. I remember a teacher rushing over to me. I have vague blurry images of being in an ambulance, but in the front seat, not the back.

I remember seeing my mum at the hospital and a nurse asking if they turned the sirens on for me (they didn’t). I then remember having a cloth put over my eyes whilst I listened to nurses as they stitched me up. I couldn’t feel any pain, but felt immense pressure on my head every time a stitch went through.

I remember them talking about my mum outside, and one of them saying an ice-cream will fix me right up. I remember getting that ice-cream too, and my grey school shirt was unbuttoned all the way down and my Clarks Koala singlet was bloody to my belly.

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Lose the training wheels

It’s 3PM and my angel (Dianne, who’s been taking care of me for the past 2 weeks) is gone. I’ve not been comfortable in crowds for a while but yesterday we went to the mall for lunch. Halfway through my meal the noise of the food court became an issue. I asked Di if it was fucking loud in there, she agreed it was fucking loud. I heard 3 distinct layers of sound all vying for my attention. It started to get too much but instead of running (which is what I’ve been doing; IE: freaking out in public and having to be ushered outta there pronto) I was happy to just stay and breathe.

I sat there and started to feel like none of this was real. I felt like this mall wasn’t made for me, that all these people in the mall aren’t like me at all. I felt lonely and I then burst into tears in Eastgardens food court, great.

Dianne got me home, but again, it wasn’t a manic rush to get out of the mall at all. I would have been happy to stay in there… sure I had a wobbly, but I was FINE. I loaded up YouTube and clicked a thumbnail of a 7+ minute video of Jim Carrey making an acceptance speech (I figure 7 minutes is pretty long, he must be saying something?!). He spent his short time on the mic saying some real shit, like how Charlie Chaplin’s funny walk is actually due to the fact that he was so poor he had holes in his shoes, and thus walked that way to alleviate the pain. I mean, picture that, a comedian who can’t even tell a joke when the mic is presented to him, instead he feels the need to use the opportunity to wake people up and make them realise he’s a comic who can’t say jokes right now because the world is fucked.

I had another huge cry. Later that day Mum came around, I showed her the Carrey video and again I broke into tears. It’s all good though! I feel like I’m coming to. I feel high as a kite 24/7 now on this Quetiapine. I actually feel a body high, so much so I feel it would feel totally naughty and illegal to drive on this shit as I just feel SO high. I have ZERO cravings for nicotine or bong hits, but this body high is pretty full on right now. The next few days without Di will be interesting (I’m feeling positive).

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Antidepressants – an update

Just an update on my journey with antidepressants (if you missed the first feature, you can check it out here: Antidepressants).

A LOT has happened since my last update. Yesterday I caught up with my psychiatrist Dr Hyde (it was his first day back from holidays). Dianne came with me this time (it’s been Mum every other time) and as soon as we sat down in his little office we were on like Donkey Kong. Rapid fire, that’s what it felt like really. A whole lot of heavy information regurgitating and bouncing off the walls.

We talked about swapping out Efexor for another antidepressant that doesn’t have much of an impact on my libido, but truth is I had already run my own experiments with Efexor and had come to the conclusion that I didn’t need it. I was initially on 75mg of Efexor/day. When I first saw Dr Hyde early November we doubled the dosage and I started taking it in the morning rather than night. I started to have low libido issues about this time. I literally couldn’t even come to porn. I then upped my dosage to 300mg/day and I was waking up without a hard on at all, and that alone was making me more depressed than anything! One day I decided to see what 600mg of Efexor would feel like; the next morning I literally woke up with pins and needles in my dick which hung around for most of the day (I even had troubles peeing that day).

At the same time as all of the above I smashed my bong (with my Dads hammer making it a little more significant perhaps?) and decided to go cold turkey on weed. I coughed up a shitload of dark hard phlegm over the first few days and amazingly the freaky noises I was hearing and feeling in my chest whenever I took a deep breath were completely gone (making me realise that bongs might not be THAT bad as it only took a week for the shit to come out?!). I was also sweating profusely all day and worse at night where I’d wake up freezing every few hours in a pool of sweat (and have to change clothes or move to the couch as my mattress was soaked).

Going cold turkey on weed was hard. I lost it more than a few times. I caved in on day 7 and smoked a spliff. I was of-course instantly happy, smiling and even laughing again. What was different though was that one spliff made primarily of tobacco with a sprinkling of leaf was enough to get me SO high. For a few days I smoked 3 jays a day, one day I cut it down to just one jay that day but the sweats came back hard and so too the yucky bits of me I didn’t like.

I watched an opinion piece on YouTube comparing bongs to joints. The guy reminded me that bongs are dirty things! I remembered that the bongs I smoked in high school were made out of Mr Juicy bottles and bits of hose we cut from someone’s lawn. Over time I somehow convinced myself of glass bongs being a legitimate respectable thing, but I can’t really see them being anything but filthy right now.

This train of thought really needs expanding as it’s all still very new to me; but I’ve somehow gotten off bongs and it truly does feel like “just like that”. For the past few days I’ve smoked no more than 3 weak jays a day. Something has definitely changed.

So back to Dr Hyde. All the above came out during yesterdays session. He doesn’t believe I am suffering from depression anymore, instead we’re going to focus on my anxiety or bipolar-like symptoms. IE: my mood swings. We’re increasing my dosage of Quetiapine before bed to get a better night’s sleep and he also suggested that since Quetiapine is not addictive, I can quite comfortably take more as needed during the day. IE: If I feel like smoking weed I could replace the weed with a dose of Quetiapine. Scary thought huh? But hey, happy to give it a go.

It’s now the morning of the first night on a larger dose of Quetiapine and for the first time in a very long time I’ve had a solid 9hrs of sleep (I’ve been averaging 4hrs of broken sleep usually and have had rare occasions of 5hrs sleep maybe even a 6hr sleep semi-recently). I woke up high as a kite. I felt absolutely ripped but my head is sharp. It’s loud up there too, very. I’ve been spamming social media all morning. I’ve been writing this… that brings us up to date. My next meeting with Dr Hyde is in 4 weeks from now. Dianne, who has literally been taking care of me daily for the past 2 weeks leaves tomorrow. It’s going to be interesting to see how I go alone over the next few weeks.

Reminder to self – I’m still in a hole within a hole. The weed addiction and depression is one thing, but there are bigger things that I know I need to deal with too. That I’m not in denial about.

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I’m Done

Caught up with an old mate the other day, slowly but surely I’m letting people back into my life.

Funny thing is; when he turned up it didn’t take too long to realise that he was the one with the huge issues. A few beers in and he admitted that he (like many of my mates who actually come over to visit me irl) actually used the invite as an opportunity to talk to me about his problems.

Funny, right?! I mean, here I am, more fucked up than ever, and yup, even when I’m down I still somehow manage to pick people up and they always leave my door in a much better state than when they entered.

It got a little scary last year when I kept on repeating “I’M DONE” out loud, scary then that this mate of mine was saying the same shit in front of me. He’s calling out for help, it’s obviously he does need some, and I have a couple of suggestions for him lined up, but I know I can’t take his problems on board, if anything I’m just going accept that he has issues right now, and I’ll try to connect him to a few people I know that might be able to help him out professionally.

/rant.

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Sometimes it’s OK to be Crazy

I’ve spent a fair bit of time to discovering and processing this midlife crisis thing. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s some sort of enlightenment, an unlearning of everything I ever thought I knew. Over the past few years I’ve been freeing myself from the rules of society for my own mental and emotional benefit. I’ve become more detached from society in order to save my own health and sanity. IE:

In order to stay sane I’ve had to become what others call crazy?!

But I’m not crazy. My eyes are open and I speak the truth, people can’t handle that so they call me crazy! I realise how ridiculous society is and I now more clearly see through the bullshit that we’re all constantly shovelled.

I’m merely waking up and ultimately I have to just embrace it.

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Crossed Up

viv_topdown_h1

Low Libido? No worries! Late Friday Night hangs and impromptu shoot with the one and only Viv. Dark, blurry and most of all grainy set of shots in my photo folio: http://www.justinfoxphoto.com/stories#/crossed-up/

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Skate and Died

skatepark_maroubra
Chicken legs, no power, no balance, nothing…

skate_knee
Skate Park 1 – Justin Fox 0

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Thanks but no thanks

Thanks (but in some way no thanks) to all of the people who have been reaching out in private over the past few weeks. I’m sorry (not really sorry) that I haven’t been picking up your calls.

I’ve got my mum and Dianne is living with me and she’s been taking care of me for the last week and will be here for another week too.

Asking me if R U OK? is NOT real, or suggesting I get some exercise or catch up for a beer is part of the issue. If you know me at all you would know I out talk pretty much everyone, and I have absolutely no issues in talking (it’s more about doing in any case, right?!).

I’ve just spent a good hour and a half talking to Caryn, my first love of 7 years. She’s legit the best. As Aussie and a true Byron Bay hippie you’d ever meet. And quite simply I couldn’t commit to children at the time and that’s what split us apart.

During the call I yapped on about all the shit that matters to me right now, the feeling of being bullied as I seem to get banned off every social media platform these days for sharing something real and trying to make a difference, but in reality a lot of it doesn’t make sense to her in sunny Byron Bay…

Dianne and I have tried to spend serious time on trying to figure out exactly why I feel like ending it all, why I feel so so so so so tired of it all, and in the end I feel like I’m more frustrated than depressed.

In regards to weed. I’ve been smoking it since high school. In high school I was one of the few Asians in my class and I copped racist crap daily. It got to a point where in year 12 I literally set up my art canvas in the stairwell, jigged classes and painted whilst the rest of the school were in Latin class or some shit. When the bell rang kids would stream past me and see some weird little Asian dude painting hot chicks on a canvas with his bare hands.

In reality I smoked weed throughout my entire professional career as a graphic designer running my own agency (2 in fact). I created Australian INfront high as a kite. I spoke at Semi-Permanent for 1 hour in front of 3,000 people stoned, I created JDMST and ZEN Garage totally stoned too. Everything you guys have ever seen from me was created stoned.

Anyways, since taking these antidepressants (which I know in my gut were never going to be right for me) I haven’t at all been able to get it up (lol?). I wake up every morning with a dead dick… It’s just not right. I’ve tried wanking to all sorts of porn, nothing worked. I’ve also had a lady friend try to help out and again, nothing but embarrassment and feelings of emasculation (which in reality is legit making me even more depressed).

I’ve lost my appetite (I literally can only eat one meal a day). I also can’t shit on this stuff. It’s blocked my bowels up pretty bad and I find myself sitting on the toilet forcing it out daily now.

Is this shit better than weed? I mean, these pills are meant to balance out my head, inject serotonin or some shit. Why not give me an ecstasy tablet every morning instead?! That’s for sure going to do more than this crap.

End of the day my mind is not at all made up. Truthfully told I know I have ADHD and I’ve inadvertently been self medicating myself with weed which has allowed me to achieve everything I wanted to achieve in life (and more). I’ve committed to seeing my psychiatrist on Monday. I’m really fucking killing my mum and I know it and I am asking for help.

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