Hog’s Back beer. Well, they’re not sponsoring me, but that would be amazing. At the same time though, that would be unethically stupid. Although, that would be an interesting premise to get this blog sponsored: Getting random companies to give me money to run my experiments on myself. Again, that’s a shit-ton of ethics that would be possibly violated, but…need money. Oh, well.
That’s the most awesome picture I’ve taken in a while. I mean, what can be better? Got the Stanley Cup Finals on (Rangers won to stay alive and take it to Game 5), very local brew that’s straight from Ottawa, Ontario, and a very comfortable couch.
The Experiment
So the point of this experiment is to get a better idea of where I am with my SSRI withdrawal, because the last one was a bit of a bust. There were just way too many confounding variables to get an accurate read on my anxiety because too many things were jacking it up. There was the stupidity that is the scheduling for my psychiatrist, and then there was the screwjob by life, once again.
I’m so sick of this broken record, so I’ll make this quick. Basically, I found out that an old high school crush has been living in the same city as I’m living in for several years now. Great, hope, right? Wrongagain.A week after contact, she made it official with this guy she was seeing that they’re in a relationship. Seriously, you can’t write this shit up! Even my psychiatrist was flabbergasted at “my luck,” which is in actuality, my life…who I want to drive my knee into his balls. Suffice it to say, I was at a (7), possibly higher.
But, I’m getting angry thinking about it again. I was angry for about two weeks over that and didn’t get much of a chance to hit the gym over it. I only have work for the next few days so I only have that to deal with. Hopefully nothing stupid happens…again.
Yeah, I really regret having two beers over this past weekend. It was great during the Walking Dead marathon, it was great during the Rangers/Habs playoff hockey game, but since Monday, it has gone downhill from there on an 80 degree angle.
Tuesday was the worst though. The head-shrinking Doc had to move our appointment back from the previous Tuesday because he forgot about some meeting elsewhere and I was told that it would be at the same time at 11am. I was pretty annoyed with that to begin with because it was coming up to a month since I saw him last. I showed up just before 11am and they told me that I no-show’d and they were going to charge me $100. I almost lost it.
$100 is a lot of money to me right now, especially when I have three jobs and I’m barely scratching 20 hours. That is some good bourgeoise bullshit right there. I already owe them $200 from previous screw ups, whether from my end or theirs, but this past week was enough for me to start thinking that universities are nothing but a money-gouging scam.
Seriously, don’t bother going unless you’re really curious and want to learn about a certain subject that you absolutely love. Aside from that, it’s so not worth it. Unless you’re in some engineering or computer program, you’re going to come out with nothing because everyone and their cats have some kind of bachelor degree out there, putting you on equal footing. I’ve heard people say that the bachelor’s degree is now the high school diploma, and that it’s an educational cold war out there in the labour market.
Don’t get me wrong though, I’ve been enjoying my experience, but if anyone’s going to rip me off, at least be up front with me and tell me that you’re ripping me off; I would respect you more for your honesty.
But I digress.
I ended up in the library, talking to my friend on Facebook who tried to calm me down. She suggested I try one of those anxiety apps and I settled on this one. It focuses on hypnotherapy, but that wasn’t the sole reason why I got it; it was free. I’m not going to lie. 😉
The catch was that for a dollar I can skip the hypnotherapist’s intro and skip straight towards the actual hypnotherapy. It’s for a dollar, and I recently got a free iTunes gift card from redeeming my Air Miles, so I figured, why not? It actually worked very well when I got back home from campus; so well that I was almost late for work.
The Hypnosis
I guess this would fall more towards a new-age-type of psychology, which I just realized that we never touched upon in university. I’ve never been hypnotized before, and from what I heard, there is a relatively small percentage of the population that just can’t be hypnotized. Suffice it to say, I was curious to see if I was, and if this app was going to do what it said it would.
A couple of sessions isn’t enough to say that it does work though, but the experience certainly was pretty cool. The guy first starts off with focusing on some spot on the ceiling, and then lulls you to sleep with his monotone voice. When he mentions, “…You’re eyes are getting heavy,” boy, howdy, does your eyes get heavy! But I think I was able to hypnotize myself before, too, because I remember focusing on something long enough with my eyes open, the eyelids go heavy regardless. I think that’s why fatigued driving is so dangerous because you’re so focused on the road for so long; you just hypnotize yourself.
The scariest part for me is that I can’t stay awake long enough and pay attention to what the guy is saying. He could be telling me to go kill some animals for all I know as I’m sleeping. But, I do know there have been numerous studies in the…late ’80s to mid-’90s at the latest that say that subliminal messaging while you sleep is bullshit anyways. So either way, Homer Simpson won’t be able to speak with such words, nor lose the weight he wanted to lose (I think he’s perfect the dumb way he is).
But all in all, I think there’s something still going on with my hippocampus with the SSRI because I don’t think the alcohol should not have affected me this badly. I don’t think it ever has when pre-Cipralex either. Strange…
Here’s a random song. Remind me to talk about this in more depth later.
Sorry I didn’t update my experiment yesterday. By the time I got back home, I was spent because I was able to pull off 3 hours of a workout. To be fair, though, I spent the last half hour on the bike, warming down; and it was actually more like 2:53, but we’ll keep that to ourselves. 😉 We’ll start from the top, to the best of my recollection.
The Workout Report
I woke up, not feeling depressedagain.That is such a weird feeling. Big breakfast, went to a meeting with the editor to discuss my new piece, and then it was pain time. I wanted to do more cardio, specifically running, but I was getting shin splints again so it was pretty painful. Instead, I worked on foot work for hockey and sprints for about the same amount of time as I would running a mile. After that, weights. Not much of a change there, but I can honestly report that I had to dig very deep to tap into my anger to fuel the repetitions. Because I haven’t worked out consistently in a while, I had a bit of trouble with the bench press. I thought I could do a little more because I was able to do two 45lb plates (90lbs+bar=135lbs) with ease, so I thought I could add my old two 55lbs plates and do my usual 7 reps while tapping into my rage. Nope! By the sixth rep of my final set, I was already spent. I did a few more light exercises, trying to recover for more strenuous ones before I gave in. By that time, I was already two and a half hours into my workout, and didn’t even complete half of what I normally do before I sprained my ankle.
My operational definition was whether the alcohol combined with my SSRIs (Cipralex) would help me get angry enough with my depression to last longer in a workout. Factoring in that I haven’t been able to hit the gym very often and consistently since September, I I was able to last three hours, when my op-def was supposed to be two and a half hours. At the same time, though, the fact that the alcohol didn’t kick in as much as I’d like to, and the fact that I played a hard hockey game on Sunday and went for both a hard aerobic and anabolic runs on Tuesday, may have helped my endurance out a bit for Wednesday. Hence, there is still experimenting needed to be done on this because of the lack of controls and too many confounding variables involved to render this a complete success. All in all though, I think this whole thing about using SSRIs as a performance enhancing drug may be something worth considering…you know, for athletes who are stupid enough to go through suicidal thoughts for a month and a half (minimum) in order to perform better.
The Odd Reaction
Speaking of the alcohol and Cipralex, I woke up feeling crappy today! Yay! I so did not want to get out of bed because I really didn’t see the point of any of it. I was also feeling pretty crummy (5.5) all day, but still wasn’t as high as I thought my B-Day plus 1 and plus 3 would be. (It was a (6) for both days.) I had my flashes of depression, but it still wasn’t big.
I can’t remember if I’ve said this or not, but I think my hippocampus is mostly repaired. I’m saying this just from the reaction I’m getting from the alcohol, how quickly I recover from letdowns and disappointments, whereas, before, it would linger for weeks. I’m still unsure about Bernadette, or my life, but it feels more of an acceptance of what happened more than anything at this point.
The Professional Stupidity
For the regular followers of my blog, you’ll know that I’m batshit crazy about hockey and golf. This news article is something incredibly unexpected coming from the hockey world. There’s also a video of the interview on the right side of the article under “Tough Times” for context afterwards.
You’ve read it? Because everything I say after this won’t make sense until you’ve read it. Okay, good.
Sorry, Rick, you were “kidding?” You weren’t kidding there, bud. My initial reaction upon reading that article first was being upset that someone would joke about that kind of stuff, but after watching the interview, he really wasn’t kidding. This guy has had many injuries in his career, including multiple concussions, and there is evidence out there that concussions can cause depression and suicidal thoughts. I wrote about this before, and NFL’s Junior Seau’s brain was examined by the National Institutes of Health and was diagnosed posthumously with chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), which, according to his son, led to depression. The athletes I mentioned in the last blog link I posted were all enforcers and energy players. They fight. They get punched in the head. They have concussions. But, again, I digress, because that’s an argument for another time.
The New York Islanders organization has said that they will deal with Dipietro internally, which is the right thing to do.
On the flip side of things though, I have crocodile tears for this guy. He signed a 15-year contract worth $4.5 million per year, and he’s whining about not enough playing time? C’mon, buddy. He signs a lucrative contract, where nobody would want to take you, and then a sudden gust of wind would break his bones. On top of that, it looks like he goes out of his way to get hurt, too!
He was the one who made contact with Matt Cooke. Now, for all the non-hockey fans out there, Cooke is one of the dirtiest players in the National Hockey League, but for the record, he has cleaned himself up in the past couple of seasons. Anyways, Dipietro knocks Cooke down, all of Dipietro’s teammates rush to his aid (not sure why, but that’s the hockey code), Cooke’s goalie comes out to challenge Dipietro to a fight (again, hockey code, I guess), and Dipietro gets another concussion after one punch.
….What…was…he….thinking…?
However, going back to Dipietro’s apparent depression, I can see why people may not sympathize with him much because he makes $4.5 million a year for playing hockey (and sometimes, he sits and watches it too!). I mean, I live in an awesome first world country, with running water, a roof over my head, and more than enough to eat. There are those who spend all day getting just a few litres of water to drink and bathe, and they still have to beg for food. That just goes to show that depression and mental health in general are, in my view, a neurological issue that can be cured, either with pharmaceutical products and/or talk therapy.
Wow, I wrote a lot tonight. I found this amazing youtube clip last night of two of my favourite bands during one of my insomniac nights…even though I was exhausted. Yeah, I know, depression is a weird thing. But the song has a new kind of beauty to it being played like that, instead of the usual hard rock, album version. Crank this up.
So I got up this morning, expecting to feel like crap. My reality would set in as to why I’m up, what have I got to live for, the usual bullcrap. The problem is, it didn’t. Aside from my laziness from actually getting out of bed to turn on the heat (the asshole landlord set the thermostat to reset to a lower temperature at certain times), I didn’t feel a tinge of anxiety and depression. Weird. Granted, I did drink quite late at night, and I’ve always thought that after sleep, it’s a new day; not a “full” 24 hours. It’s almost 24 hours now, and aside from being quite tired and having just a little bit of the anxiety earlier today, I don’t feel like my usual depressing self. This is quite weird especially since I always feel like crap after a night of drinking.
I should point out thought that it really doesn’t matter how much alcohol I consume that triggers an intense period of anxiety and depression. I’ve had a pint before, a few drinks, even a sip of wine, and those would send me for loops. But chugging an entire pint of delicious Hoegaarden and nothing, that is strange. Hoegaarden has an alcohol content of 4.9%, Canadian beer has 5%, and wine has 13%…ish. I don’t think the content has has anything to do with it, but if the amount of booze doesn’t, maybe it does. Even if it does, 4.9% and 5% isn’t that much of a difference. In the last experiment with Hoegaarden, this and this happened. So I don’t understand.
I know I should be feeling at around a (6), but the highest I’ve gotten today was a (4), maybe a (4.25). This is really bizarre. I really hope I feel crummy tomorrow because that’s the whole point of this goddamn experiment, and I won’t be able to try again for a long time. I’m kinda worried now.
The Subconscious
Both my counsellor and psychiatrist (yes, I have both, that’s how messed up I am) have been telling me that I may be subconsciously seeking who are unavailable to me; which is about…oh, 100% of the female population, no biggie. I don’t see how when I think of going after women on dating sites, single women, and whatever’s socially acceptable nowadays. The Doc today spoke of how I can’t read women and their mannerisms, which is true, and why I go after them when they’re not interested. Personally, I think that’s just how women are: Want nothing to do with me. How the hell am I supposed to know when I haven’t had one attracted to me? That’s just psycho-babble.
So in a nutshell, I’ll try to analyze it using Freud’s psychoanalytic theory. We’ve all heard about the id, ego, superego…the picture with the iceberg. I’d show it, but I couldn’t find a decent one that doesn’t go into detail psycho-babble, so I’ll just explain the basics of it very briefly.
Id: I prefer to think of it the carnal wants of the personality, and not just Maslow’s basic needs in his hierarchy. It could also be, “I really want to relax, but I have so much chores to do” and ends up relaxing.
Superego: I think of this one as the pompous asshole who just has to do everything what is socially acceptable because it’s the “right” thing to do. Suffice it to say, I normally tell mine to shut it.
Ego: The one that finds the balance between the id and superego.
Now that I think about it, it’s kinda like the three guys in The Hangover. The Doc also mentioned that I’m afraid of what might happen if (big if) I get involved with someone and she ends up ruining me with something big, like a break-up or something. Apparently, I can see that being a very bad thing and wants to avoid it all costs. I don’t see it because I want to get waist-high in that shit, but again, psycho-babble. I also know for a fact that it often takes a while for patients to see what’s really going on inside their subconscious so I’m pretty sure this is one of those things because I’m at a loss for words as to how else to deal with this.
The Emptiness
So it’s just been over 24 hours since my Hoegaarden and I’ve been writing this thing off and on for a couple of hours. I’ve just started to feel the depression hit me a little harder right now as I was writing that last paragraph, but still not significantly enough. Maybe it’ll go through in the morning? I don’t know…
Here’s a song as part of an album that I’ve been waiting for in the mail forever. Back in Shithole, Ontario, it would take a week for anything to come up from the states. In Ottawa, though, I guess because of all the federal officials, it takes longer to pass security for anything international, but that’s just a guess. I was also hoping I would be able to rip it to my phone so I can listen to it while I destroy my body tomorrow, but guess not. I know I’ve already posted this song in its acoustic version a few blogs ago, but this is the album version; can’t find a decent live version. Oh, and the guitarist is HOT.
When I was a rent-a-cop supervisor (one of those security guys who drives around) several years ago, one of my underlings was very bizarre, even for me. I went to the apartment he was supposed to be “watching over” (I let them do whatever the hell they want so long as they stay awake and make sure their building doesn’t burn down…less work for me, the better) for our nightly round in the underground parking lot. If memory recalls correctly, we were talking about one of the guys who also works at this particular site when this underling was off and I mentioned that he’s a good guy, or something along those lines. As I was doing my paperwork in the front of the building, out of nowhere, he got out of the car and was on the phone, crying. I remember just looking at the guy, wondering what the hell was going on. It was, after all, 3am and after a few months of doing graveyard shifts, your mind starts to play tricks on you. After a while, I get a call from my supervisor about this guy and asking what exactly I said to him. She agreed that he was a little off the deep end, but I found out afterwards that he was legitimately hurt that it appeared that I was favouring the other guy over him.
I’m starting to understand how he felt now.
He felt like such an outcast that he thought he could reach out to me, but finding him also weird, I didn’t feel comfortable with it. So, he also kept getting rejected by others. I hope he’s doing okay now. At least I have friends.
The Bernadette Fallout
I’ve had a few people tell me that she’s just a chick, who cares? That’s true, but that’s not my beef. My beef is on life. Based on the numbers in my life, I should have had at least one person who was interested in me for me, not what I can do for her or to make her feel better about herself. One. But the answer so far is zero.
Math is a constant in the universe and a lot of people tell me that the two are independent of each other, but I beg to disagree. Math is life. Without math, we wouldn’t be here, there wouldn’t be a way to empirically tell a lot of things in social sciences; therefore, there is something wrong with me, like my underling. What it is, I’ve only had one friend tell me that I should love myself first, and be confident. I laughed. Kinda hard to do that when my entire life has told me that no one was ever attracted to me. Numbers don’t lie like people.
That said, I thought up a new, easier, and cheaper way to off myself. Again, 15 years, but it may be 10 at the rate I’m going. There really isn’t a point to living if it’s going to be one disappointment after another. That’s not living at all. That’s just…existing.
The Deliciousness
In my last blog (if you can call it that), I was drinking delicious Hoegaarden beer (a lot of it) and came up with a couple of David Caruso one-liners with a friend. According to past experiments here, here, and here, I should’ve passed the peak of the depression on day 2, which is today. It wasn’t really much of a depression, more like me being angry at myself for being what I am. I’m not quite sure this time. If being at a (10) is at my suicidal worse, it would mean that it should’ve been an (8.75) yesterday, and a (9.25) today. Oh, yes, I’m getting up there. I so want either a beer or for it all to end right now, but I have neither. This fucking sucks major donkey balls.
Anyways, I’ve been writing all day and I’m incredibly surprised that I was able to write this much, but I’m just plain exhausted right now. Here’s a random song.
Wow, it’s been a while. I’ve actually been more busy with school and life stuff than with the anxiety stuff. Since my last post, I’ve been sitting at a comfortable average of (2); just something for statistical purposes. Over the weekend, I went back to that shithole to visit my folks, ran a tactical assessment of a friend going to York University and what the area around her habitat is like, snuggled the shit out of my cats, and tried looking for an all-important textbook for a paper for one of my law classes…I think I already donated it to some third world country that doesn’t speak or read English. Dammit. Maybe I’m the one being OCD about this, but I try not to be a hoarder…I already have a big enough mess in my room as it is. lol
I’ve also been writing an editorial for the school paper on a recent decision our student council made. I’m not going to tell you what I’m writing about until it either gets published, or rejected by the editor. 😉 But what I can say is that I’m for the motion, but against the result.
The Beer
I have been getting antsy in the pantsy about the money situation again since I’m still waiting for that damn loan to show up. Running out of food, too. The stupid thing I did yesterday was buy beer instead of using the money for groceries. Oh, yeah, Hoegaarden is awesome. Found a place in Gatineau, Quebec that was selling it on sale for a six-pack of bottles and it came with a pint glass. I love Hoegaarden. I think it is the greatest beer ever made. It’s a smooth Belgium wheat beer that’s just…beer-gasmic. On the obvious downside, however, I started getting depressing thoughts in combination with the Cipralex before I went to bed, and when I woke up. It wasn’t anything major, but it did take me a few seconds to realize that I drank last night and it was worth it. Nothing else came from the beer for the rest of the day, but it’s not like I did much.
The Schooling
I spent the entire day avoiding the peak of the heat wave (42C…and that’s with humidex) in the coldness of my basement, just working on school stuff. It’s starting to affect me as to how fast this semester’s going and how little time I have to do it. I’m not regretting this decision at all, since it certainly beats the alternative of working, and I also love my law courses because it has been blowing my mind with some of the concepts discussed. Doing these courses will also lighten my workload for this coming school year, so I’ll be better able to concentrate on doing better in quality over quantity.
The Newbie
I had someone contact me over the dating website the other day. Yeah, good news right? Honestly, I’m not so sure. From the pictures she posted, I’m not physically attracted to her at all, but we seemed to have clicked with humour for the most part. We’ve been e-mailing back and forth for the past few days and she just fired off this long-ass e-mail that’s worthy of being a novel. For some reason, that kinda scared me. She also opened up about her telephone phobia rather quickly…like really opened up. I’m glad she did because that satisfied that end of my curiosity, but she also went into details about a lot of things way too fast. I’m just hoping that she’s not that into me already because that’s kind of scary desperate in a stalker-ish sort of way.
Anyways, that’s all I have to report. I guess the newbie thing is the only thing worth noting. I’ve been feeling at a (2), thanks to my cold basement. Remember to post a comment if you know of any mental health sites you like to see on the right-hand bar.
Another random song. And it’s really random…
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Making it easier to understand depression and neurology. It's okay, you can laugh.
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