A topic other than depression . . .

Sidney has turned out to be a truly wonderful dog. I knew from the first day that he came to live with me that he was a good dog. But even I could never have imagined how great he would become. Granted, he has had the opportunity to truly flourish while living with my parents over the last year. They have been able to provide him with an environment better suited to his needs than I was able to do. Mostly, he needed more space and a fenced-in backyard, and I do not have either. My mother has done a great job of caring for him, and he has become very attached to her, following her around all over the house, and sleeping with her every night. Sometimes it upsets me to see how attached he is to her, after the time that he and I spent together. He and I still get along famously, and we have a lot of fun playing together. But I still envy that she gets to spend so much time with him. It's hard to let go, I guess. Despite my tear-filled request that she not spoil him when she came and took him away last summer, she has gone ahead and spoiled him rotten. It's nice that she buys him all sorts of toys. He loves to play, and having a vast selection of toys seems to make him happy. But she also gives him too many treats. I am of the school of thought that you should provide dogs with two healthy meals a day, with limited treats during the day. But she takes it too far, something that she did with previous dogs and which I believe led to their healths deteriorating prematurely, ultimately ending with their deaths. I beg her not to give him people food with lots of salt in it; chips, nuts, and the like. But she doesn't listen to me. That's her way with just about everything. My father and I have even talked about how "You can't tell your mother anything. She always thinks she knows what's best." And it's important with dogs to control their diet. They really should not eat people food, except on very rare occasions. Dog food is specially formulated for their nutritional needs. And both my sister and I think that Sidney has gained weight since he went to live with my parents. He's not fat, by any means. When I got him, he was downright skinny, and I adjusted his diet so that he put on a little much-needed weight. It's not good for any dog to be overweight, but it's particularly true for dachshunds because of their long backs. They need to be kept slim and trim for their prolonged health. But my mother shows little to no restraint in offering him both treats for dogs and treats for humans. It drives me crazy. I try to say little things here and there when I see her doing it, but it does no good whatsoever. She eats too many snacks herself and has gained weight in recent years, despite requests from her PCP to lose some weight. And she seems to reward Sidney for being such a good dog with treats, much like she seems to reward herself. Both behaviors upset me, and I feel absolutely helpless to change them. She just doesn't listen to anybody.

I feel like it's been an eternity since I had anything to say that was positive. So, even though it's not that big of a deal, I did want to report that today was an okay day for me. I was late getting out of bed, as I have been lately. But one has to consider that I went to bed around three in the morning, after doing a little reading. I didn't feel as anxious today as I have recently. I didn't seem to have that "edge" that I frequently complain to my doctor about, that keeps me from ever feeling "comfortable" during the course of the day. I was not nearly as miserable as I usually am, so for that, I am thankful.

Although I have been battling the depression since early 2006, each time I experience a flare-up, there are some things that remain constant and others that are different. For instance, last summer, I was sleeping all of the time. Deep sleep. I was exhausted, and I would have to force myself awake and up and out of bed. This time around, I'm not sleeping. I don't even remember the last time that I had a good night's sleep. I think it might have been two weeks ago. Since then, I have been unable to fall asleep much before four in the morning, and my sleep has been restless and frequently interrupted. I stay in bed far longer than I should, far longer than all of the experts suggest, in the hopes that I may find some peace in several continuous hours of sleep. But it hasn't happened. It's very common for people with depression to experience sleeping problems. It's also common for them to reverse their waking and sleeping hours, finding their most comfortable, productive time during the overnight, while spending the daylight hours under the covers. I'm caught in that cycle right now, and I would love nothing better than to change it.

Meanwhile, I am beginning to experience frustration from people in my life. My parents, mostly. Having done a lot to try and help me get better last summer, they are finding it more difficult to provide that same level of support this summer. My mother is the worst. I'm not really sure what's going on with her, but she has been distant and cold toward me since she returned from three weeks spent in Chicago following the birth of my niece. I don't know what kinds of things were talked about between my sister and her husband and my mother, but it seems that from the moment she got off the plane, she was giving me a hard time about just about everything. Unfortunately, it was shortly after she arrived home that I became depressed again. Whether or not it's a causal relationship is unclear. For years, I put up with what I can honestly say was "emotional abuse," beginning during my teenage years when a young man typically experiences a separation from his mother. But I managed to work through it, and I tried to build a decent relationship with her. And it has been decent at times. For instance, when she came back to Pittsburgh from Florida last November to help me get back on my feet when I was going through a particularly difficult time with the depression. But now she feels as though she has done her part, and she doesn't want to provide the help that I need right now to keep going while the depression tries to drag me down. I really hope that I am not at the point now where my depression fluctuates according to my relationship with my mother (read: I just want my mommy to love me.). But it's clear that something has happened to her to cause her to want little to do with my depression. That leaves my father as the understanding one, and you may remember from posts written last summer that my father is old school and has a tendency to think that if I just "pull myself up by the bootstraps," then I can beat this thing. My father is retired, and he still gets up at six every morning. He certainly can't understand how and why I would spend the day in bed. I don't know. I feel like I've just skimmed the surface of these issues with my parents, but it's so complicated and in many ways, hard to put into words. We all have issues with our parents, right? But for all of the years that I was able to deal with those issues (probably by internalizing them, rather than dealing with them in a healthy manner), now I seem particularly vulnerable to them. And I know that thinking about them is making me feel worse, making me sicker. But when I'm lying in bed and I can't sleep, my mind naturally starts to ruminate over them. As an adoptee, it's almost a given that I would have abandonment issues. But now they really seem to be haunting me.

I have not written anything recently because I have been very, very ill. I am glad that my vast readership feels compelled to write comments. I appreciate them, even the ones with which I may not agree. I would like to say a few things about my depression. Despite my attempts to be honest about my condition and how I'm feeling, I tend to leave out many details of just how bad it is. I do not like drama or hyperbole, and I am a very guarded person by nature. But I am a very sick man. And despite the work by mental health professionals to help me get better, I have only experienced periods of feeling somewhat "normal." But even then, I can tell that there is something "not quite right" with me. And then the depression comes back. And I can't figure out whether it is caused by something, some trigger. Or could it be caused by a medication issue. Regardless, it comes back. And when it does, I am so sick. Physically, as I've said before, I feel like I have a bad case of the flu. Mentally, my head is so tied up in knots that there are times when I can't even form a coherent thought. And what some of the professionals with whom I've spoken about my condition tell me is that people with severe depression like mine commonly think about or even attempt to kill themselves. Throughout this ordeal, I have maintained the attitude that that is not even an option. I know what it's like to live a happy life, and I want so desperately to return to that. But it's getting harder and harder to convince myself that that is a possibility, with so many setbacks. I feel like my life is passing me by, and my days are often so unpleasant that I would rather just sleep through them altogether. And I used to be a person who tried to enjoy every day as much as I could. But now I'm just so sick. And I'm growing very weary of it. I just can't imagine this as being the way my life is going to be. I find myself wondering whether I would want to live a life where suffering from depression is my baseline. I don't think that I can do it. It's just so awful. And my condition is affecting the people in my life who I love and value, and I feel so horribly because they have to deal with me like this. For the most part, they have demonstrated patience and love. But as the depression lingers on, I know that strains are being put on those relationships. But sadly, I am in no condition to do anything about them. I usually feel worse than I even let on, because I know that most people can't fully grasp the magnitude of my illness. But no matter what your opinions about or knowledge about depression, I can tell you this: I feel worse than you think I feel.

I can't sleep. It is very frustrating. The last few days have been frustrating. Unfortunately, I have been experiencing another depressive episode, this one as a result of a change in medication that didn't turn out so good for me. I started to feel sluggish last Thursday, and that continued on Friday and Saturday. By Sunday, I was in full-blown depression. I spent most of Sunday in bed sleeping. For me, depression tends to manifest itself as a severe case of flu-like symptoms. And when I have a bad case of the flu, I usually stay in bed. So I did that Sunday, and then Monday I slept all day, suffering from intermittent chills and hot spells throughout the day. But then on Tuesday, although I stayed in bed, I was not sleeping, but rather tossing and turning restlessly for most of the afternoon. Then when I went to bed Tuesday night, I really couldn't sleep at all, and that continued through much of Wednesday. I dozed off a few times, but I never really fell into a deep sleep. Wednesday night, after a very pleasant night over at FF's house watching the season finale of "Lost," I came home, watched some TV, read for a little while, and went to bed shortly after 2:00. But I have been lying in bed since then, completely unable to get even close to sleep, and not feeling particularly tired. So, here I am, writing a blog when I would much rather be sleeping, albeit not all daylong. I am feeling better than I was a couple of days ago, with the flu-like symptoms starting to fade. But I want to sleep. Sleep.

It did not rain yesterday. I still can't believe it.

So, last night I went to my first Pirate game of the season. In fact, since I didn't go to a single game last season, it was my first game since sometime during the 2007 season. It was also my father's first game of the season. It was pretty fucking miserable. It was a cold night, and it drizzled throughout the game, causing no more than one-third of the paid attendance of 9,775 to actually attend the game. It was the smallest crowd for a Pirate game that I've gone to. The stands of PNC Park were just empty, with many of those there leaving their seats on the field for shelter from the rain in the concourses. The Pirates played with their usual lack of talent against a much better team in the Milwaukee Brewers, who easily won the game 8-5, marking the 17th game in a row that the Brewers have defeated the Pirates, the longest such streak since 1970.

The only "good" thing that happened at the game was when the Brewers Ryan Braun hit a pop-up foul ball into the stands and headed right for where we were sitting. A fellow sitting in the row in front of us attempted to catch the ball, but it bounced off of his hands and landed in the empty row behind where I was sitting. So, I just turned around in my seat and grabbed the ball. In all of my years attending Pirate games, it was the first foul ball that I've ever gotten. A small consolation, given the miserable conditions of the whole experience.

All things considered, I was able to get a pretty good night's sleep on Saturday night. I did wake up once while the police and tow trucks were doing their thing, but that may have been because I had to go to the bathroom. Other than that, I didn't feel disturbed. Welcome back, Dick's Pittsburgh Marathon!

I suppose the return of the Pittsburgh Marathon on Sunday after a five-year absence is a good thing for the City. However, it spells certain doom for my sleep on Saturday night. You see, I have lived in the same block of a street on the Marathon route for more than eight years. Which means that I know from previous experience that at about three o'clock in the morning on the night before the race, several police cars and tow trucks will arrive on my block to issue parking tickets and tow cars that have failed to observe the No Parking signs that will be hung along the street between now and then. The police cars will have their lights going, and the tow trucks will make an immense amount of noise when they are towing multiple cars from the block. This will go on for a little while, and then finally once all of the cars on my block have been towed, the police and tow trucks will move up the street to the next block. But for the period that they are on my block, I have historically not been able to sleep because of all of the commotion just outside my window. I have rather enjoyed the reprieve during the last five years of the Marathon's absence, but with the race's return this weekend also comes what I describe as "my worst night of sleep of the year."

Excited by the team's good start to the season, Pirate players like Andy LaRoche have been doing "the wave" when they are at bat.

I'm definitely getting soft as I get older. As many of my readers know, I have a strong aversion to winter, sometimes leading to bouts of Seasonal Affective Disorder, just another disorder to add to my growing collection of them. Anyway, so not only do I dislike winter, but it also makes me depressed. I got through last winter largely by spending the worst seven weeks of it in Florida with my parents and Sidney. I essentially missed last winter. Now, in only the second day of temperatures around 86 degrees, I couldn't hold out any longer, and I put the window air conditioner in on the second floor of my condo. It was starting to get a little stuffy up there, and there was no breeze coming in through the open window. Maybe April 25 is a little early to be using the air conditioners. But it's bloody hot outside. And now I'm sitting in cool, air-conditioned comfort.

You see, I know that my sister has more flattering photos of Baby Evelyn, because I got some of the other photos from my mother. Why my sister chose to send yesterday's photo (in addition to another that was almost as unflattering) around to her friends (and older brother) to announce the birth of Evelyn remains a mystery to me. She's a cute baby. At least as much as any baby is.

This is my niece Evelyn. I thought all babies were supposed to be cute.

Still waiting for the geckos to come out.

Adventures in Florida . . .

Sidney always believed (whether rightly or wrongly) that there were geckos hiding behind the big black electrical outlet.

In an effort to promote lagging ticket sales for the bevy of action films starring Nicholas Cage, some theaters are now giving away life size wax replicas of the former "Leaving Las Vegas" Academy Award winner. Although not as easy to carry home as a bobblehead doll, the wax replicas are still rather popular with some moviegoers.

My parents and Sidney arrived safely and without incident in Pittsburgh yesterday morning. My parents seem well, although they have made their displeasure known about the temperatures here being significantly lower than what they had become accustomed to in Florida. Sidney, being the consummate traveller, arrived back at their house and didn't miss a beat, picking up right where he left off. He loves their backyard, and he was clearly happy to be back patrolling it again. He looks great. He was happy to see me, and we got in some quality playing time yesterday. My "youth" probably makes me a little more satisfying to play with than either of my parents (read: my mother). But he is an outstanding little dog, and I was reminded yet again why I have such great affection for him. My mother brought back with her some photos of him engaged in his customary shenanigans in Florida, and I will post some of them in the near future.


And . . . I became an uncle yesterday. Big day.

Right now, my parents and Sidney are on the road making their way back to Pittsburgh from Florida. I know that they won't be thrilled with the cooler weather here, but I am looking forward to seeing them. Especially Sidney. Apparently, he was barking a bit much last night at a motel somewhere in South Carolina while my parents were next door at a Cracker Barrel having dinner. The front desk received some complaints, and they called my parents to let them know. Poor Sidney. He just doesn't know that after six months of hunting geckos in my parents' yard in Florida (and sometimes in the house, too), he is headed back to Pittsburgh where he will have to find something else to hunt in the backyard here. I'm sure he'll be great once he gets home tomorrow. He's still adjusting to be a traveling dog two times a year. I am very excited to see the little guy.


I have recently learned that Sidney had what was probably his first encounter with an elevator last night at the motel, after which he was not so interested in hopping on board this morning. I guess he doesn't like elevators.

I'm a liberal democrat, it's true. But I am not opposed to the death penalty.

Stan was in such a hurry to get to the store to buy a carton of his favorite cigarettes before the tax hike took effect that he forgot to put on his man-bra.