Here is a bored medical doctor waiting for his COVID-19 duty.

#1

When I was 19 and breaking under the stress of being gay in a hostile environment. My inner monologue was one of constant policing and censoring through fear of anyone finding out; all ‘you should do this’ and ‘you mustn’t do that’. When I first got my own place, I began to hear the very first signs of a new internal voice - one that was more ‘I’ and ‘me’ rather than ‘you’. I believe it was my genuine self, tired of being pushed down and finally starting to speak up, if only to myself. I felt like two people in one - the strengthening real me and the petrified self-moderator I’d grown into - and they couldn’t coexist. They came into conflict in a bad way. I was paranoid, had unpredictable moods and shut everyone out. In my lowest moment I trashed my flat in a destructive frenzy, but that also seemed to be the turning point - as if the real me finally won control of my thoughts and feelings. What got me through from that point is a realisation that I still pass on as good advice to this day: an external battle is infinitely preferable to an internal one. Apologies for the ramble but it felt good to get this out.

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#2

There are been a lot and usually putting the bottle of alcohol back down helps tremendously. At the moment my wife wants to take a month long vacation with her sister to a part of Africa. We live in the u.s. we don't have the money or the resources. But she is refusing to see it any other way. She is checking out horrible loans to pay for it. I have finally learned to speak up. We have a house and a child. Im not going to drink over it but I will not sit quietly by and let her run me over with it. Today at least I am not helpless.

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#3

Now and we real aren’t getting over it …

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Michael Müller
Community Member
2 years ago (edited) DotsCreated by potrace 1.15, written by Peter Selinger 2001-2017

That's the main aspect of being at the lowest point: the deep belief, that nothing will get you over this situation. I've been there, I found my way, even though I still struggle. I hope that you will find your way out of that, too. It will be tough and may take a long time, but it will be worth it. Good luck.

#4

In 2013 I almost gave up entirely. I had started forming a plan and everything. I ended up telling my husband everything. He took charge of getting me help and now, eight year later, I can say with complete confidence that it DOES get better and that I'm happier now than I thought I ever could be back in 2013.

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Paddling Panda
Community Member
3 years ago DotsCreated by potrace 1.15, written by Peter Selinger 2001-2017

I'm glad you pulled through and are doing better now. I had my lowest point in 2004. My siblings and SIL helped me get the care I needed and, while I've still had some significant ups and downs since then, I've never been THAT despondent and hopeless again. You're right: it does always get better. I wish you continued health and peace.

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#5

When I was really depressed
I overcame it by getting my moms help and talking to my therapist

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#6

Very recently, in may. My life long best friend backstabed me, and then one of my other friends moved to another country. Because i was sad because of what hapened, every day was, and honesty still is, horrible. It hasn`t been that bad since 2019. I`m trying to overcome it, but it`s not working. Also aroud that time i started hating myself again

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#7

Living with someone who has battled depression for years and becoming alarmingly depressed myself during the pandemic, until I realized one of us had to stay afloat so we could survive. The way I did this was to understand that the heavy burdens they carry are not mine and you don't know how much this changed my outlook in life. I support them in all ways possible, but I now keep my guard up so I don't take the load on.

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David F
Community Member
3 years ago (edited) DotsCreated by potrace 1.15, written by Peter Selinger 2001-2017

I was running from probation in Santa Cruz California. They wanted me to go to a 90-day treatment program. So, I skipped town and went to San Francisco. I was on the streets completely broke for 3 months in the city, barely scraping by, people will help you there but not a lot. It's hard to panhandle, most days I was lucky to get $5, and I never stole or anything because I was running from the police, remember? Most the time I didn't know what street I was on and almost everyday was a constant walk up a hill somewhere. The last week I was there I lost my shoes, got some money and got jumped, got food poisoning, and that was it. I couldn't take it anymore. I decided I would go back to Santa Cruz and go to jail.

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