May 20th, 2018

Yesterday, I was a wreck.

It’s 3am right now. I was actually up since 2am. I thought I went to bed around 10pm. Maybe 10:30pm. Regardless, I’m up and, well, let me explain a few things.

My wife was nice enough to bring home some Zoloft. It’s an antidepressant. One of the perks of being married to a nurse.

I used to be on Lexapro, which took some time to get over being nauseous, then it would make me a zombie. The anxiety would go away and, if taken regularly, I would never get emotional about anything. Think of like a boiling pot. When the water gets to a certain temperature, the flame under the pot would shut off and the steam would mellow out. That was exactly how the medicine worked.

Unfortunately, it prevented me from getting an erection. Prevented me from doing anything creative (as emotion goes heavily into creative works).

These days, sex with my wife is spotty at best. That’s another story, but it’s what happens when you get married and you’re together for longer than 3-5 years. Either someone is going to cheat, is cheating and the sex between them will slow down. I can’t cheat if I’m not leaving the house and severely antisocial in real life and online. I honestly have no one but my wife. Not that I wouldn’t want it different, just no opportunities and, to be honest, it’s too much work.

My wife on the other hand, well, I’ve had suspicions. In the past, I would be hunting who she’s talking to/having sex with, but I’m distracted by school, at the time looking for work and my own depressive issues. One night she blatantly came home at around midnight from a job that was less than five minutes away from where we live. No calls. No texts until I started bitching about where she was. She eventually called me to say she was working late but that was after … forget it. That was weeks ago and I let it go.

I’m working now. See what happens if I work late.

So, these past few days I’ve been feeling worse and worse. I asked her to bring whatever she could home so I can get a grip before I start work Monday. She brought Zoloft and these are the results with one pill.

As I said, I’m up at 2am. I’m burning up and it’s not just the weather. I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts aren’t as random as they were for days, which is a good thing. However, I am sluggish, making me a touch focused on what I’m doing but slowly. Like typing this: I’m writing slowly like I was tired. But I’m not. But I should be.

There wasn’t ‘much’ of a nauseous feeling, but I’m wise to this stuff so took it at night after dinner. I felt it coming on and went to sleep.

But it wakes me up early. Hopefully, it’s just one night. We’ll see.

Which leads me to this story about a woman that seems to committed suicide recently. Her name was Stephanie Adams. Fell out of a hotel window with her son:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/05/19/us/new-york-mother-child-hotel-plunge/index.html

No, I don’t know her. I could have. Something familiar about her. The police haven’t ruled out foul play. All the same, it looks like she committed suicide and took her son with her.

As you know, I’ve gotten really low. Thoughts of suicide plague me weekly. Actually doing it — that is to say, doing it right so that it’s a guaranteed one-way trip — isn’t easy. For instance, 25-stories off a building ‘could’ conceivably do it, but what if she survived? People try to shoot themselves in the head, end up missing and living a painful life.

My first thoughts are usually how devastated my daughters would be. Then things change.

Looking over a swatch of Stephanie’s life (online profile, website, books she published), I can see she was a little ‘scattered’. I used to date women like that. Very pretty, into all sorts of spirituality and classic cases of ADHD.

But she was getting older. She married rich White men. She was going through another divorce and it was bitter. She had no money but like most women, like to give the impression she had a lot going on when she did not. She was drowning in debt, likely depressed and thought this was the way out.

She has books on Amazon and there is like ZERO reviews on any of her work. Mostly horoscope things and self-important stories about her own life. Even I know nobody gives a damn about you individually to read a book about you unless you did something outstanding.

Still, I definitely could relate to the zero attention to the writing material. 

Some of her work was up on Amazon since 2009. Christ, at least I got some reviews. 

The point is, I understood this empty feeling she may have had toward the end. The difference was she HAD attention and success in her past. She was a model so you know how that goes. You find out exactly how important you are when you get old. 

90% of these Instagram Models are in for a rude awakening.

Likely, the gas ran out on her value and you turn around and realize you might not have much talent for anything else. You keep trying to regain a level of success you had before, but it was just a face and body … and that face and body are worn out from depression, stress, divorce. That’s when the mind starts coming up with outlandish creative things that just won’t work.

I wasn’t a model. I had an ounce of success with my first book and I’m constantly trying to snatch at that glimmer of readership. I’m underwater in debt. Slightly drowning.

I could have killed myself.

Instead, what keeps me alive? My children? This law school career path?

She had a son. Hell, she took her son with her. Or at least, we’ll find out soon enough if the ex did it or not. The x probably had a prenup. She wasn’t getting any money whatsoever.

I look at her picture and think she is someone I could have known. It’s in her eyes. Desperate to obtain something. Struggling to keep it together to get there. It’s a look I am familiar with.

Last week, when I was at a low point, my concern was if I killed myself, I had to make sure my homework was in on time. That shows you the level of commitment I had in doing it.

It’s 3:34 AM. I’m getting tired. I’m not mad or distressed. No angry thoughts. Just overheating. 

Oh, and I’m alive, an ‘A’ student working toward my bachelor’s degree, got a job I start tomorrow, happily married with the usual manageable suspicions, my son graduated high school and I’m proud of him, I love my children and I’ll be taking the paralegal certification courses soon.

Looks like the Zoloft is working.