EssendonRam

Adopt a dog, not a crazy Jack Russell or anything, something that's past the must destroy everything age and sleeps all day. Walking into a house with a tail wagging ready to lick your face may help. Don't get too intimate with it tho, theres laws about stuff like that.

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

My attitude is this. If me and my girlfriend come across with a problem(s), we are dealing with those together. As long as we are togerher, we really are together. Anything thrown to us is dealt by backing each other up.

Years ago I had some physical issues that led me to go to the doc. He did some tests and said that there was something definately wrong but he needed to do more tests before knowing for sure what was going on. First tests however suggested that it could be a cancer and it might be in my liver. My dad's brother had died that way a few years earlier and I knew if it was a liver cancer I would be dead in a few months.
I got the first test results just before national holiday and had to wait for further test results for eleven days. I didn't want to ruin my girlfriends holiday and didn't tell her about what was going on. I decided to act normal instead.
However it took her less than a day to realise that something was up. You see for her not to notice I was worried I started to act very upbeat which is not really me and so she asked me pretty soon what was going on. I, trying to be a stand up guy told her everything was fine. Soon she asked again and said that "look I know something's up, just tell me". I told her not to worry and go spend her holiday with her family and enjoy herself.
Finally I got the results back and the doc told me he didn't know what's wrong with me but it ain't cancer. Phew. I was naturally very happy and went home. "Hey honey I need you tell something". I told her the whole story and waited her to be happy about the news and how I had handled things.
She was livid. How could have I been such an idiot. She knew something was up as soon as I walked home the first time. Actually since I was trying to act upbeat she had spend her holidays convinced that I had fallen in love with somebody else and was going to leave her. I was confused. I was trying to protect her and be a good boyfriend and I was given hell by her.
After she had cooled off she told me something  that changed my life. She loved me, she had chosen to be with me and she had every right to know what was going on in my life. And that is it. If you really love someone you should share everything with them. It's never just about yourself. They have the right to know so they can have a chance to do what they want to do for you.
So to answer the question. No, it really didn't work for me.

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

@RamDon I found your post incredibly moving to read. It was a good job I was reading it on the loo at home and not at work! As someone who floats between content and misery with regularity, I take incredible comfort (if that's the word!) in knowing that I am not alone in having dark thoughts.
I don't think I've been to the extremes though, hence the initial post asking how people know when they've hit the bottom, I've certainly had moments thinking about ending it all, and think I've almost attempted to twice over 20 years.
My situation is borne out of loneliness, and lack of intimacy, I'm sure of it. I struggle to find purpose in life. I've found a good way to paper over the cracks is by having things to look forward to. My recent holiday to Portugal kept my mind occupied for a while and gave me something to focus on, but even leading up to that, I felt incredibly low at my feelings that friends cannot make time for me, so my days were Work, Home, Eat, Sleep, repeat, and nothing else. Since returning from that holiday, the low feeling returned, and the emptiness. I've not seen any of the other 16 lads I went away with since, which is part of it.
I know a lot of people have it worse than me. SO I try not to burden people with my issues. But thank you for posting your story. 

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

Thank you. But, as I said, having experienced it and learned the (in hindsight) obvious lesson that no-one is an island and no-one should try to take everything on...no matter how strong you think your willpower is...eventually, should the breaks go against you, the load can break you.
No matter who you think you are.
More importantly, the fact is that I am extremely fortunate. I have people on whom I can rely and, for various reasons, chose not to. In my family I have always been the strong one, even as a kid so I chose to 'protect' them. Stupidly, I forgot the strength of character my sister in particular rises to when she needs to. She more than anyone else did so when I 'died' back in 2007 and she's done so once again.
As for Ned, I used to joke that he was a jinx. His previous owner was a 30ish yo bloke who suffered a stroke and never recovered. Within 6 months of adopting him, I died from my first serious illness.
But no-one should ever doubt how powerful the restorative powers of pets. As with people, sometimes you just have to let them look after you.
As for my diagnosis, it's not an act when I say I have always seen every day as a bonus since I awoke from the coma on the Thursday before the West Ham game at Pride Park. That season was a greater trauma than anything else I suffered that year!
But it certainly explains why I feel a sense of urgency in wanting to see both of my sporting loves, Derby and Essendon in the AFL, back up there while I can still remember it!

Thank you. But, as I said, having experienced it and learned the (in hindsight) obvious lesson that no-one is an island and no-one should try to take everything on...no matter how strong you think your willpower is...eventually, should the breaks go against you, the load can break you.
No matter who you think you are.
More importantly, the fact is that I am extremely fortunate. I have people on whom I can rely and, for various reasons, chose not to. In my family I have always been the strong one, even as a kid so I chose to 'protect' them. Stupidly, I forgot the strength of character my sister in particular rises to when she needs to. She more than anyone else did so when I 'died' back in 2007 and she's done so once again.
As for Ned, I used to joke that he was a jinx. His previous owner was a 30ish yo bloke who suffered a stroke and never recovered. Within 6 months of adopting him, I died from my first serious illness.
But no-one should ever doubt how powerful the restorative powers of pets. As with people, sometimes you just have to let them look after you.
As for my diagnosis, it's not an act when I say I have always seen every day as a bonus since I awoke from the coma on the Thursday before the West Ham game at Pride Park. That season was a greater trauma than anything else I suffered that year!
But it certainly explains why I feel a sense of urgency in wanting to see both of my sporting loves, Derby and Essendon in the AFL, back up there while I can still remember it!

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

@RamDon I liked your post because I didn't know what else I can do. I commend your strength - didn't "like" your message. I'm pretty sure that you understand what I mean although I have no way of putting it across. 

Wow. Thank you for sharing your story. 
Ned was lucky to have found you and now he has had his part to play. 
I hope you find a way through this maelstrom and that you get the support you deserve.

My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control. 
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.

As you can tell I'm fairly new to this forum but i've read through this post with great interest, I think its wonderful on a football based forum that this type of subject is discussed.
I was always lead to believe that as a man I should be the strong silent type, stiff upper lip, take everything in my stride, not let anything bother me. I went through life pretty happily with that outlook, no real emotional highs or lows just plodding along as most folk do.
I was then involved in a head on car crash, which was no fault of my own, nothing I could do to avoid it, one second driving along listening to Ken Bruce, next second bang.
This has changed me forever, mentally and physically. I sustained life changing physical injuries. I've adapted to them pretty well and hopefully after a couple more operations this year I'll have no more pain or the need for constant pain killers.
But mentally, wow what a difference. Mrs, kids, mortgage, no income. I was self employed so entitled to bugger all. Savings soon disappear, help from family and friends soon disappears (although I'm incredibly grateful to them). Thats when the rot sets in, i was in pain that I couldn't describe and wouldn't wish on anybody, unable to sleep so just lay awake worrying about things, the stiff upper lip soon disappears and I was a quivering, anxious, worried, in agony shell of the man I used to be. Thought about ending it all, couldn't do it to my family. But was I better alive or a burden. I couldn't even wipe my own arse, shower or brush my teeth, She was cutting my food up and feeding me! I'm sure my Mrs never signed up for that 20+ years ago!
I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress and as most types of treatment for this numb the nerves it was supposed to be the best thing for me to relieve some pain. Non of em worked, still in agony, still a nervous wreck, worried about everything. Strange side effects, some sexual ones as have been mentioned by others. No fun having a boner 24/7 and being able to go like a stallion when your falling to bits, wish i'd took em when i was 18 though.
Wow I've just read back through this and didn't realise I'd rambled on so much, i do apologise. This brings me to my point though. Talk to people, for Gods (deity of ones choosing) sake, talk to someone, anyone. I saw a therapist, very sceptical at first, but it's great to get it of your chest. I've been lucky my Mrs, kids and close family have been amazing, I wouldn't have got through it without them, I'm a different person now, I cry watching supervet on the TV, I would never have done that before my accident as it wasn't the thing to do. And the thing that got me through it all was talking to people and expressing how I felt, not bottling things up and screaming out loud when I had to!
It might not work for everyone, I can only give input from my experience, but it got me through the darkest days of my life. I'm still not fully recovered but I can see a bright light at the end of a very long dark tunnel.
 

That must have taken a lot of courage to post, @SaintRam. 

You mean they still make new music? I thought all music died after the 80s.

So still listen to Springsteen endlessly.