I don't get depressed too often, but every once in a while I feel....ornery.
It's never gotten to the point where I'm in "MY NAME IS DEMETRIOUS" mode (been close a few times), but my demenor changes in subtle ways that kind of alarms those that are close to me.
It gets confusing because growing up I always thought that as a man it was preferable and honorable to be stoic, to put a silencer on your hurts, resentments and outrages, especially in this era where posturing up as Human Veal seems to be what validates a man.
It seems that path gets pushed hard, and it makes me default to suspicion.
...but all the women in my family have been telling me to take meds for quite some time. However a lot of them are in the health care industry, and I feel that their zeal to push meds on me come from their own professional bias. Besides, you can't Uncle Tom all the time: Even when a man is drydocking his psyche it's still swimming in a sea of testosterone.
Also: What if I lose my edge? Is better to domesticate my thoughts (which on my best days are half charnel house, half snake-pit-which I've long assumed is the same of every man who is honest with the dialouge inside his head) at the cost of my steez which gets me paid, laid, and my enemies slayed?
I also see the effects meds have on some of my clients who suffer from explosive pediatric issues...some become fat and/or lumpy, and torpid. The white ones get this sweaty, shiny, greasy sheen on them. It's like all the points on their behaviors have been dulled to round edges. It makes me feel inside if I'm careless enough to think too much about it.
And what if it's not me? What if a season of anger is actually the healthy human reaction towards living in a fallen world?
Anyway...who do I pay for this session?
