For my entire life I’ve suffered from depression. But I don’t accept this diagnosis of major depressive disorder, meaning there’s no real cause. That it’s just defective brain chemistry. I know what the cause is. And it’s so ingrained, so integrated into my personality that I don’t think anything can ever be done about it. It’s because it happened when I was three years old. My father’s death.
I was no doubt incapable of comprehending death then. All I could see was that daddy never came back. For reasons I couldn’t understand. I think this is at the root of my alcoholism. I’ve been to more PhD psychologists than I can remember. And all psychiatrists are are pill pushers. I’ve never seen one who spent more than 15 minutes with me. Just long enough to decide which pill to push. I loathe psychiatrists.
I’ve always wanted some kind of “breakthrough” like you see in Good Will Hunting. But no psychologist has ever come remotely close to touching this pain that is so deep, it became a part of who I am. I have separation anxiety. Gee. Where could that have come from? I prevent people from getting too close to me. From knowing me too well. Why? Because subconsciously I think they’ll leave. So I’m insulating myself from pain. I’ve understood this for quite some time, but I never talk about it. Not to anyone. Yet oddly here I am announcing it to the world. It’s sort of easier.
This is not a kind of pain that I feel directly. I don’t remember my father. I have two photo-like memories of him. That is it. When I think about him I feel nothing at all. But I suspect that were I regressed through hypnosis it might be a little different. But I’ve never considered going that route (despite being a certified hypnotherapist). The only things I have to go on are the resentment at least one of my half siblings feels towards my mother for how she sank into a deep depression after he died, and poured the majority of her emotional attention into me (I am her only child by him). I’ll probably be in trouble with said sibling now. 😉 Anyway this is a pain I don’t consciously feel. But as a result when my loved relatives pass away (as they’ve been steadily doing for the last twenty years) I also consciously feel nothing. Which horrifies me. It can mean only two things. It’s subconsciously building up, death by death. I’m not sure how, or when, it will come roaring out. But I doubt it will be pretty. Or maybe I’ve just been immunized against this kind of pain, and I’m truly stoic. Only time will tell.