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Depression

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13 minutes ago, Buce said:

 

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself reading back through this thread. Interestingly, although everyone's problems are unique to them, there was an underlying theme - a perceived failure to live up to other people's expectations (whether they be specific individuals, like parents, or more abstract, like society): "I dropped out of uni"; "I hate uni but my parents will be disappointed if I quit"; "I hate my job"; "I hate my career"; "My relationships always fail and don't think I'll ever be married and have kids". And so on.

 

Now, as many of you know, I'm no stranger to the Black Dog, and for some years my mental health issues were coming from exactly the same place as I've just highlighted. But that's a demon I beat (I still have one demon that occasionally troubles me, but that's not relevant to what I want to speak about here), and maybe if I talk about how, it may just help some of you.

 

I left school at sixteen to become an apprentice in the engineering sector; it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I came from a traditional working-class family and had no aspirations beyond that. No one in my family had ever been to uni, and that wasn't even considered as an option (though, ironically, my elder brother did as a mature student, after leaving school to find fame in a band, and went on to be a professor of philosophy at a major university); so, with no life plan, I allowed myself to be pushed into an apprenticeship by my parents ("there'll always be work in the engineering, lad - work your way up the ladder and you could even be a foreman one day").

 

Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Then, one night, about nine months into my apprenticeship, and stuck inside with no money, I picked up a book (As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning). The author, Laurie Lee, had, at aged sixteen, left home to travel around Spain. The book detailed his adventures (he ended up caught up in the Spanish Civil War) and on a whim, I decided to do the same (travel around Spain, that is - the war was long since over, though General Franco still ruled with an iron fist). I quit my job the next day, bought some second-hand camping gear and an army surplus rucksack, sold my car and all my possessions and walked through France to Spain. I will save my stories for my autobiography, but I spent the next twenty-two years as a nomadic traveller. I still worked when necessary (I became very adept on living on very little but occasionally I would come back to England and either get a cheap bedsit or stay with my brother, work my butt off until I had enough money, then off I'd go again).

 

So this cured my depression, right? No, not all. Because despite having the time of my life, despite visiting far-flung corners of the map (hell, some of the places weren't even on the fvcking map), despite doing stuff that most people will never even dream about, I was still weighed down with other peoples' expectations. I wanted my parents to see what I was doing in a positive light, to see me as a traveller, an explorer of my mind and my potential; but to them, I was a waster. A drifter. A deadbeat. Every time I came home, I felt their disapproval. Every time I quit my (what was always going to be, temporary) job to go off again, I sensed their disappointment. And I still felt the weight of the expectations that society had conditioned me with, fretted over my inability to 'settle down', fretted over not having a house, fretted over not having a long-term relationship.

 

No, it was a chance meeting with an old hippy in Nepal that finally allowed me to break free and like myself. Bombed out of my brains on the local hash one night, I opened up to him and told him what I'm telling you. And what he told me has stayed with me all my life: "We have a short life on this Earth, and none of us knows where we go after death, but the one thing we can be sure of is we won't be taking our money or possessions with us; we might, just might, get to keep our memories".

 

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

 

 

Sounds like your parents played a big part in things Bucey ..   but you’re right, expectation can weigh very heavily on your shoulders.  No easy answer as I believe some people will succumb to it and others won’t come what may ...  maybe a biological thing ..  who knows.

 

Great story though and will hopefully help others !!    Looking forward to reading your autobiography ..   you ageing hippy !!  :)

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25 minutes ago, Buce said:

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

 

A fine story and message. I'd just like to add that for many people, this is much easier said than done. Some will have moments of epiphany like you describe, others will need to spend time talking about, unpicking, and resolving the internalised expectations of others you mention and that is no straightforward task.

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43 minutes ago, urban.spaceman said:

 Whenever I’m down it feels like I just avoid music altogether - does anyone else do that?

 

I tend to avoid reading, which i really enjoy, and strangely, this thread which usually makes me feel good, and spend more time wallowing in the misery pit that is the general lcfc section.

 

Its just one of those obvious signs that we are slipping, that we need to be aware of and try to reverse the slide, but its easier said than done at the time, and also other reasons also impact on the same things so not always obvious.

 

For example, i am in a great place at the minute but also the busiest time of the year for my business (accountant, so my last minute nutter clients for tax return deadlines, as well as just being behind after a buyout) and after a rough time before that i havent read the book im part way through for so long i can barely remember any of it, so cant be arsed at the moment. (Just lazy though, not depressed, i hope)

Self sabotage and confused mind at its best.

 

Keep up the good work fella

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42 minutes ago, Buce said:

 

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself reading back through this thread. Interestingly, although everyone's problems are unique to them, there was an underlying theme - a perceived failure to live up to other people's expectations (whether they be specific individuals, like parents, or more abstract, like society): "I dropped out of uni"; "I hate uni but my parents will be disappointed if I quit"; "I hate my job"; "I hate my career"; "My relationships always fail and don't think I'll ever be married and have kids". And so on.

 

Now, as many of you know, I'm no stranger to the Black Dog, and for some years my mental health issues were coming from exactly the same place as I've just highlighted. But that's a demon I beat (I still have one demon that occasionally troubles me, but that's not relevant to what I want to speak about here), and maybe if I talk about how, it may just help some of you.

 

I left school at sixteen to become an apprentice in the engineering sector; it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I came from a traditional working-class family and had no aspirations beyond that. No one in my family had ever been to uni, and that wasn't even considered as an option (though, ironically, my elder brother did as a mature student, after leaving school to find fame in a band, and went on to be a professor of philosophy at a major university); so, with no life plan, I allowed myself to be pushed into an apprenticeship by my parents ("there'll always be work in the engineering, lad - work your way up the ladder and you could even be a foreman one day").

 

Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Then, one night, about nine months into my apprenticeship, and stuck inside with no money, I picked up a book (As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning). The author, Laurie Lee, had, at aged sixteen, left home to travel around Spain. The book detailed his adventures (he ended up caught up in the Spanish Civil War) and on a whim, I decided to do the same (travel around Spain, that is - the war was long since over, though General Franco still ruled with an iron fist). I quit my job the next day, bought some second-hand camping gear and an army surplus rucksack, sold my car and all my possessions and walked through France to Spain. I will save my stories for my autobiography, but I spent the next twenty-two years as a nomadic traveller. I still worked when necessary (I became very adept on living on very little but occasionally I would come back to England and either get a cheap bedsit or stay with my brother, work my butt off until I had enough money, then off I'd go again).

 

So this cured my depression, right? No, not all. Because despite having the time of my life, despite visiting far-flung corners of the map (hell, some of the places weren't even on the fvcking map), despite doing stuff that most people will never even dream about, I was still weighed down with other peoples' expectations. I wanted my parents to see what I was doing in a positive light, to see me as a traveller, an explorer of my mind and my potential; but to them, I was a waster. A drifter. A deadbeat. Every time I came home, I felt their disapproval. Every time I quit my (what was always going to be, temporary) job to go off again, I sensed their disappointment. And I still felt the weight of the expectations that society had conditioned me with, fretted over my inability to 'settle down', fretted over not having a house, fretted over not having a long-term relationship.

 

No, it was a chance meeting with an old hippy in Nepal that finally allowed me to break free and like myself. Bombed out of my brains on the local hash one night, I opened up to him and told him what I'm telling you. And what he told me has stayed with me all my life: "We have a short life on this Earth, and none of us knows where we go after death, but the one thing we can be sure of is we won't be taking our money or possessions with us; we might, just might, get to keep our memories".

 

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

 

Great read that.

 

Would definitely read your autobiography. 

 

I loved your film work, pretty sure ive sussed that you were in the doors film walking the desert in a loincloth with jim morrison

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21 minutes ago, Countryfox said:

 

Sounds like your parents played a big part in things Bucey ..   but you’re right, expectation can weigh very heavily on your shoulders.  No easy answer as I believe some people will succumb to it and others won’t come what may ...  maybe a biological thing ..  who knows

 

 

Meh, they were just products of society.

 

21 minutes ago, Countryfox said:

 

Great story though and will hopefully help others !!    Looking forward to reading your autobiography ..   you ageing hippy !!  :)

 

 

Oi, less of the ageing! I still have unfinished business.

 

The ironic thing is, when my daughter came along (completely unplanned) I had to rejoin the rat race for a while. But it's on my terms - I work smart now, not with my hands.

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21 minutes ago, egg_fried_rice said:

 

A fine story and message. I'd just like to add that for many people, this is much easier said than done. Some will have moments of epiphany like you describe, others will need to spend time talking about, unpicking, and resolving the internalised expectations of others you mention and that is no straightforward task.

 

Sure.

 

I'm not telling anyone what to do - and if being part of the rat race is your thing, that's great - but do it because it's your thing, not because somebody tells you to.

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1 hour ago, urban.spaceman said:

Achieved a few “wins” this week.

 

Today I have finally took my phone in to replace the battery. It’s annoyed me for the last 7 months to the point that I barely use it any more, and just haven’t been well enough to even look for options. Waiting for it to be fixed as we speak, so fingers crossed. I’ll ask him if he can fix my certain iPod too!

 

Finally emailed Mental Health Matters as recommended by my doctor. That’s at least 3 months of procrastinating over phoning them. We’ll see how that goes.

 

Bought a pair of Bluetooth headphones too - just a cheap pair, but hopefully it will get me listening to music more often and feeling like I’m living again. Whenever I’m down it feels like I just avoid music altogether - does anyone else do that?

 

Oh, and Monday, I submitted a script to the BBC Writers Room drama window! As did 3634 others, but I’ve seen greater odds than that overcome in my lifetime!

2

 

I avoid certain tracks, for sure.

 

But my go-to album when I feel down (Dark Side Of The Moon) brings me back to a peaceful state.

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5 hours ago, Buce said:

 

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself reading back through this thread. Interestingly, although everyone's problems are unique to them, there was an underlying theme - a perceived failure to live up to other people's expectations (whether they be specific individuals, like parents, or more abstract, like society): "I dropped out of uni"; "I hate uni but my parents will be disappointed if I quit"; "I hate my job"; "I hate my career"; "My relationships always fail and don't think I'll ever be married and have kids". And so on.

 

Now, as many of you know, I'm no stranger to the Black Dog, and for some years my mental health issues were coming from exactly the same place as I've just highlighted. But that's a demon I beat (I still have one demon that occasionally troubles me, but that's not relevant to what I want to speak about here), and maybe if I talk about how, it may just help some of you.

 

I left school at sixteen to become an apprentice in the engineering sector; it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I came from a traditional working-class family and had no aspirations beyond that. No one in my family had ever been to uni, and that wasn't even considered as an option (though, ironically, my elder brother did as a mature student, after leaving school to find fame in a band, and went on to be a professor of philosophy at a major university); so, with no life plan, I allowed myself to be pushed into an apprenticeship by my parents ("there'll always be work in the engineering, lad - work your way up the ladder and you could even be a foreman one day").

 

Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Then, one night, about nine months into my apprenticeship, and stuck inside with no money, I picked up a book (As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning). The author, Laurie Lee, had, at aged sixteen, left home to travel around Spain. The book detailed his adventures (he ended up caught up in the Spanish Civil War) and on a whim, I decided to do the same (travel around Spain, that is - the war was long since over, though General Franco still ruled with an iron fist). I quit my job the next day, bought some second-hand camping gear and an army surplus rucksack, sold my car and all my possessions and walked through France to Spain. I will save my stories for my autobiography, but I spent the next twenty-two years as a nomadic traveller. I still worked when necessary (I became very adept at living on very little but occasionally I would come back to England and either get a cheap bedsit or stay with my brother, work my butt off until I had enough money, then off I'd go again).

 

So this cured my depression, right? No, not all. Because despite having the time of my life, despite visiting far-flung corners of the map (hell, some of the places weren't even on the fvcking map), despite doing stuff that most people will never even dream about, I was still weighed down with other peoples' expectations. I wanted my parents to see what I was doing in a positive light, to see me as a traveller, an explorer of my mind and my potential; but to them, I was a waster. A drifter. A deadbeat. Every time I came home, I felt their disapproval. Every time I quit my (what was always going to be, temporary) job to go off again, I sensed their disappointment. And I still felt the weight of the expectations that society had conditioned me with, fretted over my inability to 'settle down', fretted over not having a house, fretted over not having a long-term relationship.

 

No, it was a chance meeting with an old hippy in Nepal that finally allowed me to break free and like myself. Bombed out of my brains on the local hash one night, I opened up to him and told him what I'm telling you. And what he told me has stayed with me all my life: "We have a short life on this Earth, and none of us knows where we go after death, but the one thing we can be sure of is we won't be taking our money or possessions with us; we might, just might, get to keep our memories".

 

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

 

Post. Of. The. Decade.

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2 minutes ago, Toddybad said:

Post. Of. The. Decade.

 

Bloody hell, mate, I thought you were dead.

 

Where've you been?

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Just now, Buce said:

 

Bloody hell, mate, I thought you were dead.

 

Where've you been?

Although I've answered that elsewhere it doesn't really matter.

I'm here again.

I'm going to try not to get drawn into the old bs. 

I only came back yesterday and just happened upon your post and it's more than I knew about you before.

 

The paragraph Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Doesn't explain any experience I've had but I do see this. I think similar things to that which you've described. For instance, traffic jams - something from Ben Elton's Gridlocked - if aliens looked down at everybody trying to get to work at exactly the same time to buildings clustered together in the same place and so end backed up for miles, moving slower than walking pace, in cars that carry 5 yet only house the driver, they'd think we are mad.

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17 minutes ago, Toddybad said:

Although I've answered that elsewhere it doesn't really matter.

I'm here again.

I'm going to try not to get drawn into the old bs. 

I only came back yesterday and just happened upon your post and it's more than I knew about you before.

 

The paragraph Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Doesn't explain any experience I've had but I do see this. I think similar things to that which you've described. For instance, traffic jams - something from Ben Elton's Gridlocked - if aliens looked down at everybody trying to get to work at exactly the same time to buildings clustered together in the same place and so end backed up for miles, moving slower than walking pace, in cars that carry 5 yet only house the driver, they'd think we are mad.

 

Fair enough, Toddy.

 

Great to have you back.

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6 hours ago, Buce said:

 

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself reading back through this thread. Interestingly, although everyone's problems are unique to them, there was an underlying theme - a perceived failure to live up to other people's expectations (whether they be specific individuals, like parents, or more abstract, like society): "I dropped out of uni"; "I hate uni but my parents will be disappointed if I quit"; "I hate my job"; "I hate my career"; "My relationships always fail and don't think I'll ever be married and have kids". And so on.

 

Now, as many of you know, I'm no stranger to the Black Dog, and for some years my mental health issues were coming from exactly the same place as I've just highlighted. But that's a demon I beat (I still have one demon that occasionally troubles me, but that's not relevant to what I want to speak about here), and maybe if I talk about how, it may just help some of you.

 

I left school at sixteen to become an apprentice in the engineering sector; it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I came from a traditional working-class family and had no aspirations beyond that. No one in my family had ever been to uni, and that wasn't even considered as an option (though, ironically, my elder brother did as a mature student, after leaving school to find fame in a band, and went on to be a professor of philosophy at a major university); so, with no life plan, I allowed myself to be pushed into an apprenticeship by my parents ("there'll always be work in the engineering, lad - work your way up the ladder and you could even be a foreman one day").

 

Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Then, one night, about nine months into my apprenticeship, and stuck inside with no money, I picked up a book (As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning). The author, Laurie Lee, had, at aged sixteen, left home to travel around Spain. The book detailed his adventures (he ended up caught up in the Spanish Civil War) and on a whim, I decided to do the same (travel around Spain, that is - the war was long since over, though General Franco still ruled with an iron fist). I quit my job the next day, bought some second-hand camping gear and an army surplus rucksack, sold my car and all my possessions and walked through France to Spain. I will save my stories for my autobiography, but I spent the next twenty-two years as a nomadic traveller. I still worked when necessary (I became very adept at living on very little but occasionally I would come back to England and either get a cheap bedsit or stay with my brother, work my butt off until I had enough money, then off I'd go again).

 

So this cured my depression, right? No, not at all. Because despite having the time of my life, despite visiting far-flung corners of the map (hell, some of the places weren't even on the fvcking map), despite doing stuff that most people will never even dream about, I was still weighed down with other peoples' expectations. I wanted my parents to see what I was doing in a positive light, to see me as a traveller, an explorer of my mind and my potential; but to them, I was a waster. A drifter. A deadbeat. Every time I came home, I felt their disapproval. Every time I quit my (what was always going to be, temporary) job to go off again, I sensed their disappointment. And I still felt the weight of the expectations that society had conditioned me with, fretted over my inability to 'settle down', fretted over not having a house, fretted over not having a long-term relationship.

 

No, it was a chance meeting with an old hippy in Nepal that finally allowed me to break free and like myself. Bombed out of my brains on the local hash one night, I opened up to him and told him what I'm telling you. And what he told me has stayed with me all my life: "We have a short life on this Earth, and none of us knows where we go after death, but the one thing we can be sure of is we won't be taking our money or possessions with us; we might, just might, get to keep our memories".

 

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

 

Shut up and pass the bong you silly old git lol.

 

Great post. I wouldn’t say I have ever suffered from depression but like most people I guess I really struggle sometimes and more often than not it is work related. I’ve found myself in a position at work where I would have killed for a year ago but for an extra £100 a month the levels of stress are tenfold. Financially, I really didn’t need that and am lucky enough to be part of a household that does really well but after being backed into a corner by the management team to take this position the driver was what you say, people’s expectations.

 

I often find myself thinking about how possible it would be to just disappear off the map but that would really be a selfish thing to do but I am massively envious for you being strong enough to bugger off and do what you do.

 

Did you watch that Ben Fogle program on 5 the other night? A couple did exactly that and were loving life.

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1 hour ago, Costock_Fox said:

Shut up and pass the bong you silly old git lol.

 

Great post. I wouldn’t say I have ever suffered from depression but like most people I guess I really struggle sometimes and more often than not it is work related. I’ve found myself in a position at work where I would have killed for a year ago but for an extra £100 a month the levels of stress are tenfold. Financially, I really didn’t need that and am lucky enough to be part of a household that does really well but after being backed into a corner by the management team to take this position the driver was what you say, people’s expectations.

 

I often find myself thinking about how possible it would be to just disappear off the map but that would really be a selfish thing to do but I am massively envious for you being strong enough to bugger off and do what you do.

 

Did you watch that Ben Fogle program on 5 the other night? A couple did exactly that and were loving life.

 

I’m not sure that I’m being strong, Costock. If life is a game, it’s one that I’m not very good at - I don’t even get the rules sometimes. All I know is, sometimes I need to do my thing to remain sane. I’m tremendously lucky to have a woman that gets me - in truth, she’s far better than I probably deserve. She’s the real strong one. 

 

I don’t know who Ben Fogle is but a lot of couples live a more or less nomadic existence now. Van life has become really popular as social media allows them to make a living as travelling bloggers (digital nomads is the term, I think). I follow a couple of people online that are, to all intents and purposes, professional hikers that live off sponsorships. Now that would really float my boat if I was young, free and single. 

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11 hours ago, Buce said:

 

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself reading back through this thread. Interestingly, although everyone's problems are unique to them, there was an underlying theme - a perceived failure to live up to other people's expectations (whether they be specific individuals, like parents, or more abstract, like society): "I dropped out of uni"; "I hate uni but my parents will be disappointed if I quit"; "I hate my job"; "I hate my career"; "My relationships always fail and don't think I'll ever be married and have kids". And so on.

 

Now, as many of you know, I'm no stranger to the Black Dog, and for some years my mental health issues were coming from exactly the same place as I've just highlighted. But that's a demon I beat (I still have one demon that occasionally troubles me, but that's not relevant to what I want to speak about here), and maybe if I talk about how, it may just help some of you.

 

I left school at sixteen to become an apprentice in the engineering sector; it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I came from a traditional working-class family and had no aspirations beyond that. No one in my family had ever been to uni, and that wasn't even considered as an option (though, ironically, my elder brother did as a mature student, after leaving school to find fame in a band, and went on to be a professor of philosophy at a major university); so, with no life plan, I allowed myself to be pushed into an apprenticeship by my parents ("there'll always be work in the engineering, lad - work your way up the ladder and you could even be a foreman one day").

 

Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Then, one night, about nine months into my apprenticeship, and stuck inside with no money, I picked up a book (As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning). The author, Laurie Lee, had, at aged sixteen, left home to travel around Spain. The book detailed his adventures (he ended up caught up in the Spanish Civil War) and on a whim, I decided to do the same (travel around Spain, that is - the war was long since over, though General Franco still ruled with an iron fist). I quit my job the next day, bought some second-hand camping gear and an army surplus rucksack, sold my car and all my possessions and walked through France to Spain. I will save my stories for my autobiography, but I spent the next twenty-two years as a nomadic traveller. I still worked when necessary (I became very adept at living on very little but occasionally I would come back to England and either get a cheap bedsit or stay with my brother, work my butt off until I had enough money, then off I'd go again).

 

So this cured my depression, right? No, not at all. Because despite having the time of my life, despite visiting far-flung corners of the map (hell, some of the places weren't even on the fvcking map), despite doing stuff that most people will never even dream about, I was still weighed down with other peoples' expectations. I wanted my parents to see what I was doing in a positive light, to see me as a traveller, an explorer of my mind and my potential; but to them, I was a waster. A drifter. A deadbeat. Every time I came home, I felt their disapproval. Every time I quit my (what was always going to be, temporary) job to go off again, I sensed their disappointment. And I still felt the weight of the expectations that society had conditioned me with, fretted over my inability to 'settle down', fretted over not having a house, fretted over not having a long-term relationship.

 

No, it was a chance meeting with an old hippy in Nepal that finally allowed me to break free and like myself. Bombed out of my brains on the local hash one night, I opened up to him and told him what I'm telling you. And what he told me has stayed with me all my life: "We have a short life on this Earth, and none of us knows where we go after death, but the one thing we can be sure of is we won't be taking our money or possessions with us; we might, just might, get to keep our memories".

 

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

 

Beautiful story Buce!

 

I can’t wait for the autobiography!

 

I’ve travelled a fair bit too and when I do I really feel alive. The issue is coming back and stagnating. I don’t fit in the same box as everyone else, much the same as you. It’s finding that niche that is the hard bit!

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11 hours ago, Wymeswold fox said:

I've known someone who used them and they couldn't recommend them enough when they had a tough, unfortunate life situation.

 

Am sure that they'll help with you with you requirements/needs, too.

You're making a very positive step towards combating something that is still unfortunately a stigma in today's society.

Cheers Wymesy. Feeling better just for having emailed them!!

 

11 hours ago, gw_leics772 said:

I tend to avoid reading, which i really enjoy, and strangely, this thread which usually makes me feel good, and spend more time wallowing in the misery pit that is the general lcfc section.

 

Its just one of those obvious signs that we are slipping, that we need to be aware of and try to reverse the slide, but its easier said than done at the time, and also other reasons also impact on the same things so not always obvious.

 

For example, i am in a great place at the minute but also the busiest time of the year for my business (accountant, so my last minute nutter clients for tax return deadlines, as well as just being behind after a buyout) and after a rough time before that i havent read the book im part way through for so long i can barely remember any of it, so cant be arsed at the moment. (Just lazy though, not depressed, i hope)

Self sabotage and confused mind at its best.

 

Keep up the good work fella

I have the reading problem too! I used to be a prolific reader a while back - I was working my way through the SF Masterworks series interspersed with my dads Ben Elton books; I'd finish one within a few days and then immediately pick another one up. Then after I went travelling and came home, I just couldn’t pick a book up. For years. I blamed it on smartphones and tablets for quite a while but really its my depression not letting me. I’m slowly getting back to it - the last one only took me 6 months. 

 

10 hours ago, Buce said:

 

I avoid certain tracks, for sure.

 

But my go-to album when I feel down (Dark Side Of The Moon) brings me back to a peaceful state.

Spookily that’s the first album I intend to listen to with my new headphones! I mostly avoid Monty Python because it is basically my religion, and I don’t want to associate any negativity with it ever.

 

6 hours ago, Toddybad said:

Although I've answered that elsewhere it doesn't really matter.

I'm here again.

I'm going to try not to get drawn into the old bs. 

I only came back yesterday and just happened upon your post and it's more than I knew about you before.

 

The paragraph Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Doesn't explain any experience I've had but I do see this. I think similar things to that which you've described. For instance, traffic jams - something from Ben Elton's Gridlocked - if aliens looked down at everybody trying to get to work at exactly the same time to buildings clustered together in the same place and so end backed up for miles, moving slower than walking pace, in cars that carry 5 yet only house the driver, they'd think we are mad.

Well that’s settled. Gridlocked is one of the only Elton books I haven’t finished and it’s sat 3 feet in front of me. Welcome back Toddy. 

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7 hours ago, urban.spaceman said:

Cheers Wymesy. Feeling better just for having emailed them!!

 

I have the reading problem too! I used to be a prolific reader a while back - I was working my way through the SF Masterworks series interspersed with my dads Ben Elton books; I'd finish one within a few days and then immediately pick another one up. Then after I went travelling and came home, I just couldn’t pick a book up. For years. I blamed it on smartphones and tablets for quite a while but really its my depression not letting me. I’m slowly getting back to it - the last one only took me 6 months. 

 

Spookily that’s the first album I intend to listen to with my new headphones! I mostly avoid Monty Python because it is basically my religion, and I don’t want to associate any negativity with it ever.

 

Well that’s settled. Gridlocked is one of the only Elton books I haven’t finished and it’s sat 3 feet in front of me. Welcome back Toddy. 

The ben elton books are some of the very best ive ever read and gridlocked tops the lot. Fill your boots.

 

The very best is the hunger games trilogy.

 

Also re smartphones, youve definitely got a point as i tend to faff on the internet or read too many threads on here instead of reading but im now on ebooks via my phone so even hmnot having to pick up real paper books isnt the problem on its own.

 

Keep up the good work.

 

I find procrastination is one of my biggest signs to look out for. But being a died in the wool faffer again makes it harder to spot/easier to ignore.

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21 hours ago, Buce said:

 

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself reading back through this thread. Interestingly, although everyone's problems are unique to them, there was an underlying theme - a perceived failure to live up to other people's expectations (whether they be specific individuals, like parents, or more abstract, like society): "I dropped out of uni"; "I hate uni but my parents will be disappointed if I quit"; "I hate my job"; "I hate my career"; "My relationships always fail and don't think I'll ever be married and have kids". And so on.

 

Now, as many of you know, I'm no stranger to the Black Dog, and for some years my mental health issues were coming from exactly the same place as I've just highlighted. But that's a demon I beat (I still have one demon that occasionally troubles me, but that's not relevant to what I want to speak about here), and maybe if I talk about how, it may just help some of you.

 

I left school at sixteen to become an apprentice in the engineering sector; it wasn't something I wanted to do, but I came from a traditional working-class family and had no aspirations beyond that. No one in my family had ever been to uni, and that wasn't even considered as an option (though, ironically, my elder brother did as a mature student, after leaving school to find fame in a band, and went on to be a professor of philosophy at a major university); so, with no life plan, I allowed myself to be pushed into an apprenticeship by my parents ("there'll always be work in the engineering, lad - work your way up the ladder and you could even be a foreman one day").

 

Well, I hated it. Every fvcking minute. I hated the endless monotony of physical labour. I hated taking orders from people who could barely read and write. But most of all, I hated what I discovered - that the life that society expects of us is so pointlessly futile. Consider: I had scrimped and saved for a car that took up a good portion of my wages to run. A car that sat all day on the work's car park, and all night on my parents' driveway. A car I only needed to get me to and from work. I became depressed very quickly (though at that time, I didn't realise that that's what was happening to me). I tried to articulate it to my parents but they just reassured me that it gets better when you have more money. But that was bollox - demonstrably so. Because when I looked at the time-served workers, the futility was even more apparent. What benefit did the extra money bring them? I'll tell you: on top of the car scenario, they now had the same thing with a house. They came to work every day (and weekends too, if they could get the much-needed overtime) to pay for a house that they were hardly ever in because they were out at work paying for it. What little money that was left went on three things: pointless crap that they didn't need, to fill the house that they were seldom in; a two-week holiday in Skeggy (this was the mid-seventies, foreign package travel was just beginning to take off); and alcohol, to dull the pain of their pointless, miserable fvcking lives. I was pretty much ready to kill myself.

 

Then, one night, about nine months into my apprenticeship, and stuck inside with no money, I picked up a book (As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning). The author, Laurie Lee, had, at aged sixteen, left home to travel around Spain. The book detailed his adventures (he ended up caught up in the Spanish Civil War) and on a whim, I decided to do the same (travel around Spain, that is - the war was long since over, though General Franco still ruled with an iron fist). I quit my job the next day, bought some second-hand camping gear and an army surplus rucksack, sold my car and all my possessions and walked through France to Spain. I will save my stories for my autobiography, but I spent the next twenty-two years as a nomadic traveller. I still worked when necessary (I became very adept at living on very little but occasionally I would come back to England and either get a cheap bedsit or stay with my brother, work my butt off until I had enough money, then off I'd go again).

 

So this cured my depression, right? No, not at all. Because despite having the time of my life, despite visiting far-flung corners of the map (hell, some of the places weren't even on the fvcking map), despite doing stuff that most people will never even dream about, I was still weighed down with other peoples' expectations. I wanted my parents to see what I was doing in a positive light, to see me as a traveller, an explorer of my mind and my potential; but to them, I was a waster. A drifter. A deadbeat. Every time I came home, I felt their disapproval. Every time I quit my (what was always going to be, temporary) job to go off again, I sensed their disappointment. And I still felt the weight of the expectations that society had conditioned me with, fretted over my inability to 'settle down', fretted over not having a house, fretted over not having a long-term relationship.

 

No, it was a chance meeting with an old hippy in Nepal that finally allowed me to break free and like myself. Bombed out of my brains on the local hash one night, I opened up to him and told him what I'm telling you. And what he told me has stayed with me all my life: "We have a short life on this Earth, and none of us knows where we go after death, but the one thing we can be sure of is we won't be taking our money or possessions with us; we might, just might, get to keep our memories".

 

I guess what I'm telling you is, it's ok to be yourself. You have one short life, so live it for you, not somebody else; and don't carry the weight of other peoples' expectations.

 

Great post bro - thanks for sharing :thumbup:

 

I think another reason some of us are/have been depressed, is not down to failure to live up to others expectations of us, but failure to live to to our own expectations of ourselves.

 

In my case it was the disappointment and sadness of not achieving my potential in life (my illness stopped me in my tracks while in my prime really). Those of us who are competitive in life and have perfectionist tenancies can easily become depressed if we see others 'overtaking' us or gaining the success and happiness we wish we had ourselves.

 

Social media has made this worse and I've had to 'unfollow' many ex colleagues/friends/peers because the sight of them doing well makes me feel like I've failed. 

 

I know many sufferers who carry around a weight of expectation that is completely self generated and the moment they don't live up to it, the demons appear. That nagging feeling of not doing what we've been put on the planet to do, being in the wrong job, the wrong relationship - knowing that life's 'not right'.

 

This also feels like not being 'ourselves' because our true selves (our heart/spirit/wisdom) says we should be doing more/better. We try to live our life for ourselves (not others) but then get more sad and depressed because the inner voice is telling us we're shit.

 

Complete self sabotage, and it's crippling.

 

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Not sure if it's appropriate to post this here or not - so forgive me if it's not, or if it's already been mentioned...

 

I've just finished this  - it's an incredibly open and honest book dealing mainly with depression (and a bit of running around blowing things up stuff, too!). There are some techniques and strategies on how to deal with depression which I thought might be of some use to people that wish to explore the book.

 

JF.jpg

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1 minute ago, Milo said:

Not sure if it's appropriate to post this here or not - so forgive me if it's not, or if it's already been mentioned...

 

I've just finished this  - it's an incredibly open and honest book dealing mainly with depression (and a bit of running around blowing things up stuff, too!). There are some techniques and strategies on how to deal with depression which I thought might be of some use to people that wish to explore the book.

 

JF.jpg

 

Running around and blowing things up as a cure for depression?

 

Works for me.

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6 hours ago, Izzy said:

Great post bro - thanks for sharing :thumbup:

 

I think another reason some of us are/have been depressed, is not down to failure to live up to others expectations of us, but failure to live to to our own expectations of ourselves.

 

In my case it was the disappointment and sadness of not achieving my potential in life (my illness stopped me in my tracks while in my prime really). Those of us who are competitive in life and have perfectionist tenancies can easily become depressed if we see others 'overtaking' us or gaining the success and happiness we wish we had ourselves.

 

Social media has made this worse and I've had to 'unfollow' many ex colleagues/friends/peers because the sight of them doing well makes me feel like I've failed. 

 

I know many sufferers who carry around a weight of expectation that is completely self generated and the moment they don't live up to it, the demons appear. That nagging feeling of not doing what we've been put on the planet to do, being in the wrong job, the wrong relationship - knowing that life's 'not right'.

 

This also feels like not being 'ourselves' because our true selves (our heart/spirit/wisdom) says we should be doing more/better. We try to live our life for ourselves (not others) but then get more sad and depressed because the inner voice is telling us we're shit.

 

Complete self sabotage, and it's crippling.

 

 

Maybe the answer is to re-evaluate your definition of success, bro.

 

How many of your friends/ex-colleagues/peers are universally respected and admired on a discussion forum? How many lives have they touched with their caring and wisdom? And are they really happy? Just because they have what you wanted, it doesn't mean they have what they wanted.

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16 minutes ago, Buce said:

 

Maybe the answer is to re-evaluate your definition of success, bro.

I've been trying to do that for the last 15 years mate. 

 

My mind still wants what it wanted back then, but the body just can't do it. Not sure I'll ever fully come to terms with that if I'm honest. 

 

16 minutes ago, Buce said:

 

How many of your friends/ex-colleagues/peers are universally respected and admired on a discussion forum? How many lives have they touched with their caring and wisdom? And are they really happy? Just because they have what you wanted, it doesn't mean they have what they wanted.

Thank you, but I don't really care if they're happy of have what they want (in the nicest possible way of course)

 

What hurts is not having what I wanted or being where I expected to be at this stage in my life (in terms of happiness and fulfillment, but also in terms of success and reaching my potential)

 

I live my life like the film Sliding Doors. Always wondering "What if....?" or "If only....?" and it drives me crazy..

 

The only way I can handle it is by being grateful. I've got so much to still be grateful for and I know things could be worse.

 

The good thing is that I truly believe in an afterlife (but I know you and many others don't) and therefore I cling to the belief that this life isn't just it for me. People say "life isn't a dress rehearsal" but I say maybe it is. Maybe the best is yet to come?

 

The only peace that gives me is that I don't fear death one little bit. In fact part of me wishes it would happen sooner rather than later so I can start again and reach truly reach my potential the next time around :fc:

 

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Does anyone else do something that's probably not wise to try and numb the pain? I.e. gambling, drugs, drinking etc. It's drinking for me. 

 

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2 minutes ago, BenTheFox said:

Does anyone else do something that's probably not wise to try and numb the pain? I.e. gambling, drugs, drinking etc. It's drinking for me. 

 

Sometimes you have to numb the pain to keep going.  It buys you time which you can use to address the cause of your suffering.  It's not a solution that lasts forever.  A good friend of my wife's, and a lady I've known for over 40 years, is currently in long term residential care after long term alcoholism permanently destroyed part of her brain.

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5 minutes ago, BenTheFox said:

Does anyone else do something that's probably not wise to try and numb the pain? I.e. gambling, drugs, drinking etc. It's drinking for me. 

 

 

It’s pretty usual to self-medicate, tbh, Ben. 

 

It’s always been cannabis for me. 

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49 minutes ago, BenTheFox said:

Does anyone else do something that's probably not wise to try and numb the pain? I.e. gambling, drugs, drinking etc. It's drinking for me. 

 

It used to be gambling and alcohol for me.

 

Then I got hooked on prescription painkillers. 

 

Now I just go to bed and sleep.

 

I find dreams are so much better than real life.

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