What next?

I don’t have anything to add today about the Great North Trail.  I could probably add information about my brother, Tom Struckman.  I don’t know much more about my Uncle Carl Ralph Bonde, Jr., although I have enough background that I could fabricate a story.  Oh yes, I will.

What other running themes do I have?  The fables.  I’ve got the bunnies, the squirrels, the cats, the occasional dog.  What else?  A few birds, perhaps.  Then, there’s Montana.  Ah!  We have many trails, hot springs, rivers, mountains, expanses.  Much grist for tales there.  Here in Billings, there’s the downtown. P. and I walk there once in a while.

Last night,. P. and I went downtown to Lilac Restaurant.  Although the place was booked, we managed to get a pair of seats at the bar.  The bartender is quite personable, quite friendly.  He fixed us up with a bottle of rare wine, and a couple of meals that boasted lobster.  We finished off with coffee, then went to Arthouse Cinema for a movie.  Never crowded, we enjoyed “Meet the Patels.”  We often watch movies that are off-kilter, offbeat.  We like that.  Then we went home to beddy-bye.

I’ve tried to explore sexuality.  Yes, I know it’s a sticky subject, but Mark Twain said it’s quite essential.  I have to agree with Mark Twain.  Who wouldn’t agree with Mark Twain?  Everyone agrees with Mark Twain, the greatest writer ever in the United States.

You can’t write about sexuality without mentioning whacking off.  Of course.  I just finished reading Philip Roth’s “Portnoy’s Complaint.”  You with faint hearts, should stop reading right now.

Here’s the deal.  Since I started taking Prozac 40mg daily (aka fluoxetine) I have not whacked off.  Not even once.  Prozac sort of puts the libido to sleep.  I discussed it with my friend M.F. once.  He noted that since he started taking an SSRI antidepressant, something seemed missing.  It was his libido!  He no longer whacked off!

Monday I have an appointment for my first visit to a psychiatrist.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  I’m looking forward to getting some help for this crippling depression I’ve experienced.  I’m tired of feeling so guilty, so sad, with such damning self-talk.  I have a voice in my head that continually condemns me.  Tells me that I am a piece of shit, not worth anything.  I know that these are the symptoms of depression, so I have good  insight.

I have an understanding of what is happening to me, with my mental health.  Although I feel my emotions strongly, I don’t think I am totally at the mercy of those feelings, not yet.  God!

My family members, of course, are fearful.  Depression is a damned serious illness.  Other people who know or like or love me are also apt to become fearful.

I pledge to all that I will not harm myself.  I care about everyone far too much for that!  I understand that the pain for survivors of suicide persists for generations after the person is gone.  I would never, never want to cause that kind of perpetual anguish.  Please believe me.    I will keep the faith!

The pain of depression is temporary, but it is real, just like other kinds of pain.  Thank God that depression is a medical illness.  As such it is treatable!  Yes, medicine and therapies can make the pain abate!  If you have such pain, please let your doctor know!  Is it all in your head?  Well, yes!  Exactly!  But nothing to be ashamed of.  Let’s get medicine.  Even if you balk at the thought of medicating your emotions, give it a try.  You can shed it later!  Do it for those whom you love.  Please don’t give up.