A letter I wrote to a now departed friend

Back in October, I wrote a letter to a troubled friend who has since passed away. I thought that I should copy it here (minus the first names of others mentioned in the letter) in the event that it is lost elsewhere. At the time, I thought it was a valiant attempt to help her, but now I know that I didn’t really understand how ill she was.

——

I’ve thought a long time about what to write back to you, and I’m not sure where to begin. There is much proverbial food for thought in your two messages. I can relate to the struggle of addiction. U2 captured the problem well with their lyric, “I feel numb/too much is not enough”. Perhaps numbness is not the core of addiction. Instead, it’s any feeling that seems inappropriate in the situations we face. So we stifle or soothe those feelings with whatever addiction we’re facing at the moment. I think I will be addicted to something for the rest of my life. For a long time I’ve restricted this problem to nicotine and caffeine (and sometimes food, which was easily my biggest problem). I avoid classically addictive things because I assume they would destroy me, e.g. gambling and narcotics.

The first and likely the easiest thing for you to drop would be alcohol. Alcohol never helps depression or anxiety. It also harms sleep. The rest one gets after drinking is poor, too.

I should also disclose that I don’t have much faith in psychiatric meds, at least the ones prescribed for depression. Every one I tried eventually stopped working. The list: prozac, effexor, celexa, lexapro, remeron, paxil, trazodone. I also tried Zyprexa and an anxiety med whose name I don’t recall at the moment. None of these meds did much for me.

The only things that worked were the opportunities to love with E** and R**. Also the habit of physically exhausting myself. Love and wearing myself out is what worked. I’d also like to mention that the healing power of love resides in loving more than in being loved. Love can heal even if you do not feel loved in return. Loving heals because it relieves us of the burden of thinking of oneself, however temporarily.

It sounds like you would need medical supervision to alter or reduce the medications you are taking. I don’t know much at all about medically induced comas in rehab. I’ve only heard reference to them in treating opiate addictions. Change or recovery will be challenging no matter what therapy is used, but it will be worth it.

I’d also like you to know that my recovery has not been perfect, but I’ve grown to accept my situation. Some days I wake up inexplicably pissed, afraid or downright depressed, but I move forward. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with post SSRI “brain shocks.” On occasion I also hallucinate. Last year I was home alone and saw a clown and R** walk through the kitchen. Neither of them were there. I’ve seen L*** and R** at work on their days off. This has been happening sporadically for years, and I’ve gotten used it.

I am flawed, but I survive. I am happy because I accept that I am a mess.

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