R.O. Double
Holdin My Balls Since 83
"Depression starts to talk and his voice is raspy, becuz he ain't shut the fukk up in 3 and a half weeks!"
Looking good breh n/h. Keep cutting the weight. Been there too with the whole post loved one dying shyt. shyt prolly still fukks with me but it's whatever. Fitness has always been a good outlet for me.
It gets rough. I cut most of it. I don't want to be as skinny as I was before. 190 is as low as Im gonna go. Im pretty much done. The extra 5 pounds is just for definition.
@ModernFonzie
breh to make ur thread more of a success remove that fruity bottom selfie
it's good that you're showing up your gym and mental health progress but i don't get point of that last pic
this is a men's forum breh, save d selfies for pming chicks or something
I just know how crazy it gets and how your whole life can just fall apart. It's scary too once you realize whats' taking place.
I'm at 185 right now, i'm cutting myself actually
Would you feel better if I posted a pre depression selfie too? LOL. You wanna see me with weed crumbs stuck around my mouth and big ass bags under my eyes
I'll take it down though
I'm 6'3 too. So If I go down anymore I'll be too skinny. How do you do your cutting?
Respect to OP... what a strong young man and admirable for puttin this out... it all gets better...salute fam
In 2012, my mother died. And this shyt fukked me up hard. I always had a rough life in general, but for some reason I was always able to skate by through everything that happened unscathed. Through abuse and deaths and letdowns, Like I never fell off. I just kept it pushing and saw shyt like "it is what it is". I thought I was getting through it, but in reality, I was never addressing things mentally. I just left them dangling in my psyche for a long time. And when my mother died, I thought it would be the same. I thought that I would be hurt for a while, but that I would bounce back, but I didn't. I fell into a deep deep depression. It was caused by years of not addressing things and my mother's death was really just the last drop that made the dam break. I stood in the house everyday. Smoking Weed. Crying. Lost touch with a bunch of my friends, lost some good people in the process of my self destruction. I gained 75 pounds in about 8 months. And thought about a lot of things that I didn't know I was capable of.
I’ve always gotten through things on my own. I held emotions in, like we hold our breath. And for a while my metaphorical lungs supported me but after my mother died they exploded. Losing a mother (or a parent in general) is a different type of burn. It’s basically when the person who has all the answers is the focal point of the problem. There were so many days that I thought went well and then I’d end up on my bed, staring at my ceiling realizing that none of it mattered and this was all real. I’d spend hours each night glaring at the ceiling looking for answers, revisiting the past every night, trying to relive a time gone. So much time photoshopping mental images that I forgot what the originals looked like when they happened. I was trying to change every argument into a good conversation and every tear into a smile. The problem with photoshopping mental images is that no matter how much you try to believe them, you know they aren’t real. You know that they are fabricated interpretations of what you wished had occurred. And in the end you forget the good things that actually happened, because you spent so much time trying to make all the bad memories, good ones. Bad days started to become normal days, and the formerly normal days started to become good ones. A parasite was deeply embedded into my being, created and fed by the ever growing hopelessness located in the depths my soul. I haven't been feeling like a person, I’ve been feeling like a vessel. A vessel used to transport resurfaced memories and despair to wherever they needed to be. A vessel to assist my past in its task of inhabiting and infecting my future, to make itself at home, to make itself the now. A chauffeur for my insecurities, and a butler for my pain.
Depression isn't the guy with the machine gun that kills you swiftly. Depression is the maniacal serial killer that locks his prey in basements and tortures them until they crack. Depression isn't Michael Myers, it's the fukking puppet from the Saw series that encourages you to believe that there’s always a way out. It leads you to think “If I can just take the next step necessary, everything will be fine”. Only later to arrive to the faith shattering realization that you're only at the beginning of the staircase that leads to another staircase which leads to the ladder that takes you up to the vantage point that allows you to see the thousands of staircases you have to climb in order to reach your destination. Each staircase appearing smaller and smaller as the distance between you and it increases, appearing more and more impossible to reach. It’s like a silent cancer. Every time you think you've beaten it; it just resurfaces, over and over, day in and day out with no warning and no sympathy. You promise yourself change at night and proceed to break your own heart every morning by not honoring the vows you made to yourself before you slowly drifted into unconsciousness. Depression is being in an abusive relationship with yourself. You are both the battered spouse who keeps going back, and the violent spouse who promises they'll change.
Depression isn't so much that you're sad; it's more like you feel nothing. If that even makes sense. It makes you feel indifferent toward everything, indifferent in a world where in order to be successful you have to care. About yourself and about what becomes of you.
The way I beat it though, is this. I sat back one day and I just looked at the world. I thought about the opportunities I had. I thought about the future, and I thought about my mother. And I realized 2 things. That I had couldn't torment myself with unchangeable. And That I was going to fail before I succeeded. The road to success is filled with a bunch of detours and crashes. And I challenged myself to challenge myself. And I failed a lot, but when you keep the goal in mind. And make it priority to push everyday good things can come. I'm as happy as I've ever been right now. And it only happened when I broke myself down to my lowest point, and let my depression run its course. And then used my bottom as my foundation to grow.
Whatever you're going through right now, you can get through it. And I know a lot of people don't think depression can hit them but it can. It hit me hard. I didn't even recognize myself. But I got through it by failing over and over again. And the end result was worth it.
My greatest fear in life is my mother pas sing and how I will react to it.