The Complex Nature Of Sadness

The scoreboard at my former high school in Paulding County, Georgia. I was there for a charity event for cancer. It was the first time I had returned since I graduated twelve years ago. Photo by me, May 2003.


Sometimes I am overcome with sadness for no reason, but it does not happen all that often. It used to be a more common occurrence for me being  weighed down with some unknown sadness. I have perhaps gotten better at dealing with it as I have gotten older. I honestly believe it just happens less often for me.

Earlier this year, I was taking Zoloft for about three months. I had hit my lowest point mentally. I was holding it all together with luck, fraying strings and just stamina not to give up.

I entered therapy to talk about my problems too. I go in and talk to my therapist, she listens, sometimes asks a question and that is about it. After a few visits she determined that I was suffering from depression and anxiety. After my first visit she was all to happy to put me on a medication which had me suspicious at the time. I think doctors are too eager to write a prescription these days.

In my third month, I decided that I did not need the medication and the side effects were too severe for me. My therapist agreed to it. Also, the office stopped driving me into the ground and backed off of me.

I have been doing well most days. I have certainly had a lot to deal with in that I have moved, dedicated myself more to my work, earned a promotion, and I have been trying to be the best son to my mom since her cancer returned this year.

Over the last week though, the sadness has been creeping back up on me. I have caught myself listening to more sad music than I normally would. I have slept a little more erratically as well.

B is thinking that I am having an affair or something which confounds me. He says he has five and a half senses (not quite a full 6) and that he is getting the feeling that something is not right so I must be doing something behind his back. I am not and it thoroughly frustrates and pisses me off.

I hate when things go wrong in a relationship. I expect ups and downs and bumps along the way, but whenever there is some issue in our relationship B acts like it is life or death. If we argue over anything, even the smallest of arguments, then something is massively awry and he wonders if we are breaking up. Can you imagine how exhausting that is?

I wonder if I am really the one with the problem sometimes, but right now I am sad. I want a Rolling Rock and a Marlboro cigarette. I want to write it out of me too. I started this blogging thing knowing that I love to write and so I see coming here and typing this stuff out as part of my therapy. I know that no one really reads this anyway. It is more for me than for anyone else. I can think this way.

It goes back to when I spent a few lonely years after high school writing poetry. I would write my poems about finding that love that alluded me at the time. I would complain of my loneliness and say that this misery was going on in my life to make me a better person so that when I did find him I would be ready to handle anything. I was mistaken that I was bettering myself by wallowing in my misery.


If I am completely honest, the root of the sadness is in my early childhood and what I kept hidden there. My therapist knows and no one else does.

Now at 30, I know that I feel less than I used to, the world seems to impact me less and I keep going on my path to 40 and 50 and 60 (if I am so lucky to make it that far). Most of the bad things I feel end up under a rug and rarely under my skin. My expectations are lower for myself emotionally now. I just do what I can do and hope that I satisfy someone enough along the way, even if it is not me.