"We're the middle children of history.... no purpose or place. We have no Great War, no Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives" Tyler Durden, Fight Club.

I find it funny, as I scroll back at some of the older entries in this blog, the things that I wrote. I actually thought that talking about my kidney stones and rectal exams would be interesting? Wow. Well, I’ve reached another crossroad in life. I had a physical recently and the accompanying blood test indicated that I had abnormally low testosterone. They would need another blood test in a week to verify those findings. A week passes and this blood test says that I DON’T have low testosterone. Huh? According to the Dr., it’s cyclical, and we tested when the hormones were at their lowest. So, let’s grab some more blood in two weeks. The two weeks were up yesterday and I had blood taken again. While talking with the Dr., as I had the last 5 or 6 previous visits, I told him about my feelings of malaise. I have no motivation to do anything. Bills are late and I don’t care. Not eating right, and can’t sleep a full night to save my life. He told me, that regardless of the results of this last blood test, he’s come to the conclusion that I’m clinically depressed. DEPRESSED. Who’d thunk it? There is such a stigma with that word. Even I have always thought people that were depressed just need to “put their big boy panties on and get in the game”. Look at me now, 40 years old and suffering from what the Dr calls, mild depression. Lexapro. Six Weeks. Then we’ll “see how you feel”. Not being satisfied with his diagnoses I did some research on Teh Intertubes, and Ill be, I surely fit the diagnoses. I guess I’m an example of what happens when you narrow mindedly assume that some people just can’t deal with life so they need to hide behind a pill. At least in my case, it’s a chemical imbalance. If you were curious, that was sarcasm.