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I've been struggling with depression lately.

It's neither the all-consuming variety, nor is it the glamorous I-hurt-myself-to-feel-anything type. In fact, more than anything, I feel... nothing.

Utter apathy.

To say I'm overwhelmed by everything my life has offered for me in the past few weeks is a tremendous understatement.

Enough. I've had enough. I need to get a great deal of this off of my chest. So listen, damn it.

Listen.

Or don't, I don't really care (ha, yay apathy!)...

But I cannot express to you how much I need to do this, how much this needs to be here, to bear witness to the inadequacies of my emotion.

My father. I love him, truly, I do. But I despise the person he is, and the grief which he has wrought upon my family unit.

He is an alcoholic, unabashed, and apparently unashamed. As a junior in high school, I drove him home regularly from the local bar. More than once, I saw him fall upon his posterior as he stumbled from the door of the pub to the door of the car. He bankrupted--quite literally--my family, by spending a modest fortune ($20-$30k) each year at the bar. Two years ago, driving home from the bar when I was unable to be his coerced designated driver, he was pulled over by a Dallas police officer entering a freeway on-ramp. He got a DWI, and swore that was the end of his drinking. Fat chance. He was drinking regularly again within the month. Fast forward to three weeks ago.

January 18th, I started getting frantic telephone calls from my grandmother and my aunt. Apparently he had been in an accident, and had been arrested. After an extremely long night on the telephone, I finally tracked him down in jail. It fell to me--yes, me--to bail him out of jail. My only condition for bail was that he goes to rehab.

That went over like a lead balloon. He resisted, but ultimately, considering the option of months of jail time while waiting for his court date, acquiesced. He's been there ever since. I'm pleased he has gone, and pleased he's doing well in his counseling, but I'm not thoroughly convinced that he's giving it his all.

Onto the other topic which has been bothering me lately, my job. I've been given notice that I'm being demoted. I'm currently a department manager at a major home improvement retailer. I work hard. Harder than I ever thought I would have to, but I'm not opposed to working hard. Things get done, the departments I manage are looking great. But... I'm a nice guy. I lack that "killer instinct" they feel I should have. As such, when they see my accomplishments, they only see the potential that exists, if only I were to drive my employees to maximum productivity. My philosophy as a manager has always been to treat my people well, and in turn, they'd give me the world, if I ask for it. And it's always done me well. I don't know. I don't see the benefit of meanness. There is no logic to that equation.

So I'm having to take a rather drastic cut in pay solely because they disagree with my methods of motivation.

It's all sent me into a sort of... emotional overload. My soul is lacking the depth to process all of this, so emotion has failed me. It is utterly inadequate.

And so, boiled all down, it reduces to one thing... I'm disgusted with myself. For all of the things I am incapable of feeling which I should be able to feel, I consider myself a failure. And I loathe myself for it.

Someone help me. Please, help me.