People and Places.
Not mine and not even really recent, but.... it fits the brief.

James is a good mate of mine - he was the manager while I coached our kids Tee-ball team a couple of years ago. We used to go fishing most weekends and frequently knocked the top off more than a few beers whilst doing so and afterwards at the pub.
James was an outgoing and ebullient type of guy. Rarely one to dwell on the negative, even when bad shit did happen James always seemed capable of finding a silver lining to the cloud. He was also a great believer in being in charge of ones destiny. None of the namby-pamby new age shit where you realigned your chakras so you could shit straight but just the simple belief that if you relied upon yourself and your abilities then rarely could you go wrong - for that I truly respect him.

Then something seemed to change in James. He became withdrawn and quiet. A lot of the verve in him had just disappeared. Whenever I rang up looking to tee up a play-date (fishing, pub, golf etc.) he'd always be vaguely too busy. If I turned up with a couple of beers he'd have one and then feign tiredness and want to call it a night. At the time I just figured he was busy and wasn't that fussed with me - we'd been friends for a long time and our friendship had endured many circumstances. In this time I later found out that he'd lost his job due to absence and that his marriage had come very close to ending as well.
It culminated one night when James' missus Antoinette called me in a panic asking me to get over there ASAP. I found him on the front porch curled up in a foetal ball quivering and crying. He couldn't tell us what was wrong and didn't want to move. I suggested an ambo and hospital and he was adamant that he didn't want that. I considered PET but having had some experience with the Psychiatric Emergency Team me and his wife both felt that would only make things worse. We eventually got him inside to bed with a guarantee from him that tomorrow he'd seek help.
We got him to a doctor who referred him to a good psych who told him almost straight away that he was suffering from an anxiety disorder called agoraphobia. He got medicated and has since found ways of coping with what ails him.
It wasn't until months later as we were sharing a jug of soda, lime & bitters at the pub (an outing -YAY! and no drinking on meds) that James said to me - "Ringo, it's like I just got sick of the whole world and everyone on it.", "I'd felt so totally alone and altho I knew what was happening to me was wrong I just really didn't even want to talk to anyone about fixing it - I just wanted to stay at home and be left alone."
"That's ok mate," I said to him as I poured the last of the ice cold mix into my glass while ignoring his empty ,"we'd all gone off you too. Your shout by the way."
He called me a self-serving cunt and laughed.
Good to have him back. Sometimes.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Fri 16 Aug 2013, 3:06, Reply)