THIS LAST WEEK I HAVE BEEN...........

I am forcing myself to write this week as I feel pretty much like I want to give up, not just the blog but on life generally. I do not mean that I am contemplating giving up literally, I may be a control freak and a exhibitionist but hanging myself on Bebo, or youtube is not my style. Actually after some reflection a few years ago I decided that suicide is not my style. It is an act of extreme selfishness and causes long term pain and emotional damage to those, (especially the poor sod who finds the corpse) who are left

I guess a better way to start this entry would have been to tell you that I am feeling crap, I have had a crap week, I have years of crap to look foreword to, I know crap all, I have crap to offer, and so on and so forth. Now apart from the over use of the word crap, I would also acknowledge that for some reason my mental health state is borderline between depressed and fed up, and that would explain the piles of crap.

You will know that I am a depression sufferer any way, and sometimes the meds that I take for it either seem not to help at all, or remove me from who I "feel" I truly am. The important part in that sentence is the word "sometimes" because as others will know the meds are not the answer, much more important is the attitude of the depressed person. The meds I take are only meant to take the worst excesses of the mood swings away, the swings still happen but they are meant to be less dramatic, well that's the theory at least.

This week though the meds have hit a solid wall of indifference from within the user. It is true that for the majority of the week I have had some kind of physical thing to contend with, again as some of you will know there is nothing like a bit of pain or just feeling yuck to increase anxiety as well as to generally bring life and plans to a grinding halt. The obvious knock on effect on the mental health needs no further illustration just think bad day got worse. However the added weight of uncertainty about our possible move of house, plus what the hell did I give up my job for?, who the heck is Lambo any way?, why is he such a moany bastard?, and last but not least the traditional but ever popular what am I supposed to do with my life now?, all combining makes for a storm of depression that would equal the highest level of hurricane threat. Not much wonder that the meds go in but like Custer at the little Big Horn meet overwhelming forces.

When these issues all combine together with physical stuff, plus the ever present dissatisfaction with my body, I just would like the world to disappear up it's own backside and leave me alone. Caring about stuff, any stuff is difficult. Communication is probably as monosyllabic as your average teenage boy, and the constant thought in my head is that I am just a waste. I have the mental image of a sponge (Bath not cake) that might be of some use to those who want to know how I am affected. So like the sponge as my mood, or capacity to relate to others goes down, I soak up stuff. Things that Claire tells me or things that I see or hear, then I get to saturation point and nothing else can get in. I see and hear, I walk (Well shuffle or wheel actually) and talk, listen and appear alive, the reality is that I am disconnected and apart from the rest of the world. Yes I care about stuff and no it is not like feeling like no one understands me. I do not cut myself off from others I just find it difficult to connect with others. Emotionally impaired for a temporary period.

"So not a good week eh?" Erm no!

N.B.
Malkie P asked me once if writing this blog was cathartic. I have to say that although I have found doing this entry has lifted me a little, I did not start the blog for this reason. I am not sure that "writing as therapy" is where the answer for me lies. Cognatel behavioural therapy has been recommended for me and that seems like a good way to go as it focuses on how I think about crap.