I had my preliminary interview with the community Psychiatric Nurse on Wednesday, and what do you know I am neither mad or bad I am "Bored". This is fantastic news as I was beginning to think that sitting around watching telly, or playing computer games, not to mention hardly ever leaving the house cos I feel crap can all be explained by drawing the conclusion that I am depressed.. I cannot wait to get the prescription from the doctor for a 6000 piece jigsaw, and a copy of cross word puzzler monthly.
But wait just as I am getting this piece of news through my gray matter she then tells me that because I have anxiety attacks, and that I often have thoughts of being dead, that's being dead as opposed to killing myself which is not something I feel I will do, that she is sending me to see the psychiatrist just so that the fully trained head examiner can confirm that I am bored. Now I do not mean to be flippant and I did actually get some things from the appointment to think about that may in time help me, so despite feeling like I have not gained anything from the interview I am at least reassured that boredom is now a medical condition that is treatable and hardly ever fatal.
So then Yesterday I go and see my own g.p., for no other reason than to keep him up to speed with all the appointments that I have had recently, relatively important when I know that the chances of any formal letter from the outpatient clinic that I attended two weeks ago actually being typed and posted before I die of old age were negligible. It may be perverse and sad but the inner glow that I had when I found out that I was right, and no such letter from the consultant had been received was all the justification I needed for assuming that I as the patient should always be the one to break bad news to my doctor. Damn it he is my doctor and so it should be me that tells him that I am in no immanent danger and as a consequence we can look forward to many happy years together.
I also run by him the "boredom" diagnosis, he was sympathetic and offed to let me wash his car as a therapeutic way of getting a free car valeting for himself. I declined and did the standard patient thing which was to ask for better medication. He obliged with hardly a murmur. After handing over the script we got talking about how my anxiety will be feeding off my depression and vice a versa, also that I have most likely always had and always will have a undercurrent of depression that depending on things would either be dormant or active. I said things like "boredom" he said he thought what the boredom thing related too is that I over think things or worry about things too much. This was very reassuring as at that moment I realised he had totally confirmed everything that I had worked out about myself and why I might be depressed, it felt great to be told that I am as clever as I always thought I was.
It then hit me, if all the factors that make me depressed are the ones that I already worked out and take some steps to alleviate, things like trying to live each day as well as I can and not to beat myself up about things that I feel were bad or wrong, then when do I have the time to be bored, and if I am busy trying not to be bored then what the heck is going on. Am I now bored as a default option and even though I can be fully engaged with the cleaning of the house I am actually BORED!
Well after all that I put into practice the age old remedy for both boredom and depression, I went to meet Alan W in the cask & barrel. A jolly time was had helped by several beers, and a wedding party that came in and kept me and Al entertained by singing and dancing most of the night. We left about nine - ish and as a result of the hangover I had this morning I can truly say that I have not been bored once today.
Gonna write something political or activisty tomorrow so you have been warned.
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