On Depression (Again)

 I'm back on SilverCloud. 

After a few weeks (months?) of debating with myself whether I should reach out to GP again, I instead self-referred for talking therapies and after yet another telephone appointment where I went through my history, current state and reasons for the referral, I panicked at the thought of more targeted help and asked for the one that I've done before and can at least try and approach in my own time. 

I've had limited success (but not no success) with CBT before, so I'm trying my best to approach this as an opportunity to improve on previous effort, become more aware of my cycles of thought-feelings-behaviour, and just find somewhere, anywhere, to interrupt the spirals before I hit the bottom. 

It is, still, frustrating to read the exact same things again, to skim through the theory because I know how this is supposed to work, I know the model that is the basis for the therapy and I know the techniques that I'm going to be asked to use. As I said in my assessment appointment, I know what I need to be doing, I just can't seem to keep it up. And that becomes another stick to beat myself with, another "see? I'm useless". 

I am just about managing to stick with my morning exercises ("but I'm doing the easiest possible level"). The heat waves are interrupting my running schedule ("but I don't always do the full run anyway") and all my attempts at improving my diet keep failing ("I just don't have any willpower"). Finding the time/motivation to meditate or practice mindfulness is always a struggle ("it's like I don't want to get better"). 

I still go into work regularly ("but I don't do anything there") and I still see friends. I've got my regular social engagements, and say yes to as many others as people suggest. I'm planning on going away twice in August - including hopefully to see a football match even though I find both traveling and the idea of being in a crowd of strangers terrifying. I read every day, I do puzzles, I walk the dog, I listen to podcasts and music and watch YouTube videos, sometimes even ones that aren't by the Green brothers ("but none of that is helping"). I joined more Discord servers ("but I'm too shy to join in"). I do at least some housework ("but not enough"). I buy myself things I want and give money to charity ("isn't that supposed to make me happy?"). 

I keep making plans for the future ("but I might not be here") and keep getting out of bed every day ("but what's the point?") and keep trying all the things that are supposed to help because the alternative, not doing all that, feels too much like giving up. And while I am not sure I will ever be "better", I don't want to get "worse". 

I find it so hard to find hope, despite studying the masters, that hope feels forever out of reach for me. But in the absence of hope, there is at least sheer stubbornness, and I think that's what's driving me at the moment. 

new year, old me

 It's that time of year again - of looking back and looking forward. And I can't. I just can't.

I've not been doing great at mindfulness, filling the emptiness with podcasts and music instead, but I am still living in the moment insumuch as Now is all that exists for me. This is not all that helpful, actually. As well as not being able to plan ahead more than just saying "yes" when someone else suggests a thing, I don't seem to have done anything. Or maybe I have and I've just forgotten. But I certainly didn't do anything significant last year - no holidays, no larps, no dates, no home improvements. I played some D&D. I went dancing. My son turned 21 and got a family meal only because a good friend stepped in to help book a table. Exercise, eating heathily, not drinking an entire bottle of wine in an evening all, all fell by the wayside. I definitely read some books, and some were good. I wrote some blog posts, and some stories, I'm not sure any of them were good. 

And I can't see this year being any different. Because I can't imagine how I can change for the better. I found it hard enough to look after myself, to try and make our life better when it was me and Jess. Alone? I don't stand a chance. 

I keep thinking back to when she begged me to keep writing, because she wanted to read it, and said she'd do anything to help me find the time. I still didn't. And now, even when I try writing just for me, with no intention of publishing it here or elsewhere, I struggle. Because, what's the point of writing if not for a reader? And the reader I cared most about is gone. 

I still want to finish this short story that's sat in my drafts for a couple of months now. I have a vague idea of how it should go. I have a feeling I want to capture. I just don't think I can do it justice. I don't know who will read it. But I know who won't. So "what's the point?" keeps working it's way into my head and I don't have an answer for that. I never have an answer for that. 

I've probably written more blog posts about not writing than any other subject, it is, of course, my favourite way to procrastinate. So sorry for another one. But this is me now, stuck on repeat.

Depression and dissociation

 CW - passive suicidal ideaton

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I've not been having a good time. Good days happen, of course, but there's this undercurrent of just not wanting to have to keep on doing *gestures* all this. I've been coping with that, for varying degrees of coping, by trying to keep busy, keep distracted, numb the feelings at all costs. This includes a lot of comfort eating and sometimes drinking a bit too much wine. 

Yesterday, I admitted to my counsellor that I was missing Jess, and missing her lots more than the previous few months. And I don't know really why she is in my thoughts more at the moment, whether this is because I am struggling or vice versa. I just miss having her around. I want someone to help me with all the practical stuff, I want someone to talk to after a day at work. At night, I wrap the duvet around myself but, whenver I roll over, I adjust it so it's still covering her side of the bed. There's just this gap where she used to be. 

So I've been listening to music and podcasts to try and distract me, but still keep lapsing into fantasy and playing out various scenarios in my head. And I'm aware this is not healthy, and have been trying to take steps to ground myself and practice mindfulness and just...not live in a fantasy world all the time. But that's tough, when reality is so unappealing. I've found myself dissociating more, not to the extent of being completely unaware of my surroundings or anything, but just getting that feeling of detachment from the outside world. Seeing everything softly out-of-focus. Finding it hard to concentrate. Feeling like I'm drifting away from my body. Or when forced to look inside, finding only a void where any sense of self used to live.

I am fine when I'm with people, and actually getting some human interaction. I enjoy my time with friends, and chats with family, and even going into work and just having people around. But whenever I'm by myself, the depression creeps back in. Today has actually been a good day, which is why I felt like I could write this. But I suspect I will still wake up tomorrow and think "another day to get through".

Struggling already

 I knew this "blog every day" thing would be a challenge, I just didn't expect to run out of ideas four days in. There's still a couple of short story ideas spinning around my head but I can't quite get them in focus enough to write them down. 

Today generally has been a bit of a blur - took the dog for a six month check-up at vet and was filled with anxiety all the way there. He's an old dog now, and I know he desperately needs dental work doing but it isn't currently causing him noticable issues, so I keep putting it off. And it's a long walk for him, too much time for my brain to get worked up about having to interact with strangers. I made it without tears but on the way I was worried I wouldn't. So anxiety over that, and having sent off work to be reviewed, and having a meeting tomorrow about that work...I have other projects to work on but I couldn't focus enough on them either to get much done. 

I managed a short run this evening, having completed Couch to 5K previously I'm cycling through the "Beyond Couch to 5K" runs, and then just felt sad and cried a bit in the shower. It's hard not to feel like I'm wasting my life because I waste so many days but also because I don't know what I should be doing with my days, or rather, because how I wish I was spending my days just doesn't seem to be possible most of the time. As always, John Green has some wise words on a related subject, and I think I better stop there before I start crying again.

Here, again

 And I don't know why I let myself believe things could be different, and I don't know why I can't let go of that idea, and I don't know how this can have been going on for so long and I don't know why it matters so much to me after everything else that has happened and, most importantly, I don't know how to stop it. I'm back to just trying to live in the moment, to just do the next thing and not think too hard about the future or why I'm doing any of these things. And listening to lots and lots of podcasts to try and drown out the sounds of my own thoughts. 

Life update

Been a while, so thought I'd write a "still here" update.

Metaphor my counsellor came up with this week was being in a small boat on the ocean: bobbing along and not sinking but not really going anywhere other than maybe when the wind or some other force pushes me in a direction for bit, not really under my control and with no real destination in mind. And that's ok for a while but maybe not forever. I still can't think about a direction though, I just burst into tears whenever I do. Learning which guided meditations to avoid...

Changed meds to mirtazapine - still not convinced how much that's helping, although the extreme irritability and outbursts of RAGE have thankfully subsided a bit. Increasing the dosage to see how that goes. Still seeing counsellor. Still trying to work, keep on top of housework, exercise, see people etc. Some days that's all straightforward and then I don't know what to do with myself when I suddenly have time, and other days it takes all my mental energy to scrape through the bare minimum. Doesn't seem to matter so much when I don't get "everything" done though. Not sure whether that's a good thing or not. Just can't think about it too much - can't think about anything too much, it all just slips away from my attention. Good for avoiding rumination, less good for...executive function generally. 

Occasionally picking away at a short story I started many months ago and may even finish one day. But mostly putting creative effort into running D&D with two ongoing campaigns (one mostly weekly and one nearly monthly). Attempts to broaden my cooking repetoire have stalled and just finding things to put in my mouth every day is current goal. Something something "good enough". 

So there we are. Bobbing along, directionless but afloat.

Impossible Futures

 I saw a glimpse of a possible future once, and for a while I was happy. 

And then when I realised that was just a fantasy my heart broke all over again but I still can't let it go. The fantasies have always been more compelling than reality - how could they not be? - and this one seemed so close, so modest, so achievable. But that's all it is, a fantasy, and I have to try and face reality again without it. 

No wonder I can't stop crying.

And I can't just turn off the feelings, and I probably could try and do things differently, but maybe it will be enough to just cling on to this one truth, that all it ever was was an impossible future, like so many others I don't mourn because I never believe in them. 

I don't know how long I can keep doing this to myself

 I have an idea in my head of what my life should be like. It's fuzzy, sure, and probably a bit unrealistic, and I know not every day will be perfect, but it's there, it's what I'm supposed to be working towards. And I keep falling back into the same ruts. I try and break free from the negative thinking but reality keeps hitting me in the face. I try and do something different and old instincts take over. I promise myself I'll stop wanting something I can't have and I end up hiding in the toilets crying time and time again. I'm sure every thing I'm writing here I've already expressed before in a blog post, probably more than once. 

I don't know if I lay on the kitchen floor crying over a man, or over my lack of creativity; if it was caused by a blood sugar drop, fluctuating hormones or my own ingrained thought patterns. It largely doesn't matter. Nothing matters. It's hard to believe change is possible when you keep making the same mistakes. When you keep ending up at the same place. But I don't have to believe. I just have to keep repeating the mantra "This Too Shall Pass" and go sleep it off and hope tomorrow is easier. 

Yes, it's been a while, no I'm not going to address that

 It's the hope that gets you.

Maybe this time it will be different. This new drug/dose combo will be sufficient for you to make and maintain the lifestyle changes, and you'll feel great. You'll actually keep up the new habits this time. Ok, the last diet didn't work, but this one will for sure. You're a new, better person now! You're not going to keep making the same mistakes!

After everything you've been through, surely you've learnt some perspective. You know this won't last forever, so it will be easier to handle. You managed last time you made a phone call, so another will be just fine. You're forty-one now, for gods' sake, you can handle a little disappointment. 

But it's not just about you. Oh no.

Maybe you read the signs wrong. Maybe they didn't notice you were flirting. Maybe there's still a chance. Surely that couldn't happen here. Surely now people will demand change. Surely someone will do something to stop it.

And then you find yourself at the bottom of a pit again. Just like before. Habits slip. Health deteriorates. Thoughts stuck in cycles oh so familiar from oh so many years before. It feels like the end of the world. You freeze up. Everything upset is a killer blow. Nothing ever happens. The world keeps getting worse and worse. 

And once you climb back out, you look down into the pit and think, "Well that can't happen again. What can I do to stop it?" 

And you do it.

And you hope.

Not the post you are looking for

I had a couple of ideas of what to blog about today. At least I think I did, although now I can only think of one which was about the difference between social awkwardness, ASD and creepy or harassing behaviour.

Then my laptop died, again, and I considered a eulogy for it, or at least a run-down of its previous "deaths".

Then the blues came crashing down out of nowhere and I lost all interest in anything and I hate trying to write anything of length on my phone so I did some ironing and then collapsed in ball of apathy.

Then J gave me wine and put How I Met Your Mother on and...I'm beginning to feel better.

So maybe tomorrow I'll do a better blog post.

Can We Make A Deal, World?

I tell you what - I promise to try my very best and actually get of my arse and do stuff without fear of failure if you promise to stop with the ableist bullshit, ok?

Time to Change has been running a campaign trying to get people to talk openly about mental health, so here's my little contribution.

I suffer from depression and anxiety. This is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I want to try and make clear what that actually means. I take anti-depressants, because I'm worse without them, but they don't make me "better". I get by with the help and support of my friends and family- especially my partner who makes sure I get fed and have someone to talk to, as my attempts to open up to a counsellor have always ended in failure. I'm not suicidal, I don't spend all day in bed, I manage to eat regularly (but not overeat), I manage to get out of the house most days, I can go into shops and answer the phone and talk to people in social situations. This doesn't mean I'm not ill though. Just because I'm lucky and my depression is very mild, doesn't mean it's not there, or that it's just a bad mood, or I'm over-reacting to a negative mind-set and I just need to pull myself together. I am ill. And, as I'm beginning to accept, I probably always will be.

This acceptance doesn't mean I'm giving up or going to spend the rest of my life wallowing in self-pity or am placing myself in a "victim" role or any of that nonsense you might be thinking. In fact, it's the complete opposite of giving up. I spent too much time as a teenager and young adult hoping that one day I would be "better", that I'd get over whatever was holding me back and everything would be ok. Even once I'd realised that wasn't going to happen by itself, I looked to doctors to help me, to cure me, to make this horrible mental illness go away. And they couldn't. At that point I nearly did give up.

But accepting that I had a chronic illness, that I had a disability was just the first step to learning how to live with it. Hoping for a cure for my depression and social anxiety is about as much help as hoping for a cure for my myopia. But instead of trying to deny I'm short-sighted or struggle on without any help, I buy glasses and wear them and get on with life. Mental illnesses are not so easy to cope with, of course, but I have learned (with help from both professionals and other sufferers) how to catch those negative thoughts and realise they're not true, how to set myself achievable targets and get myself moving each day, and how to occasionally give myself a break. I've learned how to do that but it doesn't make it any easier. Unlike riding a bike, it doesn't really get easier with practice and I doubt it'll ever become second nature for me.

So obviously I have bad days.I have relapses where it feels like the rest of my life is going to be like one of those bad days, because that's what depression does. And on those bad days I reach out and tell people I'm feeling bad and go fishing for sympathy and things like that because that's what I need to feel better, to get enough of a grip on myself to get past the bad moment and pick myself up again. And when one of my friends is in a similar bad place, I give them sympathy and love because that's what they need right then, not a lecture on how they can make things better. It's called a social support network, and it's one of the most important things a person can have. Sure, it might be better to teach a man how to fish, but a starvation victim who is too weak to hold a rod really just needs the damned fish. Learning to catch your own supper comes later, when you're strong enough.

But still. I've been a slump lately and I've done enough whinging and asking for sympathy, and I've been given it because I have friends who are great and understand. And now I need to learn how to fish. (Metaphorically, of course. I'm far too much of a softie to kill my own food.) So apologies for the self-pity and whinging, and I hope you can forgive me. As for the deal, I'm going to try and keep my end of it, so do you think you can uphold yours? Don't assume just because something works for you, it will work for everyone. And don't assume just because someone doesn't look unwell or disabled, they must be fine. Thanks.

Motivation

As in, I have none.

School holidays are always hard. As much as I love The Terror, he does sometimes live up to his name, and even when he doesn't I feel guilty about not doing more fun, exciting and educational things with him. All our spare time seems to be spent with me on laptop wasting time, him watching telly or playing games on Wii and when I finally manage to drag myself and him away from our addictions there is usually much whinging. Or he wants me to play with him and I can only handle small amounts of that, not having the energy or the imagination to keep up with a seven year old. While the weather has been great, and we have mostly been managing to get out for a bit every day, when it's too hot we really don't want to stay out long. And I get tired so easily I need to go home and do nothing for a bit.

So mostly the last two weeks have been not going outside enough and not doing enough exercise and eating far too much. Few days around my birthday (yes, I am officially Old now) were good, but exhausting.I have Stuff now, including more books to read than I'll get through in a reasonable time. And chocolate and whisky, which won't help with diet, but makes life a little more pleasurable. But now the time has come to try and get back to a routine and pick up my Wii Fit regime and look more seriously for work and I'm dreading it. Of course, there's only a couple of days and then another long weekend, one in which my SO will be away, so there's little chance I'll really be ready to do anything and I'm not sure what I should do anyway.

Which brings me back to the motivation thing. I occasionally think of things I could do (or "should do", but I'm trying to avoid that) but they just seem to big and scary that I can't even make a start. Trying to concentrate on smaller things that actually might be useful in and of themselves, instead of just the first step on a long journey, but even those seem to fall by the wayside or be too hard. Every day is a battle to actually get myself to do anything without just collapsing into tears from stress. Or sometimes just a battle to not collapse into tears full stop. And yet sometimes, when the pressure is off, I find myself just getting things done and being ok. But only sometimes. And while I occasionally think "I should mention this to the doctor" whenever I get there I either just forget or can't think of the words or am feeling more positive and think I'll be ok or feeling more negative and think that's just the way it's always going to be. I guess it isn't really my GP's job to help me get my act together but then I'm obviously depressed so maybe it is. But the community mental health team made it clear to me last time I was referred there that they considered me "well enough" to get by with self-help. Despite the self-help failing being the reason I was referred there. But that's the NHS for you - desperately underfunded and unable to cope with long-term "mild" mental health problems.

Now I've rambled for a bit and forgotten my point, if I had any. But I suppose I've managed to blog, which is one of the things I keep trying to do and failing. So that's a start.

Plans, Schmlans

The problem with making plans is sometimes the spoon thief comes and gets in the way. (In case you haven't read The Spoon Theory, go read it now. It works for mental illness just as much as any physical one. And sometimes I remember I'm actually ill, and not just lazy.)

It's been less than a month since I mentioned some of my plans for this year so maybe I shouldn't be judging myself too harshly, but I do seem to have run aground already. The daft writing project (using Celtx) has been dropped due to the ongoing problem I seem to have when it comes to writing fiction - failure to think of a plot. You just need to glance back through the last few blog posts to notice that I haven't managed that many reviews, and most of my posts have indeed been about my game or whining about life.

I have made little progress in brushing up my linux skills and haven't even made a start on learning Python or any other language. And while a few things have been put aside to be taken to charity shop or tip, there's still along way to go.

But the biggest problem was my really crazy idea which has indeed proven to be as daft and hard to manage as I expected. Mostly because I've utterly failed to write any form of explanation that I can send to people. So mostly I've just failed to fill in online surveys, Eagle nominations and competition forms, and abandoned my resolve to switch banks; all with the intention of emailing someone and then trying again but apathy and writer's block got in the way. And I now have a job application form to send off, with the gender question on the equal opportunities monitoring form left blank, and no idea what to say in the accompanying letter, or who to address it to, or even whether to send one at all. Not that I expect to get very far with the job anyway, but I don't want to completely screw up my chances of even being considered by coming across as something of a loon. Which is just pure cowardice I know, but there. I'm not going to cave just yet though. I'm leaning towards just sending in the application, and working again on a letter to send to the employer pointing out the problem with their form, but whether I'll ever manage to write that letter or not I don't know.

On the other hand, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to even write this post, having failed to last week when I first thought of it. So maybe it'll take time but maybe I'll get there in the end. Same with the other plans, I guess.

That Was The Weekend That Was IX

Friday night (after QI of course) the SO and I ended up playing Tetris (or at least the latest Gnome clone) while listening to this. That's a good night in for us.

Saturday was unexpectedly spent in Nottingham. Not that we were inexplicably teleported there or anything, just that the SO had a plot meeting (for larp) she'd forgotten about and it was moved to Saturday morning. So we got up early and went to Nottingham for breakfast. As you do. Then the boy and I had to leave while plot happened. Thankfully, another plot team member's other half was on hand to escort us around the city centre. We window shopped and laughed at the Terror getting bored and discovering that picking on someone two feet taller than you isn't a good idea. Then we went home, while others went to a faction meeting and IC social. Now I'm craving larp, although I know I never get as involved as I wish I could. Damned social phobia. How did I end up so emotionally involved with a hobby I'm so ill-equipped to deal with? Bah.

Then in the evening I discovered Dropquest, and rapidly got annoyed with myself for not being able to do it. Today I finished it, mostly by looking up the answers or by my SO telling me what to do. Briefly considered getting back into ARGs, then thought better of it.

I also managed to apply for a job that I actually liked the sound of, and am trying not to get my hopes up too much. Another admin assistant job, but for a start-up based at the science park that didn't specify someone with experience. These days I'm just overjoyed to notice the absence of "must have experience of a similar role" in job descriptions. But still no guarantee I'll even get an interview, so, yeah, mustn't get hopes up.

This evening was once again spent watching Misfits - finished first season now. As I probably won't get round to writing a review, let me just say this: I'd sell a kidney to able to write something that good. Probably both kidneys in fact. Have also been drinking cider, and realising that I may have had too much. Not in a "rolling around drunk" kind of too much but just starting to feel a bit melancholy. Which is not the way to end a week, but hey.

GM/Life Fatigue

So yeah.Another fortnight and no more gaming write-ups. Maybe I'll feel more up to running next week but I think I'm losing interest in my D&D campaign. It has been 12 levels and things are getting a bit samey. I can't seem to find ways to make fights new and interesting and with certain players' abysmal luck with dice turning things into a grind it's all been feeling a bit "meh". I suppose I should talk it over more with the other players, but wondering if taking a break and playing something different for a while might be good. Although I'm not sure if I could run another game right now. I still have a (mostly mental) list of ideas for campaigns and one-shots but I doubt I'd get very far prepping them.

See, it's not just D&D I've been getting bored with. It's just about everything. I have to force myself to pick up a book to read. Life's being a bit of a drag. Sure, some bits are good - I have a laugh with the Terror, or a nice night in with J, friends, playing games, drinking cider, watching Spaced, whatever. But it all fades away and I go to bed tired and don't quite fall asleep or wake up several times in the night and realise that the next day is going to be another whole load of housework and killing time.

Tempting to say it would be better if I got a job (or failing that, volunteer work) but I suspect I'd just end up dreading that as "yet another thing" to be tolerated. I just can't seem to shake this negative mindset. And yes, I know the reason I'm like this is "I'm depressed" but that doesn't make it much easier to live with. The meds help me get out of bed in the morning and mean I maybe only cry once or twice a week instead of once or twice a day, and I am so far managing to get a modicum of exercise/outsideyness a day but I still need "a project" to focus on. I think. But whenever I start one, I get bored within a few days and once I get bored I start hating to have to do things. And with housework and exercise and job hunting I can just ignore the hating it and think "but I have to", that's not so easy with stuff that's supposed to be enjoyable like gaming or reading or writing.

But hey, I cope. I'm mostly slacking off and watching TV/DVDs/iPlayer once housework is finished. Forcing myself to find things I might vaguely find interesting or funny and carrying on reading my way through our collection of Mage: the Ascension books. I'll live. At some point I'll have to stop slacking off and get a job or something but I'll worry about that when I get there.

That Was The Weekend That Was III

The last few days have mostly been lost to a low-lying fog of depression. Saturday was mostly good, with friend visiting for a few hours in morning and lunch out. SO had to go plot evil in Nottingham and, due to lateness of plotting, stayed overnight so it was just me and the boy for a bit. We coped, although I did get very bored once he was in bed. Realised I was still sucky at fighting in Oblivion and tried Black and White instead but got a bit bored. Despite the handholding, I felt I was still going much to slowly and didn't quite know what to do. Maybe I was just in wrong state of mind.

Sunday morning must have happened, and while waiting for SO to come back I started to read House of Suns. Reynolds fast became one of my favourite authors after reading Revelation Space a couple of years back, but it's been a while since I've read any of his stuff. Will try and do a proper review when I've finished it, so far it's being interesting with the usual Reynolds thing of far future civilizations, realistic physics and cunning tech.

Rest of Sunday I don't think went too well. I had a couple of naps and was mostly stressed. Some Carcassone in the evening helped lift both our moods, and today started off ok but it didn't take too long for apathy to kick in. Lack of suitable jobs to apply for meant less stress but more pessimism for future. Housework is hardly enthralling either, and again this afternoon I had a nap rather than do anything useful or even fun with my time. I managed to drag myself to school to pick up boy and started to wake up more on way home, but suddenly got a hit of agoraphobia and began to get jumpy whenever someone walked by. We were still on campus at this point, so my far-too-sensible six year old suggested we go see Daddy as he knows to tell Daddy when I'm "not feeling well". Hugs helped calm me down a bit, and we went home together. Got boy's school report which was mostly good (only problem is he talks too much and doesn't always pay attention - quelle surprise. So after going through it with him, we decided to "celebrate" by having a meal out, as it's been ages since we went to our usual pub meal. Probably didn't do my diet any good, though.

And then this evening I've been feeling pretty good. Silly moods. Watched University Challenge and then had to watch the Only Connect repeat on iPlayer as our digital TV reception is still only partial (after a few days of being non-existent). So, um, yeah. That's it.

Already running out of ideas

A few days back I had the crazy idea of trying to blog ever day. After two days of reviews, though, I ran out of time and focus and instead decided to try and think of something to blog about every day, but not worry if I can't. Last couple of days I've even failed to manage that much.

I suppose I could add to the mountains of words that have been written about the general election campaign, but I still feel a little underqualified to do so, being a political naif in many ways. (In fact one of my biggest problems with blogging is that I constantly doubt the validity of my own opinions and thus cannot see why anyone would be interested in them. This is probably why I suck at small talk, too.) There's TV shows and stuff, but I think I'd be even more rubbish at reviewing them than I was with Coraline and Locke & Key. I could probably ramble at length about how not to run a rpg campaign, and maybe some other stuff but I need more motivation (i.e. more poking) so maybe during the week.

That just leaves life and stuff, and not much has been happening. Mother-out-law been ill and still hasn't kicked her chest infection so may or may not be up to looking after active six-year-old for a weekend. Thankfully my parents jumped at the chance to have him, so we will be off to the Spring Moot next week without him, and I get a "proper" event without being tied to the tent once he falls asleep. Managed to get enough people together for a six-player game of Battlestar Galactica - I was a Cylon, much to C's delight as he always accuses me anyway. That's because he's a Cylon, of course. Last few days I've been quite "meh" which may just be down to being on reduced dosage or that time of the month or something else I just haven't thought of yet. Nice weather and mostly managing to not stress, but still feeling just a bit sad for some undefinable reason. Trying to ignore it and get on with housework, reading (Complete Arcane at the moment. I'm pretty much banned from running D&D v3.5 so it's mostly for ideas. And completeness, because it's a book we own I haven't read yet), watching TV and doing game prep when I remember. Not sure how successful the ignoring part is being, though.

A big ball of "meh"

[Warning - the following should be taken with a pinch of salt as I'm depressed and missed my meds last night.]

Yesterday I had vague plans about writing here about my game, but then I kind of screwed up and lost all enthusiasm for it, and for writing. I don't really know what I'm doing here - I think this whinging on the internet is similar to when I hung around in the maths department crying: a pathetic attempt to get people to notice me and maybe help or at least pay attention to me. I should stop. Even if I somehow managed to come up with a blog people actually wanted to read and enjoyed I'm not sure that's any better. It's all ultimately about attention-seeking and I really should be concentrating on surviving.

Not that I know why that's so hard. It's not like my parents have died, or I get random abuse shouted at me whenever I step outside. But everything seems to require so much effort and I'm tired all the time and I don't know what to do about any of it but just keep on plodding on. I've pretty much given up hoping things will improve. Maybe they will or maybe they won't. I have to cope either way.

Doctor's appointment tomorrow and I have no clue what to say. Don't know if meds are helping or not. Don't really know what I want them to help with. People have suggested counselling and it may be worth a go, but I keep failing to enquire about it because I'm shy and don't know what to say, even via email. And if I go, well....I'm shy and I won't know what to say. I just feel like giving up. I failed to get the comics I wanted today because the shop hadn't put them out yet, or they hadn't come yet, or they'd sold out already - I don't know because I'm too shy to ask. The idea that I might be able to get a job is just laughable but I have to try because, well, I "have" to. I "have" to do housework, which I don't want to do, because it needs to be done. I have to go fetch my son and feed him and find him things to do, because I have at least some shred of responsibility in me and I'm not quite prepared to wallow in self-pity to the extent of letting him suffer. I'm not sure what else I can do, though. I don't really want to do anything. I have nothing to aim for, no clue of what I might enjoy. I have a new D&D book I don't feel like reading right now and even a Cadbury's Creme Egg I don't feel like eating. I don't want to have to be strong and supportive because other people need me, and I don't want to keep saying I'll be ok when I feel anything but, and I don't want to keep making excuses for my feelings because "I'm depressed" or "it's the meds" or whatever the reason is doesn't matter: it doesn't change how I feel right now.

Rambling, yes, crying, just about, coping? Fat chance. But I'll live. Or at least, I'll continue to exist. It doesn't feel like living, but maybe tomorrow it will.

Being a good person

I probably spend too much time thinking about this. (Actually, I probably spend too much time thinking full stop, but that's by the by.) I want to be a good person. I want to do the right things. I want to be a good mother, a good pseudo-wife, a good daughter and a good friend. I want to be nice and helpful and "have worth".

I would also like to be a good mathematician, a good writer, a good GM. I want to create something, give something to the world that even a few people may enjoy. I want to be liked and admired and respected; who wouldn't? But that's where the first hint of a problem lies. Too often, I am afraid to be wrong. I don't want people to think of "badly" of me, even for a short while. And there's another problem. What nebulous concept of "bad" and "good" am I using? How am I to define these things, even to myself? What does it mean to be "a good person"?

I have vague ideas of what I should do to be "good" as I'm sure everyone does, but I try not to hold myself to these impossible ideals. I keep telling myself that as long as I try my best, that is enough. No-one can ask for more. But therein lies my biggest problem: I'm lazy. I dislike hard work. Sometimes, the effort seems like too much and the end result not worth all the hassle. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. And maybe it's true. Or maybe, because I'm depressed, I find things harder and because other people seem to manage the same things without so many tears or outward signs of distress, I just assume I'm lazy. Either way, I still find myself thinking I should try harder. How do I know I've done "my best"? How can I know that if I didn't just try a bit harder that I would manage it? At what point does it become reasonable to admit that perhaps there is a wall in the way, and continuing to walk into it serves no purpose?

So I keep marching on. I plod on every day, teetering on the edge between giving up and making progress. Some days, it's about all I can manage to survive the day without collapsing into tears; other days I get lots done but barely recognise the achievement because it's my expected norm - everyone should be able to do that. Sometimes I can enjoy things I feel I ought to enjoy: reading, watching a film or television programme, playing games, spending time with friends or family, snuggles in bed with my SO. Sometimes it feels like all the pleasure has been sucked out of these activities. And I keep thinking to myself, "I should be doing more." But every time I attempt "more", the challenges seem too great, the risk of failure too high, and I fall, if not at the first hurdle, then still far too soon. And I'm running out of willpower. I know I have to keep going on, but I don't know which direction to try, or how to get past this damned wall.

I honestly don't know what I was trying to say here.

Motivation-less

Everything seems to take much longer than it ought to. It took three or four times of thinking "I should get out of the bath now" before i actually managed to make myself move. Got dressed, after lying on bed for a bit. Ate breakfast and felt much better for a bit, but then decided it was work time and all the energy left me again.

I was actually looking forward to relearning some maths, but now I can't concentrate on it at all and can barely keep my head up. I don't feel sleepy, or tired, I just want to lie down with my eyes closed and not think about anything. Even typing this seems like too much effort to be worth it, and I keep stopping and starting.

A walk to the shop might do me good and count as "useful" - being outside and getting exercise are what I'm supposed to do. But the temptation to stuff my face with chocolate might be too much. I know I'm not hungry, but I want to eat. Eat and sleep and nothing else. But of course I have do other things. I have a family, a house; people I don't want worrying about me; corrections to finish, and they're so nearly finished, it's nearly all done and then I can pat myself on the back and call myself Doctor. I have stuff to read, stuff to do for my game. And I think part of me still does care about all these things, but I still can't quite bring myself to get on with something. Not yet. Need to fight the apathy, build up a reserve of willpower and then go for it.

I'm sure it shouldn't be this hard.