Bruce's journal (original) (raw)

This is my first post in, what, two months? And that's not because I've been busy.

I think it's fair to say that this winter has been one of my worst. I don't like talking about 'depression' because I've never actually gone to the trouble of seeking a diagnosis but I've been closed-in and shut-down for months. I even went so far as to actually make the appointment to talk to my doctor about it - and then, 24 hours before it, I had one of those wild, uplifting and purely positive days when my energy seems to be unlimited. By the end of the day, I'd bought tickets to three music festivals, two sets of flights and cancelled the appointment. That was a rare day - but, on the upside, things are getting better for now. I had a really fun night out on Thursday seeing Coldcut, Bonobo, Vitalic and Phil Hartnoll - and got through the all-nighter armed with nothing stronger than lager and 3 hours of sleep beforehand.

I know when things are bad - I avoid phonecalls, hide from the doorbell and leave mail unopened. I live in fear of becoming obligated to do something when I'd rather be sat at home, killing time. Washing-up sits in the sink, laundry covers the floor and I simultaneously punish myself for not getting things in order whilst telling myself that I can do it tomorrow and that it's all futile anyway because, even if I do pull myself together, the problem will only be back in a few days' time.

I understand that the symptoms above are all trivial to address but they're just that, symptoms. I know, deep down, that there's a serious cause at the bottom of it all but I don't know what to do about it. I'm torn about seeking medical advice because there's a voice that tells me that I'm just being crap and lazy and should just pull myself together - and I give it some credence because, even at my best, I am lazy. I also don't much trust the NHS to treat me with any care and I read that damned article on how all the anti-depression drugs were probably no better than placebos.

In the end, I'm probably not going to seek help until...well, until what? I've never been so seriously depressed as to want to bring harm on myself. Maybe next time I find myself saying no to everyone around me because I can't face being in company. Or maybe next time I find myself too scared to make noise in case the person ringing the doorbell works out I'm home.

Addendum: Just to say, the very existence of this post is a sign that things are okay at the moment - though I'm still considering seeing my doctor whilst I'm in a mood where things might actually get done.