Changing

After a trip to see my GP today, I've found out I'm not dependent on alcohol or anything else. She's apparently worked with a lot of people who are and I don't fit the bill. So although I'm not going to be rushing out to buy 12 cans and then smash them all in at once, it's good to know that I don't have to be some kind of teetotal monk who doesn't touch anything that alters consciousness. Saying that, while I'm working with my current therapist, being mindful is really important in terms of noticing how I'm feeling and trying to change it. It's much easier to block out the feelings of misery and hopelessness or panic and fear with a few cans or whatever else. It doesn't really work, though. That's the problem. The feeling I live with is always there underneath the surface. Some days it's so strong that I feel like I want to die, other days it's just lingering in the background like a witless heckler at a comedy gig. It's not going to cause me any serious damage, but it's as irritating as being stuck in a small room with a hyperactive wasp. So although I'm not planning to be entirely teetotal, I am planning to reduce my intake significantly and may still speak to somebody about the way I frame my use of booze and weed. Oblivion is an appealing prospect when you feel like I do, but almost certainly not a healthy one.

After being on citalopram for around 4 years, maybe 5, I can't remember, I've complained about feeling so tired that all I want to do is sleep all the time. I also have problems with concentration and end up staring in to space a lot. That's what they do, they numb you. Like being stoned or on Valium without the good bits. So my GP has suggested that I change to Venlafaxine, a slightly different class of anti depressant. Where Citalopram and Sertraline are SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors) this one is a SNRI (Serotonin–norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor) so hopefully, I should feel less tired and cloudy headed all the time. When your main skill is to write things using the contents of your brain, feeling as if you haven't been to bed and your head is full of wet cotton wool and thoughts of hopelessness tends to reduce your productivity a bit, if you know what I mean.

So over the next week my doctor has asked me to reduce my citalopram intake and increase my Venlafexine gradually and according a plan she has written up for me. I'm not looking forward to the brain zaps (electric shock sensations that shoot from your extremities to your head) or the stomach upsets, sweating and tingling skin, but maybe I'll get lucky and avoid some of the side effects by moving on to another type of antidepressant quickly. If not, I'll just have to live with it. Strange how the things that are prescribed to make you better can be so ineffective and even potentially damaging to your mood. I haven't felt truly happy in years, but somewhere in the background of all this, I do have a belief that I will beat what I'm going through. Not by going for a run or the old classic "manning up" but by going through the slow and steady process of therapy, antidepressants, mindfulness and positive thinking. It's not fun, any of this. In fact most of it feels like a massive chore. A ball ache so big you don't believe it's worth the hassle. But what's my alternative? Continue to sleep for around 15 hours a day on average and still feel tired. Continue being unable to function and work for a full day. Allow the obsessive thoughts that invade my head to win and eventually kill myself. That's not much of an alternative, really, so I think I'll stick with the plan I have.

I've got parties, stag dos and other social events coming up soon. Despite thinking of myself as the worst kind of miserable killjoy there is, I'm lucky enough to have a huge group of extremely supportive friends from around the UK and beyond. I get invited to things quite a bit and although I sometimes convince myself that I'm like a less endearing version of Eeyor from Winnie the Pooh, evidently, it's only really me who thinks that way. Well, part of me...It's complicated, this mental health business, especially when you really look in to it and believe me, I've looked in to it in quite a lot of detail. The negative thoughts that I have almost constantly come from a subconscious, inner critic, which has been so dominant for so long, I've started to believe that's how I really think. If there's anything to be done, my inner critic will find a reason not to do it. Saying it's either pointless or will be so boring that it's not even worth considering. To challenge this, I've started doing mindfulness exercises. Sometimes they work and I can observe these thoughts happening without judging them, like watching them form from outside of myself, other times, it doesn't work and all I can hear is my sneering inner critic saying "well, this is stupid." On the good days, I get some things done. Not much, as I feel so tired all the time, but something. It could be a blog like this or a load of washing that needs doing. Those things sound like five minute jobs to most people, but they currently take up a whole day for me.

Eventually and with practice, different medication and perseverance, I do believe I can beat this. It just feels utterly hopeless when even the nicest of comments, the most well  meaning of gestures and the tightest of hugs make you feel nothing at all. Those are the days when suicide seems reasonable. They don't happen all the time, but over the past few weeks I've had more days like that than I would wish on anybody. I'll never be the kind of twat who goes to the gym for fun or openly admits they "enjoy a challenge." I'm just not that guy. I want an easy life that I enjoy and to live on my own terms. I've started writing for a living already so I suppose I've taken a step in the right direction, I just need to keep looking for things that make me happy. Faking it is worse than not doing it all, as I learned from my years working in education and a few experimental nights out in trendy bars and clubs when I was student. When you feel as if you don't belong somewhere, your smile feels manic and forced. I want to avoid situations like that as much as I can. You only live once and I do intend to enjoy as much of my life as I possibly can. Even if I am a bit strange and hate so many of the things that make other people happy, there must be something out there for me. I already love music so much I would rather go blind than deaf and I still have at least a passing interest in literature as long is it isn't some pretentious shite about rich bastards from the past or some pedestrian yarn about the pain of being alive. Sorry to labour the point, but I don't really need to go to fiction to experience that kind of thing, I live it every day. Maybe I'll get in to Sci Fi or something. The sneering critic in me always had serious problems with suspension of disbelief elements, not to mention the woeful acting and gaping plot holes, but I have enjoyed the likes of Bladerunner, Vermillian Sands and a few other texts here and there as well. The main thing is that I want to start looking for opportunities to be happy, rather than listening to my subconscious voice (that seems very real and very present) when it tells me that nothing is worth doing.

As always, this was done in one take so it might be a little garbled. One day I'll go back and edit these. If you struggle with mental health problems, too. I hope you find the strength to carry on and survive another day.