Getting Better

So much time has passed, so much has happened

2010-01-29T00:55:00.001Z

Just wondering if anyone still has a feed set up for this. Will anyone notice that I have stopped by?

x=x+1

2006-02-08T13:16:00.000Z

Not so much a vicious circle, more a circular reference for the Excel geek in me.

From the Evening Standard - A study of the phenomenon of blogs - or online diaries - found people writing them feel happier and more organised.

If I was more organised, I would have more time to write my blog, which would make me feel happier and more organised.

Repeat.

Resolved?

2006-01-16T10:02:00.000Z

Hmm, struggling with the resolutions a bit...

1) Not doing much blogging, am I?

2) No gaps filled, just creating more as time passes.

3) Well, down to 11 stone 10 pounds, would have been less but I've been a bit piggy over the last few days.

4) Not sure that I'm working efficiently, but I'm certainly working like a maniac. I have been given one massive project and it has been taking up all my time lately. So that is my excuse, I've been trying not to procrastinate too much and get on with the work.

I will be back!

Resolutions

2006-01-01T17:58:00.000Z

Not so much a meme, more a cliche. Yes, it's New Year's Resolution Time.

1) Return to blogging - time to start writing again

2) Fill in the gaps - a lot of time has passed and a lot has taken place since my last post.

3) Lose weight - I hit 12 stone yesterday, I want to be back in the 10-somethings, please. No more vanilla lattes until I am.

4) Work efficiently - too much procrastination and diversion has distracted me over the last year. I lost 2005 to illness and recovery, I want me back.

That will do, for now.

Yum

2005-10-12T11:56:00.000Z

Autumn is here, winter on the way. The dark mornings and evenings, the cold, the wet, all the SAD triggers. But there is a bright side. Two silver linings on this cloud.

Boots. Preferably black leather.

Tights. Preferably black and patterned.

These obviously work best with a skirt, and the shorter the better, but just a hint of knee or shin is enough to set my imagination blazing. I feel warm inside, an Indian summer of lust.

Yum.

P.S. Google ranked number 3 for grumpet now!

Narcissism and the Grumpet

2005-10-11T13:06:00.000Z

Narcissism – I have succumbed. I now have a stats counter on the blog. I'm glad I waited this long, as the stats are hardly impressive, but at least they aren't non-existent.

Grumpet – the stats give me the ability to do such exciting things as look up referrers or the search queries that people used to find the site. It appears that a post that I made back in July about being a grumpet has put me 4th on the list of Google results for 'grumpet'. There is something surreal about being ranked so high for a single word. Obviously, there are some searches that will return one of my sites as the top ranked site, but they are (even) more esoteric than 'grumpet'.

What it will take to move up the ranks, I do not know, but it will be interesting finding out.

Cut Part Two

2005-10-11T12:40:00.000Z

Saturday was Day 30 since reducing dose. The morning after the Friday night before.

I hadn't slept particularly well and I woke up first. I kept my arm hidden while my mind raced. What should I say to H?

It was some time until she woke up, and when she did it wasn't long until we had both apologised to each other. We talked for a while and I said that I felt that I needed to go back to the doctor soon after our break away. She agreed. I also said that I thought I may need more counselling. She also agreed, suggesting that it may help while I'm 'weaning'. I half agreed – I suspect my GP may suggest that I go back up to 40mg per day.

Everything seemed calm.

'There is something I need to show you. Something that I cannot hide and I don't want you to see by accident. You don't have to react, you don't have to understand, just don't be angry or upset.'

Nerve-racking. For me to say and for her to here.

I showed her my arm.

H took it pretty well. She was obviously shaken and upset but didn't overreact or dramatise.

So, I have been wearing long sleeves ever since. Every now and then H asks to look and I prepare for a visit to the doctor.

Cut Part One

2005-10-10T14:30:00.000Z

Friday was Day 29 since reducing dose. The last couple of weeks have been harder. The withdrawal seems to have abated, so my fear is this is the underlying illness surfacing. Friday night was a climax, a breaking point, a crisis.

We spent a long weekend visiting H's sister and her husband. We have a laugh, catch-up, drink too much, dance a bit. All was reasonably ok until my head just wanted to stop. It was about 2230, perhaps 2300, and having been dancing in the living room I went off to the kitchen. I poured away the contents of my umpteenth glass of wine and started to make a cup of tea. In the other room the laughter, music and dancing continued. I wanted it all to stop, to go away.

As the kettle boiled so did my emotions. I was unhappy, impatient, intolerant and angry. H came in and we exchanged words. I cannot remember what exactly. I know I said that what was going on in the other room just wasn't what I wanted to be doing. She was drunk too, and told me this was her escape and asked why I had to spoil it?

I snapped back – 'I cannot escape from this' jabbing my forehead with my finger. She cried and I could do nothing but watch her return to the other room.

I went upstairs, sat on the bed, saw my penknife. I cut. Slash upon slash on my arm, inner and outer. Deep enough to bleed, shallow enough not to scar. The pain was a warm glow. I did not cry. I turned off the light and fell into a drunken sleep.

Hurting

2005-10-08T12:27:00.000Z

Hurting
Originally uploaded by j8g.

The last few weeks have been a slow descent into pain. Currently away visiting family, so my return home will see a return to the doctor.

Insult to Injury

2005-09-26T08:00:00.000Z

So, I fall victim to marketing. On each packet of crisps there is a code and every five minutes there is a random draw. If your code is picked you win an iPod. To suggest an element of skill, the spiel on the packet suggests picking a five minute slot most likely to have fewer entrants and therefore increase your chances.

So, as I have to be up at 0500 anyway, I text in my code before I shower. No, I didn't win. But every entry is acknowledged with what I assume is supposed to be some piece of music trivia. This is the text message I received:

Sorry you didn't win the Walkers iPod draw this time. Did you know Mick Jagger used to work as a porter in a mental hospital

That is not a good morning greeting suitable for a paranoid Monday dawn. And the lack of a question mark just annoys me even more.

Absence

2005-09-23T14:48:00.000Z

I miss my children.

I see them every weekend and every Wednesday, I talk to them every day. But I miss the little things, when they learn something new, going shopping with them, hearing their voices in another room, hearing them giggle with their friends.

The time I spend with them now is quality time, I am dedicated to them, things like DIY or other chores just don't exist while they are with us. But in some ways that just makes it all the more unreal.

It's almost 18 months since I left the family home, so this isn't exactly a new feeling. It waxes and wanes, stronger than usual at the moment. Changing job, moving desk again, means shifting photographs and pictures. I found a passport size photo of my daughter B (then 3) holding her baby brother G (then a few months). Three years have passed since the photo was taken and they have certainly changed.

Is it because I miss B the three-year-old – Daddy's little girl? Is it because I miss having the constant relationship with toddler G that I had with B?

Weaning Take 2, Part IV

2005-09-20T12:10:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
30mg Fluoxetine (40mg today, 20 tomorrow)
Emmet

It appears the side-effects have truly subsided. I still have the vivid dreams, but nothing to worry about. My only concern now is a strange, new habit of singing Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody to myself when alone. My singing voice is nowhere near good enough for me to want to risk singing while in company, so I hope I will soon overcome this.

Sometimes big companies are slow, bureaucratic beasts. Not on this occasion. It is less than two weeks since I decided to change job, and as of yesterday it has become official. My workload is increasing but, at the moment, I continue to relish this new pressure. My colleagues, past and present, have all welcomed the news, with many happy sentiments being passed on to me.

If I stick to the schedule suggested by my GP, Friday will see me reduce to 20mg of Fluoxetine per day. I await the impact of another session of withdrawal on this new enthusiasm.

The Moon On A Stick

2005-09-20T10:19:00.000Z

So NASA are going back to the moon.

Yes, there are plenty of arguments about how the huge investment will help science, education and even the economy devastated by Katrina. But I really think we should sort out a few of the problems on this planet before we start to f**k up any others.

Poverty, disease, an impending climate and fuel crisis. One would have hoped that Katrina had brought home the issues of climate change and an understanding of Third World hardship to the US. No such luck.

Withdrawal Part 3

2005-09-19T12:10:00.000Z

Appear to have worked through the withdrawal this weekend. Most of the side-effects have passed, although with some new visitors in the last few evenings:

Tremor

Other Strange Tingling or Painful Sensations

Dreams, including Vivid Dreams

Hopefully that will be it for now. Until the next step down, to 20mg per day.

Withdrawal Part 2

2005-09-15T09:46:00.000Z

I have been working my way through the list of withdrawal symptoms listed in the Healy Report mentioned yesterday.

During Tuesday and Wednesday I worked through:

Agitation

Depression

Lability of Mood

Irritability

Confusion

Insomnia or Drowsiness

Mood Swings

Feelings of Unreality

Today I woke up to:

Dizziness

Headache

Fatigue/Malaise

Flu-like Feelings

Nausea, Diarrhoea, Flatulence (Not the second, fortunately)

Which may sound bad, but they're a lot better than the emotions of the previous days. I did struggle to get up, repeatedly pressing the snooze button on the alarm clock for an hour. I finally dragged myself into work and I'm glad I did, as I'm feeling a little better for it.

Fortunately, I haven't had any of the following, yet:

Muscle Spasms

Tremor

Electric Shock-like Sensations

Other Strange Tingling or Painful Sensations

Dreams, including Vivid Dreams

Sweating

Feelings of being Hot or Cold

I printed off the report yesterday so that H could read it, which turned out to be a pretty good idea, as at least she has a bit more understanding of what I'm going through now.

It is a little concerning that I am going through all this dropping from 40mg to 30mg, and could well have to go through it, or worse, for another 3 steps.

One day at a time though, eh?

Withdrawal

2005-09-14T14:16:00.000Z

If you are withdrawing from fluoxetine, Prozac or other SSRI antidepressants, you should read this report.

It has not made me feel better but has given me some small hope that I may feel better soon.

In the meantime, I continue to feel really, really bad.

Descent

2005-09-14T07:47:00.000Z

Day 6, it being the morning after day 5. During Monday evening I started to detect changes in my behaviour and mood. These were more evident last night.

I have become irritable, impatient, over-sensitive, picky, snappy, grumpy. Ill logic turns the playful banter between myself and H into perceived bullying (I am the non-victim of someone who is not victimising me). What would simply be having a different point-of-view verges on the need for an argument.

On returning from work, I spent a few quiet minutes upstairs, short enough to not be missed, long enough to shed a single quiet tear and regain my control. Later on that evening, I did something that made H smile, which in turn made me cry.

H suggested we practice making babies and, to add to my misery, my normally limitless libido was non-existent. When we did go to bed I curled into a ball and felt so alone. It would have been easy to ask for a hug, instead I laid there thinking self-destructive thoughts until I eventually fell asleep.

Is this a side effect of the change in dose or is this the real me being uncovered?

Am I feeling different, or am I just truly feeling for the first time in months?

Can I break through this or will it break me?

On the way

2005-09-12T14:28:00.000Z

On the way
Originally uploaded by j8g.

Met with occupational health, who are very enthusiastic about my decision to change job. I am too, which is something I never thought I would feel about work.

(Picture stolen from Been Broken)

Weaning, Take 2, Part III

2005-09-12T11:07:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
30mg Fluoxetine (40mg today, 20 tomorrow)
PG Tips

Day 4 and I haven't broken down yet. How positively optimistic am I? I have found myself feeling a little more nervous about things than usual, but not worryingly so. I guess having identified this change, I am in control of it.

I have a meeting with our occupational health team this afternoon. This is to discuss my decision to change job, as much to cover their backs should I accuse them of forcing me into the change as it is to check that I'm happy. I am quite excited about the change, as my current role is completely failing to light my fire.

I've been on anti-depressants for almost 10 months now, although with the benefit of hindsight I can see that I have had a history of depression for the last 20 years. I don't think I've recovered, as such, just risen to a point where I no longer contemplate suicide on a daily basis. I have a better understanding of my moods, of my drivers and of the therapies available. I think it is realistic, not pessimistic, to consider that there is a chance of me slipping back, either in a few weeks or a few years. To accept that is not defeat, it is a safety precaution. Denying this possibility would risk delaying future treatment should it be necessary.

Not that I'm out of the woods yet. I think I'm approaching a clearing and this woodland metaphor is stirring up certain pixie fantasies.

Weaning, Take 2, Part II

2005-09-09T14:01:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
30mg Fluoxetine (20mg today, 40 tomorrow)
Champagne
Crazy Chick, Charlotte Church (lyrics somewhat apt and, yes, I most definitely would)

First day on a reduced dose. Too early to feel any different, other than a general positive feeling that I am trying to maintain. It seems ironic that in today's news there is a story about people not being given the right kind of support when trying to stop taking anti-depressants. As it happens, I think my current GP is excellent, so I guess I'm lucky.

About two months ago, I wrote this:

My biggest concern is the 5 days a week working up here. How will I cope? How will I cope if things go according to plan and H becomes pregnant after we marry and gives up work?

So, I enter a period of trepidation.

Can I cope physically and mentally working 5 days here?
Can I cope financially if I go part time, and only work 4 days a week?
Or can I cope financially if I take a significantly lower paid but full time job in the other office?

No, H isn't pregnant!

However, opportunity has coincided with desire, and I have been given the chance to change to a job in my 'local' office. It is a pretty big pay cut, but it should balance with a saving in running costs on the car. I will still go up to the other office once or twice a week, so I can still car share with H and will even be able to claim back my fuel costs on some journeys. Combined with a drop in my tax bill after losing the company car, things should work out ok.

I hope.

The real benefit is working in a better environment, in a job that I have more experience in that is a lot more exciting. There are times where I find my current role just so boring. That is no way to keep motivated.

It has been an eventful week.

Weaning, Take 2, Part I

2005-09-08T13:45:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
40mg Fluoxetine (for now)
8mg Acrivastine (as required)
Fajitas
Frances the Mute (The Mars Volta)

It's almost five months since my last attempt at weaning off the anti-depressants.

I went to see my GP this morning, just a usual appointment to check how things are going before renewing my prescription. We discussed how things have been positive lately, the occasional down but mostly consistent ups. So we agreed to try again. For the next fortnight I will drop down to 30mg of Fluoxetine per day, which means taking one 20mg capsule tomorrow and two the day after, repeating that pattern for a while. Then trying to go down to just one tablet every day.

I have mixed feelings about this. I'm not scared, just a little nervous. It's a positive step, which means a lot to me, but even more to H. I can read my signs, I know the difference between grumpy and a down, so I know that I can always go back up to two a day.

I think I have been coasting for the last few weeks, which would probably explain this blog being a little slow. I need to think more about my actions to manage myself through this change. Time for a little extra self-analysis, which in turn should mean some more posting. After all, posting here is part of my self-prescribed therapy and you are my self-appointed support group.

Please ensure your safety harness is firmly in place and keep your arms within the car. The ride is about to start.

No S**t

2005-09-02T14:09:00.000Z

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/4207796.stm

Exercising / Exorcising

2005-09-02T08:55:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
40mg Fluoxetine
8mg Acrivastine (definitely required)
Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd, Atmosfear Trance Remix)
Bacon and Eggs

'Broke' has been writing about exercise and its effect, both positive and negative, on his depression lately. It's a topic that is close to my heart (or close to my mind, perhaps) as I always feel a positive boost when I have the opportunity to go out cycling.

Yesterday was one such time. As I had to drop off my old company car, rather than mess about with lifts or whatever, I put my bike in the boot and cycled the 22 miles home. The weather was good, not too hot but perhaps a little too windy, so it was hard work. My bike is nothing special, but it is at least set up to do better on road than most others who struggle on mountain bikes. Road tyres make such a difference, and while I'm not particularly fit, you feel like the strongest man in the world when you go zooming past another cyclist. Your mind clears itself of the humdrum and you can either focus on nothing but pushing the pedals or on the big issues that otherwise get clouded.

About 5 miles of my journey is on a busy, fast dual carriageway. There is no cycle path, just a few feet between me and the arctics doing 56mph or cars doing 90+. It occurred to me just how easy it would be to die out there. A quick swerve and I could be under the wheels of a lorry. Nobody would suspect it was suicide (until now, anyway, damned blog) so there would be no worries over whether my dependants received insurance payments. So it's a good thing that I feel positive during such rides.

Mind you, the last 6 miles became bloody painful. Tired legs, sore backside. Too much drinking and eating during the honeymoon.

There is a detrimental effect, though. Last night I was tired, even more tired than usual. When I get tired I tend to get grumpy and by about 10pm I was downright miserable. I decided I wasn't going to come into work this morning, instead I was going to sulk and wallow.

For some reason I changed my mind when I woke up, probably fear of worrying or upsetting H. I'm glad I did, my mental state cannot be ruled by my energy levels, for that is a dangerous spiral. I have come into work, I will get better.

Such resolve was tested while 'desk skiving'. This beautiful post on a Beautiful Revolution nearly made me cry, it certainly made me dizzy.

End of an era

2005-09-01T11:49:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
40mg Fluoxetine (still)
8mg Acrivastine as required
Turin Brakes
Wedding cake

I shouldn't really complain about losing my company car. I was lucky to have one in the first place. It's more a case of what it symbolises, the end of high-flying-JAG.

When I first ordered the car, I had just been promoted. A six month secondment had turned into a year, which then turned into a permanent position. I was at the top of my game (for want of a better expression). I could do no wrong and I was going far.

I was promoted again in the time that followed. Very few of my colleagues had company cars, none of them had an Alfa. I was at my most confident, which is how I managed to change car sharing with H into a love affair.

Then I came crashing back down to earth. When I was finally able to return to work it was to a different, lower position and the car had to go.

I am slowly returning to 'normality' and this includes my daily transport. Far more practical, it should cost me about two pound less each time I drive to the office. It is also a big, family friendly car, H and I would like to expand our family to make use of it. So I'm not really negative about the Pug. It's a great car, perfect for my needs and good to drive. The loss of the Alfa marks the end of an era.

And the start of a new one.

Farewell, old friend.

2005-09-01T08:58:00.000Z

Farewell, old friend.
Originally uploaded by j8g.

My 60,000 miles are up and my job no longer comes with a company car. So, farewell to my beautiful Alfa. We have had our ups...

She was beautiful inside and out and to the ear

She was fantastic to drive - a real driver's car, happy to do 120+, few cars got in her way on the motorway, even fewer expected to pass her

Car sharing in her led to flirting, love and marriage to H

We spent a wonderful honeymoon putting the last miles on her around France, Italy and Switzerland

...and our downs...

She guzzled oil and petrol

Her clutch cracked

Her catalytic converter disintegrated

Her engine management system didn't

She blew bulbs frequently

Her radio never really worked properly

Her suspension creaked

Of course, being a company car, I never had to pay to fix any of her problems (although the petrol bill was all mine). Now I return to the real world, paying for services, tax and insurance on a second hand car. A Peugeot 406. Estate. Diesel.

Ciao bella.

--

Sent from my Treo

Prolixity

2005-08-22T12:48:00.000Z

A quality I'm becoming less likely to ever being ascribed with. No, I haven't swallowed a dictionary – it's just below 'prolific' and I was hoping that by looking that word up it would have some sort of side-effect on me.

Since my return I seem to be so absorbed with reading that I have no energy to write. This has been encouraged with my discovery of RSS feeds. Yes, I knew they existed, but I finally did something about them, by installing Attensa. This rather nifty bit of software puts all my favourite blogs into my Outlook folders. This has the benefit of keeping me constantly up-to-date and making it look like I'm working at the same time. The downside is the content doesn't appear in the same template as the author intended, it's not as easy to post comments, and you miss out on your AdSense marketing opportunities. Like I'm really going to become an AdSense millionaire.

So I have expanded my daily reads. It is compulsory that you at least read this post in a beautiful revolution, if only because it prompts the comment 'you should blog about your depression because otherwise people will think you are just a penguin'.

I am not a penguin.

Return

2005-08-19T10:43:00.000Z

Forgive me blog, for I have sinned.

How long has it been since your last confession, my child?

Three weeks, Father blog.

Hmm. That's quite some time. What sins have you committed?

Impure thoughts, lust, gluttony, sloth. The list seems endless.

Good honeymoon, then?

F**king fantastic, thanks.

Cool.

Just Married

2005-07-31T10:29:00.000Z

Just Married
Originally uploaded by j8g.

Well, not quite just, been married for a whole week now.

Will write more on our return, but the suffice to say the day was wonderful and honeymoon is fantastic.

--

Sent from my Treo

Am I...

2005-07-19T13:43:00.000Z

...on the outside looking in...

...or the inside looking out?

Tired

2005-07-14T11:12:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
40mg Fluoxetine
8mg Acrivastine as required
Cream Soda
Donderevo

A change of antihistamine. According to the notes, the tablets I was taking shouldn't cause tiredness, but I have been so exhausted lately that I have to try something. These new tablets are taken on demand, they only take 15 minutes to start working. So far I haven't needed one, so who knows how good they are?

The tiredness could be related to my procrastination. I have some work to do, but nothing exciting, demanding or urgent. So I put it off, occupy myself in other ways, and end up doing not a lot at all. My brain isn't being exercised, so it is slowing down.

Sent my cv off in response to a job advertised online. Don't know why, doubt I'll even get an interview, but it felt like something I wanted to do.

Seeing the doctor this afternoon. Need a fresh prescription for my fluoxetine. I will talk to him about the tiredness, about not wanting to reduce my dose until after returning from my honeymoon. I am nervous about 'coming down' after a 3 week holiday and all of the excitement of the wedding.

Grumpet

2005-07-13T13:21:00.000Z

Apparently, that's what I am. Or at least it was how H described me based on the mood I was in last night. After my discussions at work, I was feeling low. Plus, I've been feeling very tired lately. Never mind, off to see the doctor tomorrow, I'm sure he can wave a magic wand.

Trepidation

2005-07-12T15:20:00.000Z

When I was signed off from work in December 2004, I didn't return for 3 months. I went through counselling to discover that it was not work that I found impossible, it was the job I was in. I did not want to be a manager, I fundamentally disagreed with our performance management appraisal system. The job I was doing was overstretched and undervalued.

When I was finally able to start talking to my manager again, I went through each of these issues with her and she made changes so that my temporary replacement did not suffer as I had. We agreed that while I wanted to return to work, I did not want to return to that role. My temporary replacement became permanent and the changes in his role continued until it has now become an achievable job. I am glad that he does not have to go through the problems that I did.

So instead a new job was 'invented' for me. It was a return to my more technical background and a chance to learn some new skills that would leave me feeling less incapable of finding work. I have now been in that role for just under 5 months and the fact that it was invented for me is reflected by the somewhat less than taxing nature of my workload.

On my return it was agreed that this would be a six month trial for me and the role – would I be happy in that job, could I cope and was that job needed by the department?

The new role has the following downsides:
Giving up the company car
Being based in one location rather than 2
Having a different manager

The company car has to be returned when it reaches 60,000 miles, which will be not long after returning from honeymoon. The cost of having to run my own car should be offset by the fact that I will pay a lot less income tax each month. I hope. However, I will miss having such a gorgeous car and not having to worry about the hassle of maintaining it.

Our company has two locations, one about 20 miles from where I live, the other about 70. My main location is the 70 mile trip. While I have been easing back in to my job I have been allowed to spend two days a week in the more local office. I have been asked to start working towards spending all week in the main location. The commuting has a major effect on my physically, and while I car share with H for 3 days of the week, she is only part time, so the other 2 I will be on my own. I am worried about this.

The change in manager has been significant. I used to work for D. I now officially report to N, who works for P, who is at the same management level as D.

Don't worry, you won't need to remember all these 'names'.

The fact that I am 'down a level' doesn't bother me. I'm just glad noone has to report to me anymore. Unfortunately, N is not exactly a dynamic manager, and hes left most of the managing to P. P leaves quite a bit to be desired.

She was supposed to organise monthly progress meetings with her, myself and D. We had one in March when I initially returned and today we had the second, nearly 5 months later. Hmmm. She is not a people person, she tends to be more abrupt. I miss working for D.

She wants to start stretching me, so I have agreed to book a training course for when I return from my honeymoon and then take on a new objective, a little project to see how I cope. I am nervous about this, but know that it is what I need, otherwise I will die of boredom. So it seems my trial of this new role will be extended.

My biggest concern is the 5 days a week working up here. How will I cope? How will I cope if things go according to plan and H becomes pregnant after we marry and gives up work?

So, I enter a period of trepidation.

Can I cope physically and mentally working 5 days here?
Can I cope financially if I go part time, and only work 4 days a week?
Or can I cope financially if I take a significantly lower paid but full time job in the other office?

The next few months will show.

History

2005-07-12T10:08:00.000Z

As my readership appears to be expanding, and to help me avoid writing about things that I've already done to death, I thought I would post a little background and summary of the story so far...

I'm JAG, I'm 33 and I suffer with depression.

I met J in 1991, we married in 1996 and we had two children, my daughter B (now 6) and son G (now 3).

Towards the end of 2003, my mother became very sick - Catalyst – and in January 2004 she died. I haven't been able to write about this yet, but I have been able to talk about the funeral – Catalyst Part 3. My mother's death did not cause my depression, instead it started a series of changes in my life that lead in that direction. I inherited her strength, her courage and determination, and used them to make some serious decisions about my life.

In April 2004, J & I broke up and have since divorced - A year ago today... The upheavals in my personal life no doubt contributed to my troubles, but it was work that really caused my stress and depression.

I have worked for the same company, big pharma, since 1992. Various changes culminated in my feeling suicidal and breaking down in December 2004 - Cause and Effect.

Fortunately, by then I was madly in love with H. She is 31, she is beautiful, she works two desks away from me and she saved my life – Celebrations.

We marry in 11 days' time. I hope you continue reading to find out what happens and to see the gaps in my history fill in.

I'm getting better.

Missing

2005-07-10T11:07:00.000Z

Missing
Originally uploaded by j8g.

Well, my stag night in London was excellent.

There was a really positive atmosphere in the hotel, at bars and clubs, out on the streets. Our hotel was just down the road from where the bus was attacked, some of the streets were still closed to traffic and 'Missing' posters were stuck on telephone boxes and bus shelters. There was a heavy police presence.

But everyone was having fun. The police were jovial, joining in with the fun. We had our picture taken with some and as we walked back to the hotel in the early hours of the morning, we bought Mars bars for some others.

Although the Tubes were quieter than usual, the clubs were packed as always. We were defiant, once again the terrorists had failed.

Returning home today, the Tubes were still a mess, delays and line closures, the tannoy announcements constant. But nobody was complaining. The anger and frustration that would have been the norm was nowhere to be seen.

A young lad tried his, no doubt usual, trick of hiding in the toilet to avoid paying his fare. This weekend it wasn't going to work, as there were regular security checks and he was found. His abusive responses were rewarded with him being ejected from the train.

A great night out with my friends and family. Lots of food, beer, vodka, cigars and laughter.

Oh, and lap dancing. A surreal (but certainly enjoyable) experience.

--

Sent from my Treo

Normality

2005-07-08T12:55:00.000Z

Call it British Resolve, Blitz Mentality, Resilience, whatever, already life returns to normal. Tubes, trains and buses are running again. There tales of sorrow, of grief, of fear and amazing strength and bravery. This picture has hit me more than any other, the thought of walking through those tunnels seems to sum up life. And death.

I grew up in London, worked in and around the places that were attacked. I travelled on those tubes, walked those streets and I'm proud to be a Londoner. Tomorrow night I celebrate my stag night, in and around Russell Square. Terrorism only works by spreading terror. Tomorrow night my friends and family go out to prove that once again, they have failed.

Another image has inspired me over the last couple of days, in this post in Been Broken, the latest addition to my daily reads. It's beautiful and it, along with the text, strikes so many chords.

Fcuked Up.

2005-07-07T12:31:00.000Z

It is two days to my stag night, planned to take place around Russell Square. It is hard to imagine any fun taking place near there at the moment. But life must go on, otherwise they win.

Catalyst Part 3

2005-07-07T10:22:00.000Z

Yes, I know I haven't written part 2 yet, I'm not try to do a George Lucas, it's just that at the moment it is easier for me to jump from illness to funeral.

Last night, on Channel 4, there was a documentary entitled 'Gridlock', about the chaos caused on the roads by heavy snow on January 30th 2003. (Out of interest, it featured Jag of Route 79, whose journey home took hours that night).

It also happened to be the night before my mother's funeral.

The first we realised something was wrong was on the M25. We had heard forecasts of snow, and as the funeral was in North London we were glad we had taken the sensible decision to book into a hotel the night before. We set off from Kent in the afternoon, just in case the weather turned bad. We needed to get to junction 25 of the M25 and as we reach junction 27 it was snowing quite hard.

Pretty soon it was obvious that this was no ordinary snow flurry, the traffic ground to a halt. The distance we should have covered in about 10 minutes took almost 2 hours. I was in the car with my children and (my now ex-)wife J. J's parents were heading down from the north to meet us at the hotel, and phone conversations suggested they were experiencing similar weather and delays.

The M25 was soon a car park and the last few hundred yards of our journey along it was a cheeky crawl up the hard shoulder, as we were one of few trying to get off at that exit. We carefully followed the slippery local roads to our hotel and were very glad of our reservation – quite a few people were in reception who had decided to give up on their journeys and find a room for the night.

We checked in, found our room and a call to J's parents suggested that we go on to the restaurant and order dinner, they would catch up with us later. We ate, the meal punctuated with mobile phones ringing as stranded travellers checked on their families and vice versa. My eldest sister contemplated coming to join us at the hotel rather than risk her journey home, but realised that either destination would be equally difficult, and she would be stuck with nothing to wear for the funeral.

We returned to the hotel reception, where they were now turning people away as all the rooms were full. Having checked that they would keep J's parents' room for them, we went upstairs. By the time the children were ready for bed, J's parents still hadn't arrived. They assured us they would be there later but, rather than disturb us and the children, would wait to see us at breakfast.

The view from the window was a blanket of snow, in the distance a line of lorries parked on the M25. We went to sleep.

The next morning we awoke to find the white blanket was still covering everything. At around 6am my mobile rang. We assumed it was J's parents asking us when we wanted breakfast. In fact, it was the hotel calling to see if I still wanted the room I had booked - J's parents had spent the night in their car, on the motorway. Later that morning I had to head over to my mum's flat to prepare for the funeral. One lane of the M25 was open and as most other drivers had decided to stay at home, I was able to carefully make my way along to next exit and my mother's home. I got stuck a couple of times but made it there and back.

By this time, J's parents had made it to the hotel. While J and I prepared to go to the service, they took the children off to build snowmen.

Come the time of the funeral, we were lucky the hearse was a big old rear wheel drive model, managing to gently glide from flat to funeral. For the last few yards the funeral director got out to walk in front of the car, the poor man slipping and falling over in front of everyone.

There was something extra solemn about a funeral in the snow. Fortunately, mum was being cremated so there was no frozen grave to worry about. It was a sign of people's respect for her that many managed to travel so far in such bad conditions. We imagined mum being up above somewhere, watching over us, passing judgement on those who couldn't be bothered to make it!

On that day, my mother left two legacies. In front of friends and family I was shown to be a 'grown-up', looking after my elder sisters, organising a funeral and looking after my mother's estate. And my children, in particular my daughter, will always have happy memories of staying in a hotel and building snowmen.

You can see the landmarks of this blog entry in Google Earth by downloading this.

Maps

2005-07-05T14:17:00.000Z

I have had a near lifelong fascination with maps. Not in some geeky, obsessive way, I don't hoard them, but I've always found them interesting.

I suppose, as I child growing up in London, the London Underground Map was a constant feature of my life. It is an icon in its own right. Then, at school, part of our geography lessons were based on learning how to use an Ordnance Survey map, probably the only part of the geography curriculum that I was actually interested in.

On rare occasions, with time to kill, I have sometimes seen something on a map and then made the journey to see it for real, just to find out what it looks like on the ground. Is that long, straight road really that long and straight (and if so, how fast can I drive along it)? Is that hill really that steep?

And so, I have become addicted to Google Earth. If you have a similar addiction, here is the location of Doris, who featured in my first blog entry.

Expect more topographical posts in the future.

Self-harm - DIY

2005-07-04T10:48:00.000Z

Self-harm - DIY
Originally uploaded by j8g.

Who needs depression when DIY can provide a means for cutting yourself without the stigma of mental illness?

While trying to remove the old silicone sealant around the bath I managed to slice a section of nail and finger off. Not so dramatic to require anything other than a plaster, but enough to make it hurt the day after and make it damn difficult to type.

--

Sent from my Treo

Overcompensation

2005-07-01T15:33:00.000Z

Weight: 10st 11lbs
Miles cycled this week: 42

Drugs of choice:
Fluoxetine 40mg
Loratadine 10mg
Google Earth (now addicted)
Mars Bar

The problem with cycling to work is the extra appetite it induces far outweighs any diet assistance it provides, or so it appears. Having had my usual Special K bar this morning, after arriving at work I had a second breakfast of bacon, sausage, fried egg and mushrooms. My lunch of a tuna baguette was also supplemented with a narcotic-like fix of a Mars Bar.

I repeated my cycle home last night / cycle in to work this morning effort of a fortnight ago. It felt easier than last time, whether that's fitness levels or weather conditions I don't know. Any weight loss will no doubt be regained thanks to my raging post-cycle hunger. I suppose there's the excuse that muscle is heavier than fat, and my legs are looking slightly more attractive in my lycra shorts than usual.

Despite leaving me physically exhausted, I do feel it gives me an emotional or mental boost, which is a good thing. Work has been a little slow, and boredom tends to bring on moments of depression.

You can choose your friends...

2005-06-30T10:31:00.000Z

Weight: 10st 12lbs
Miles cycled this week: 0

...but apparently not your family. Bugger. I suppose it is the distance, both physical and emotional, between me and my father that makes him harder to deal with. He doesn't appear to be particularly excited about my upcoming wedding, not so much as to be obstructive, just not particularly helpful.

If there are two ways to say something, he will always pick the most sarcastic and most easily misinterpreted.

We will be spending a few days with him on our honeymoon, at his home in Switzerland. I can hope that this will provide some bonding time, rather than more opportunities to annoy.

Open plan

2005-06-29T08:36:00.000Z

Open plan
Originally uploaded by j8g.

The office is open plan. People walk past, stop and say hello, we can talk to each other without moving from our desks. It's light and airy, a pleasant atmosphere to work in.

On the flip side, there are no secrets. I have a two monitor set up, so passers-by tend to be intrigued by this and more likely to stop and look. Being a habitual desk skiver this means that everyone knows when I'm eBaying. I am a multi-tasker, I am almost always working at the same time, on the other screen or in another window, but they don't necessarily spot that.

What feels particularly strange though is the person who walked by and mentioned that he had read my blog. (If you're reading this � hello � you may be my only regular reader!). Anonymity doesn't last long when the whole world can see what you're typing.

Why does it feel strange? Surely the whole point of a writing a blog is for someone to read it, otherwise I'd just keep a diary locked away. I guess I just never expected to meet the audience.

Strange. But pretty cool. As long as he can keep a secret...

--

Sent from my Treo

Catalyst

2005-06-23T09:23:00.000Z

On 24th January 2003, my mother died. I feel that in some way I inherited her strength that day. I grew up and those changes made the next couple of years turn out the way they did.

I think we had underestimated how unwell she was in the time running up. Mum had diabetes, she had it for about 15-20 years and it was taking its toll. Her body was under too much strain and the obvious effects it was having on her eyesight were mirrored by less obvious effects on her internal organs.

During the summer of 2003 Mum had undergone eye surgery. She spent a couple of weeks recuperating in a home near where I lived, at my eldest sister's expense, and the extra care she received there brought her back to us a bit. We realised that we hadn't seen how unwell she was becoming. She obviously had been having trouble looking after herself, she hadn't been eating properly and now she was building her strength up again. Being so close to my home also meant I was able to see her more often and, more importantly, she was able to see my children every day.

She had seen my daughter, B, grow from a baby into a little person and I hoped this surgery and regained strength would mean she could see my son, G, do the same. She didn't.

Mum returned home and for a while seemed better. Her eyes didn't appear to be improving that much, and sadly it seemed the surgery hadn't had the results we had hoped for. But at least she had regained some strength. As the year moved on though, she became weak again.

Test after test, hospital visit after hospital visit, it took forever to diagnose thyroid problems and medicate. Again, this diagnosis brought some hope that she would get better. In fact the treatment had the opposite effect.

In November 2002 we went up to London for our traditional week of pre-Christmas shopping. This could be our last week long trip, we thought, as B would soon be starting school. It was during that week that I started to think it might be the last time for a different reason.

Mum hadn't been well, the medication was making her ill, upsetting her stomach. I realised there were marks on the carpet and floor where she hadn't been able to make it to the bathroom in time. I cleared up as best I could and started to worry. Mum was a strong, proud woman though. She wouldn't have admitted how ill she was. Plus, with her failing eyesight, she probably didn't even realise that she was in such a state.

Christmas came and, as always, we were going to stay with my ex-wife's parents up north. Mum didn't want to come with us, nor did she want to go to my sister's, her usual alternative. When we arrived at my in-laws on Christmas Eve I cried. It dawned on me, this was going to be Mum's last Christmas and I wasn't going to be with her.

Disappointment

2005-06-22T12:41:00.000Z

Weight: 10st 13lbs
Miles cycled this week: 6

Disappointed that I'm still 10st 13lbs after eating less, cycling more and even throwing up!

Disappointed that I saw H put a cigarette and her lighter in her bag to bring to work this morning. Not disappointed by her but for her. It is a shame after how hard she has tried but I understand why. She hasn't mentioned it to me yet, though.

Disappointed that this blog is not the self-searching, therapeutic journal of insight that I intended it to be. Was it Freud who always asked 'tell me about your mother'? I just read the paper journal I started when first diagnosed and reluctant to use a computer, and will transfer it to this blog in my next post. Perhaps then we can get back on track.

Petite Anglaise

2005-06-21T11:38:00.000Z

Today I add a new blog to my list of daily reads. Petite Anglaise is an eloquent ex-pat, an Englishwoman living in Paris. I can relate to her on many levels, she has recently ended her relationship with the father of her two-year-old, I would love to have lived in Paris and I too was Elite. Having just broken up with her partner she has taken the brave but admirable decision to stay in Paris and not return home, although it sounds like home is now Paris, I think you catch my drift.

My father left my mother when I was about one and went to live in the south of France. I have mixed feelings about this, but my experience makes me feel that Petite is doing the right thing.

I had no problem with my father leaving, at that age I knew no different, just as my son G, now 3, accepted my departure. Leave it later and your children either grow up in the shadow of your arguments (as my elder sisters did) or they are more affected by the split (as my daughter B, now 6, was).

I didn't handle him being so far away that well. I saw him twice, maybe three times a year. He tried to rule my life from a distance later on, pushing me through private school, which I resented. I guess he thought he was doing his best for me, but being so far away he didn't know how I felt about things. I hated being taken to the airport by my mother, flying off to France with my 'UM' (Unaccompanied Minor) pouch around my neck. I hated the barrier it put up to me to building out-of-school friendships when I spent the summer holidays in another country.

As a teenager I hardly ever saw him. In more recent times we have grown a little closer, him being supportive through my divorce. We are similar in the way that we do not work on our relationships, if one doesn't make the effort neither will the other, so it is my hope that I can overcome this mutual failing and find my father, or at least not lose him again.

Petite has ended an unhappy relationship before it could hurt 'Tadpole' but stayed close so that her daughter has a father as well as a mother.

She also appears to have found new love, and I know how good that feels.

Overdose

2005-06-20T08:31:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
40mg Fluoxetine
10mg Loratadine
Champagne - Nicolas Feuillatte
Villiger cigar

Excessive drugs of foolish choice:
More champagne
Bottle of Chablis
Another cigar

Dinner with friends last night. I drank a lot, but no more than I can usually handle. Perhaps it was the second the cigar (which I only vaguely remember smoking, so what was the point?), or spending too much time sitting in the sun earlier in the day. Whatever it was, no doubt the most significant factor was the large amount of alcohol and for the first time in many, many years, I threw up.

Fortunately I waited until I was at home in the bathroom, no embarrassing vomiting in friends' house. In fact I was fine all evening, on my best behaviour and doing nothing too drunk or stupid. I did drop my trousers at one point to display the pinkness of my bottom, having been nude sunbathing, but that was considered acceptable behaviour.

The real downside is not enough sleep and having to get up at five this morning. Managing to work all day without dozing off could be challenging.

Bum

2005-06-17T15:15:00.000Z

Weight: 10st 12lbs
Miles cycled this week: 46

A suitably apt word to finish last night's entry. Bum indeed. For when I climbed onto my bike this morning my bum was making its presence felt. Mind you, it still came second to the feeling that I had left my legs behind in bed. The first part of my ride to work is up a very steep hill. I nearly fell off, my legs were so tired. Fortunately, once I got to the top it became a lot easier. There was less of a headwind and a more downhill journey than the ride home the evening before.

The company I work for have two offices, one local (22 miles) one not so local (around 70). Naturally, the office I am based in is the furthest away. However, if I'm lucky, I can spend a couple of days a week in the more local office. I used to live a lot closer to it, so I could easily cycle both ways. At the moment I'm not fit enough, nor do I have enough time, to cycle both ways, 44 miles, in one day.

So, instead I put the bike rack on the back of the car and drove into work yesterday, cycled home, cycled in this morning and will drive home today. Most people, including H, think I am mad. I enjoyed it though, as much for the challenge as the fresh air.

I suspect that this morning's lower weight will not continue, despite the cycling. All the exercise has done is given me a bigger appetite, so I'm eating twice as much today.

Hot...

2005-06-16T17:53:00.000Z

Weight: 10st 13lbs
Miles cycled this week: 24

...and sweaty. Just cycled home. 22 miles. Wonderful. Car at work, so no choice, must cycle back in the morning.

Bum.

Bluetooth

2005-06-15T08:10:00.000Z

Weight: 10st 13lbs
Miles cycled this week: 2

I love the concept of Bluetooth. I have had numerous devices and varying levels of success with them. No, I haven't tried toothing (hoax or otherwise) but have been known to occasionally bluejack. The technology would have so much to offer if it was just a bit simpler to use.

However, there is a downside.

Bluetooth earpieces.

Yes, good idea in the car, although I have always preferred to fit a full car-kit, having been blessed with access to cheap / free kits and an over-confidence in vehicle wiring.

But...

when you get out of the car...

TAKE IT OFF.

Life is not Star Trek, you do not look like Uhura. You do not look like a Secret Service Agent. You do not look cool, you are not an ubergeek road warrior.

You look stupid.

Hunger

2005-06-13T10:56:00.000Z

Weight: 11st 2lbs
Miles cycled this week: 0

What is it about weddings and weight? For years there has been the constant pressure for brides to slim down to get into their dresses, now the same goes for grooms and their suits.

I am lucky in being reasonably slim. I'm not a rake but I am a sensible and safe weight. I used to be a bit heavier but between the breakdown of my marriage and the end of 2004 I lost 3 stone (that's 42 pounds and goodness knows how many kilos). Since the end of 2004 and during my recovery from depression I have put some of that back on, obviously more 'content'.

I set myself limits, the lightest I would allow myself to be (at one point I was at risk of blowing away in a strong breeze) and the heaviest I would become before dieting. I have reached the upper limit, so I'm trimming down a bit again.

H is considerably lighter than me, but she sets herself even tougher targets. So the household is now counting points for each meal.

I have given up lattes, stopped adding vanilla and quit my cake habit. I will give up pork pies when the fridge no longer contains any.

Thank goodness for the anti-depressants.

Chemical Imbalance

2005-06-11T18:51:00.000Z

H has smoked for 12-odd years, not heavily (perhaps 5 or 6 a day) but consistently. And then she stopped. It is amazing how similar her reaction to this is to my reaction to trying to reduce my anti-depressant intake. Within a week she is showing symptoms of depression, with the same illogical interpretations of her feelings that I had of mine.

Nicotine withdrawal makes you feel empty – hungry even if you don't really need to eat. This is not conducive to efforts to fit into a wedding dress, which does nothing for self-image, confidence and enthusiasm. Today has been a day of tears and anger.

So it was my chance to pay back a small amount of the debt I owe to her for her support when I had my breakdown. I talked her through her feelings, told her the reality that conflicted with her perception. And I made sure that she knew that I loved her.

After a session of this and some quiet reflection, she has made a very honest and sensible decision. Trying to quit smoking completely during a time of stress is not the right thing to do. Instead, she is going to cut down significantly. No more smoking during the day, no smoking in-front of anyone other than me. For the next fortnight I will 'allow' her 3 cigarettes per day, then reduce to 2.

We cycled to the shops and bought a packet of cigarettes. She feels more confident – she is going in the right direction and now more controlled.

I'm proud of her. I love her so much.

Changes

2005-06-08T10:46:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Black Americano
Baker Street, Gerry Rafferty
10mg Loratadine
40mg Fluoxetine

So many people around me are going through changes...

In the last few months, two colleagues have left the company to set up their own businesses, in completely unrelated fields. Another has just announced to me her intentions to do the same in a few weeks. Yet another is leaving in about two months to go and live in Cyprus, while one of the people who used to report to me is taking voluntary redundancy at the end of this month.

Both my elder sisters recently resigned from their jobs, one to focus on her house and child for a year or so, the other to take a break before continuing her career in a different direction.

And on Sunday, H had her last cigarette. She has smoked for the last 12 years or so (just don't tell her mum!) but she wants to quit before we marry. This is so that she doesn't have to sneak off during the wedding for a quick fix. More importantly, it is also so that after we marry we can start trying for children.

So far it certainly isn't easy. She has gone 'cold turkey' and last night the nicotine withdrawal seemed to peak. Tears, anger, hyperventilation, you name it. Hand holding and hot chocolate appeared to help.

I think she's worried that she might upset me with her mood swings – actually 'swing' is the wrong word, more 'plummet'. And, yes, it can be upsetting, but I bite my tongue because nothing she says or does is intended to hurt or upset me. It's the cigarettes, or absence of them, that does it. So she bottles it up and makes it worse.

Hopefully things will be better tonight, otherwise I will have to make her talk to me, or at least listen to me, so I can explain the above. At the end of the day, I love her and nothing is going to change that.

...as for me, well, I'd like to lose a couple of pounds so I've stopped adding vanilla to everything. I'll stay on the happy pills for now, thank you.

It's a slow day...

2005-06-07T11:41:00.000Z

...for news. At least here it is, so I resort to the unimaginative and post two links to things that have captured my imagination recently. Hopefully they will soon return it, unharmed.

My job is never this exciting.

My 'Drugs of choice' are never this extreme.

Never mind.

Rail Rage

2005-06-02T14:18:00.000Z

Ok, so I should have known it. No sooner do I complain about half-term drivers and look forward to a day on rail, than I come across half-term commuters.

On my way home from my training course last night, I had an opportunity to catch an earlier train. However, it meant covering a couple of tube interchanges very quickly. Normally not a problem.

The Underground network is full of useful little signs. Some say 'Keep Left' and some 'Keep Right'. Every escalator has a sign telling you to stand on the right so that people can walk past on the left. It appears that these rules do not apply to children, pushchairs and tourists.

I can understand the tourists, to an extent. English is not their first language, so houw can they read the signs? But surely the fact that everyone else is walking on the other side must give them a clue?

I missed one connection thanks to a boy doing nothing but stare at me as I bounded up the escalator towards him and his mother do the same. Fortunately, the recent increase in cycling activity must be helping me a little (20 miles last weekend) and I managed to run further and faster than I have in quite some time. I caught my train.

This blog appears to be turning into a series of rants. Must work on my anger management.

Drug Abuse

2005-06-01T12:22:00.000Z

Quarter Pounder with cheese
Fries
Chocolate shake

Training Course = Luncheon Vouchers = MacDonalds

Tenuous link between the last three posts, I know. I just thought you may like to see how I treat my body as a temple. Granted, in this temple the altar has been turned upside-down and a group of satanists are having an orgy in the pews, but it's a temple all the same.

Diet restarts tomorrow.

--
Sent from my Treo

Drugs of choice

2005-06-01T07:18:00.000Z

Chai Steamer
A almost sickly sweet concoction of steamed milk, vanilla, cinnamon, cardomom, cloves, aniseed and nutmeg. A momentary lapse away from caffeine, but what a rush.

Pain au chocolat
Would have preferred an almond croissant but beggars cannot be choosers.

0800, the train has arrived and I find myself sat on the concourse at Cannon Street. The world is rushing by, from train to tube, life too short.

There are four small tables here, silent souls getting their caffeine / sugar / nicoteine fix before another day at the office. The road warrior has finished his emails and this morning's presentation and sparks up before walking off. He is replaced by a married couple, almost certainly not married to each other.

I have been there and done that. I've been the laptop toting road warrior / geek, the destination obsessed commuter and the moment snatching adulterer.

Today I just watch, fascinated by life, wishing my Treo had a spell-checker.

--
Sent from my Treo

Drugs of habit

2005-06-01T05:15:00.000Z

40mg Fluoxetine
Got to keep taking those happy pills.

10mg Loratadine
Hayfever season approaches and the fumes in London today will no doubt set me off.

1000mg Vitamin C & 10mg Zinc
'All Day Defence' or something like that, just to keep me healthy.

Yakult
Friendly bacteria - are you not a victim of advertising yet?

Kellogs Special K Bar
Should keep me going for a while.

And of course, a nice cup of tea.

No, I don't rattle when I walk, although it does come close. And all those tablets must work, I've only had 3 months off sick since the start of December.

All that at 0510, and now I'm sat at the station waiting for the Cannon Street train. So far running 5 minutes late.

That's my way of starting the day.

--
Sent from my Treo

Road Rage

2005-05-31T17:29:00.000Z

I have the dubious pleasure of a rather long commute each day, almost 70 miles each way. In the morning the usually takes an hour and a half, in the evenings an hour. But not today.

The schools around here are on half-term holiday, so today the roads were full of people who didn't know what to do on motorways and cars that weren't up to the job. Breakdowns, panic braking, near and not-so-near misses.

Normally H and I take turns - I drive in the morning she sleeps, she drives home in the evening. Today she wasn't feeling to great and, as I'm not going into the office tomorrow, I thought it was only fair I did both trips. Lucky me.

Tomorrow I'm on a training course, so the joys of rail travel await.

In the meantime, if a black Alfa comes up behind you on the motorway, pull over when you finish overtaking.

Please.

--
Sent from my Treo

Danger Mode

2005-05-27T15:02:00.000Z

Thanks to various bits of software I am once again virus / spyware / adware free. Off goes safe mode.

So I can get back to work. Bum. The weather is so good out there, as my little Pixie friend is showing you. We should all be sent home.

--
Sent from my Treo

Safe Mode

2005-05-27T11:00:00.000Z

Oh joy. Laptop complaining about another virus. Now I'm sat watching a scan running in Safe Mode.

Wouldn't that be useful for humans? A reset switch and the option to boot into Safe Mode. Restart without a load of hang-ups and baggage.

I suspect I know where my reset switch is. However, I have yet to find my F8 key.

--
Sent from my Treo

Longevity

2005-05-25T14:14:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Amaretto Disaronno (large, with ice, please)
Vanilla Cigar
Last night's sunset
40mg Fluoxetine

An perhaps some dapoxetine? A new drug being tested by Johnson & Johnson to treat premature ejaculation. Apparently discovered because a side effect of SSRIs (of which fluoxetine, or Prozac is one) is delayed ejaculation.

Not a side effect I've noticed, probably a good thing. Fortunately a problem I've never had, in fact sometimes the opposite, and if it took longer I think H would be worn out!

Anyway, enough of that modesty.

The drugs of choice listed today were enjoyed last night. Although it wasn't exactly hot, it was a pleasant evening and just before nine I decided to sit out on the back step and chill out. The sky was almost clear, looking like a sheet of pale blue silk. As the sun dropped down towards the horizon, it reflected in the vapour trails of planes heading for Heathrow in the west, making them look like small razor cuts in the silk.

Even my metaphors should be kept away from sharp objects.

Affairs

2005-05-24T07:44:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
L.A. Song, Fischerspooner (#1)
Ginger Beer
40mg Fluoxetine

Men have affairs. With perhaps the exception of monks.

By which I do not mean that every man commits adultery. No, the passion with which we can embrace our hobbies can be almost as consuming and in some cases almost as expensive.

For years my mistress was my PC, an excuse to disappear off to another room and drown in usenet. Then there was the secret spending-spree on eBay that lasted for months while I bought the train set I always wanted as a child but could only afford now that I was 30, but couldn't do anything with it because I kept it hidden at the office. There was the off-roading, where it felt like my Land Rover was the other woman.

Ok, so perhaps they are just escapes or recreations. Not so bad, at least they weren't 'proper' affairs. No, they're just the start...

I have managed to rack up quite a history. Whether it be the unrequited love of a long-term platonic relationship, weeks of tongue-tangling with a girl years younger than me or the full on fling that was sexual, emotional and turned into love. I have shared emails and MSN conversations (including video) that blurred the line between erotic and downright pornographic, with strangers, friends and colleagues. Oh, I think I can chuck in a one-night stand somewhere along the line too. All this, and married at the time.

I am no longer married, there's a surprise. Although I will be again in just over 8 weeks. So, have I really changed? Will I now be faithful? I think so, I certainly feel different, I've grown up. I'm also in love, in an honest relationship.

Mind, there's always you, my darling blog. How does it feel, being my 'bit-on-the-side'?

Self Aware

2005-05-20T15:10:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
One Word, Kelly Osbourne (well, why not?)
Henri Winterman's Cafe Creme cigars (no class at all)
40mg Fluoxetine still

Well, what was all that about yesterday? Melodramatic or what?

Yesterday morning I had a doctor's appointment. It went ok-ish. My GP was on holiday so I saw someone else, who was one of the grumpiest doctors that I have met and she could well do with sharing my medication. However, I only wanted my prescription repeating as I have decided not to try weaning again until after the wedding.

Then to the pharmacist to collect another two month's supply of happy pills. No problems there.

And then to work. A slow, quiet and boring day. I had plenty of work to do but was going nowhere, slowly. I was supposed to have a teleconference at 1230 (postponed until 1600) then another at 1500 (other person didn't turn up). So, by the time 1600 rolled around I was grumpy.

The 1600 teleconf was to discuss plans for a trip some colleagues and I are taking to Madrid next week. As they talked about the various presentations and shared out the action items I slowly and quietly started to panic. As I calmly agreed to things on the phone, I distracted my real thoughts by making two shallow, 2cm cuts in my left forearm with my penknife.

I hung up and drove home, feeling sick, shivering and trying to drive and cry at the same time. I walked in the door and H was there, it didn't take her long to realise something was wrong. We talked, I sobbed. We agreed that I'm obviously not ready for the pressure of a trip away and all it entailed.

I didn't tell her about the cutting. I nearly did as I struggled to fall asleep last night, but I didn't want to scare her. When I showered this morning the cuts just looked like nasty scratches.

I told my manager I couldn't go to Madrid and I was honest insofar as I told her about the panic attack. Obviously, not the cutting bit.

I will keep that to myself. Oh, you can keep a secret, cannot you?

Self Harm

2005-05-19T15:33:00.000Z

What is more depressing?

The fact that I want to hurt myself...

...or...

The fact that all I have the guts to do are a couple of small scratches?

--
Sent from my SPV

Mundane to Sublime

2005-05-17T08:25:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Roast Beef
40mg Fluoxetine

I wonder how long I spend reading blogs? Longer than I spend writing this one. Not quite as long as I spend working, although thanks to multi-tasking, it could be close. And the trouble is, it's like a pyramid scheme. Every blogger has links to the blogs they read, so if you find their blog interesting you may like the same things. So you start reading one or two of them, and then follow their links.

So you add links to them and read them every day. The time blog reading increases but with this pyramid scheme you don't get a free MP3 player. So it's not all bad.

Latest addition to my daily list is a girl with a [dot] com which is my inspiration for this post. What makes someone wondering what to have for dinner interesting? In fact, how does something this mundane justify my not only reading it, but also posting a comment in response to it?

Granted, the first post I read certainly caught my eye and made me dig further. But I am male and human.

Being able to follow someone's stream of thought as it meanders through their writing. Enjoying their style, finding specks of gold in that stream. That's the sublime.

Ok, I think my metaphor is breaking down. In my head gold panning was working, but on the screen it looks like I'm heading for a golden shower.

I won't give up the day job. Not yet.

Challenge

2005-05-16T08:03:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Vanilla Black Americano (this is now leaning towards addiction)
The Today Programme, Radio 4
Paula Temple
40mg Fluoxetine

I fancy a challenge. Somewhat superfluous one would think – my life is overflowing with challenges at the moment. Not long started a new job, which requires learning some new skills, less than 10 weeks away from the wedding, a house full of DIY requirements, oh, and a desire to kick anti-depressants.

What do I need another challenge for?

Good thing I have H to ground me. Last week I had all but decided on my challenge. In the 10 weeks before the wedding I would cycle 850 miles. The virtual equivalent of cycling from Lands End to John o'Groats. I set up my sponsorship site and was ready to forward the URL to all my friends and colleagues, when I thought I'd just mention it to H.

She kindly pointed out three things:

1. She would support me.
2. She would not join me – but who can blame her?
3. Exactly when do I think I'm going to have time to cycle 85 miles per week, in between work, wedding plans, DIY and children visits.

Good point, that last one. We have to get up at 0510 each morning to drive to work, so we usually go to bed at about 2100. By the time we get home, eat, tidy up, prepare lunch for the next day, there isn't a lot of time left.

I'm not going to give up though, just postpone. I think I will set myself the same challenge but after the wedding. It will be good to have a goal and lots of exercise, to stop me 'coming down' after the honeymoon.

At least I have learned an important lesson in life. Talk to H before doing anything too silly, so that she can ground me. A few years ago I bought a fire engine on eBay. Yes, a real fire engine, a great big Dennis one. Later that day I mentioned to my (now ex-) wife how my colleagues and I had been discussing how 'cool' it would be to buy a fire engine. She pretty much thought it was a stupid idea, so I ended up withdrawing my bid and paying the seller the amount he lost between my bid and the next one down to keep him sweet.

I never did tell her that I had actually bought it for a few hours.

I still think it would have been cool.

Dreams

2005-05-09T11:06:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Black Americano with a Vanilla shot
Pork Pie
40mg Fluoxetine

One of the side effects of the fluoxetine appears to be an increase in dreams, or at least an increased awareness of dreaming.

I used to rarely be aware of dreaming, unless it was one of those dreams. And if it is one of those dreams, then I'd much rather remember them! However, most mornings I would wake up and I would have no idea if I'd had a dream or not. The whole REM sleep thing would suggest that I must have dreams, I just had no idea.

When I had untreated depression I was pretty similar, although my sleep was disturbed insomuch as I would lie awake thinking, staring at the ceiling, working myself into a more worried state and planning 'exit strategies'. So when I started taking the fluoxetine and I read that it could affect sleep patterns then I didn't mind. I would rather wake up ten times a night for a few minutes than lie awake for hours thinking self-harming thoughts.

It did become a drag, months passing with rarely a disturbance free night. A variety of herbal remedies did nothing, although a few glasses of wine seem to help (please, no comments about depression and alcohol not mixing). More recently it does seem to have improved, except during my attempt at weaning and the days after, as the dosage changes screwed things up.

However, the one thing that has been pretty constant since starting the fluoxetine is my increased awareness of dreaming. More often than not they are somewhat strange and involve people that I haven't seen for years in situations that are related to more recent events. I am usually angry in the dream or when waking, but then I guess depression is just 'anger without enthusiasm'.

On Saturday morning, the first words I said to H were 'I don't want goldfish'. I had had a dream in which we argued about fish. I was so concerned about it that I had to tell her immediately.

The world of dreams is a strange place indeed, but I have learned that honesty is vital in relationships.

I really don't want goldfish.

Cars

2005-05-06T09:44:00.000Z

I enjoy a love / hate relationship with cars.

I love them. I have owned quite a few different ones, from sensible little things to huge off-roaders, to very fast mid-size cars. And each of them have been driven to the limits and beyond. Whether it's extreme mud-plugging or extremely fast, if I own a car I expect it to live up to its purpose.

Which has a downside.

I hate them. I hate getting them serviced, insured and repaired. I drive a lot of hard miles so the maintenance is high. I hate the inconvenience of organising getting them in the garage.

I adore Land Rovers and Range Rovers, but I take them off-road and break them.

I adore my Alfa Romeo, but its Italian beauty is matched by its temperament. Fortunately it's a company car, but just because it's paid for by someone else doesn't make it any less hassle.

Case in point today - the catalytic converter in the Alfa has gone. I have to wait for the fleet company to approve its repair and repairer and then organise my life around it.

But she is my Alfa, she is beautiful and I love her.

I need to be very rich. I need to have the funds to maintain cars and to have enough so that even if one or two are in the garage, I've still got one or two to drive.

I need to dream on.

--
Sent from my Treo

Training Part 2

2005-05-04T12:21:00.000Z

I used to love commuting on the train. Well, I'm not sure I loved it at the time, but I have fond memories. The whole hustle and bustle atmosphere of it all.

It is best to approach it all in a 'not too bothered' frame of mind. The train will turn up late. On special occasions it is on time, or even early, and then that is a cause for joy. But there's no point getting worked up by the delays. Sit back and watch the wildlife. By which I mean the other passengers, not the sheep, cows and such that pepper the view out the window.

So two days in London is an opportunity to relive this. I haven't I commuted by train daily since 1991 and it has certainly changed...

1. It is much, much busier. Having to let a tube go because there wasn't enough space on it was almost unheard of. In the last two days I and my fellow passengers have done it 3 times.

2. I feel naked without an iPOD. Everyone has those white headphones. Let me rephrase that, the majority of the most attractive people do. Unfortunately that is not because iPODs make you attractive. Trust me, they don't. For while the trendy classes may be predisposed to owning them, so are the nerds.

3. Etiquette has changed. Early morning trains used to be silent. No chatter, no ringtones, no phone conversations. You always made room for passengers to get off first. The social graces are no longer.

4. The tube lines were cleaner - is there a fluffer shortage? (Fluffers clean tube tunnels at night, I believe they have existed longer than those in the porn industry. Perhaps porn pays better and they've all re-trained?)

5. Most of the trains are quieter and more comfortable, assuming you can get a seat.

6. It's much, much busier.

Another memory I have enjoyed reliving is a visit to Beatties in High Holborn. The shop is pretty much unchanged apart from it now being called Model Zone.

I used to get so excited on the rare trips to Beatties with my mother when I was a boy. I had a pretty large model railway and I used to spend hours drooling over magazines and catalogues. Unfortunately my model railway desires were far beyond my skill, patience and, above all, budget.

I probably have all those things now, I just don't have the time. I am not alone - wandering the store it was obvious that this industry is fuelled by the grey pound - men older than me, their children growing up, who now have enough time to relive their childhood.

Good thing too - model trains are no longer at toy prices, but then they are no longer of toy quality. Roll on retirement.

Training

2005-05-03T16:31:00.000Z

Yesterday was a Bank Holiday, so plenty of DIY.

Today is another kind of holiday - I'm on a training course. Oh if only that were true (the holiday part). Get up at the same time as usual (0510) to catch a train into London. Then have to spend most of the day listening and thinking - no desk skiving, no gossip and idle chat. Finished at 1700, almost an hour and a half later than I would normally leave the office. And then I get to battle more tubes and another train to meet H at a hotel near the office.

My training course today was on relational databases. Not that I haven't worked with them for 14 years. However, I was never formally trained on them. Well, I certainly didn't know any of the theory! Hopefully I can unlearn some bad habits too.

For some reason the trainer has to end every sentence with an abrupt 'hur' - I'm hoping not to pick up that particular habit. Apart from that, the only downside to the actual training is the room, it is far too hot. I came very close to falling asleep, at one point I'm sure my head nearly hit the desk.

The idea behind the training, as well as assisting me in my new Reporting role, is to boost my CV and therefore my confidence. While I don't intend to leave the company, one of my fears when I had my breakdown was that all my experience was so business focussed and so full of 'on-the-job' training that I was unemployable anywhere else. For peace of mind I want to be more marketable, even if I'm not on the market.

I will now try to catch forty-winks on the train. I suspect that the cacophony of buzzing iPODs (and their under-breath-singing wearers), ridiculous ringtones, newspaper rustling and coughing will prevent me from doing so.

Probably best, I'd only miss my stop.

--
Sent from my Treo

Bi-polar Blogging

2005-04-29T17:09:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
One Thing, Amerie
Snickers (come on, it's a Marathon really)
Tea
40mg Fluoxetine

No, I'm not bi-polar - I am either 'normal / happy' or 'down', I don't have an extreme opposite to the grumpy times.

However, the blog is taking such a turn. In the last week or so I've written about suicide and divorce (no comments about them both being blessed escapes, please) and today I will write about weddings.

Yes, for every bad thing over the last year or two, there have been an least as many ups. The best of which is new love.

In 12 weeks and 1 day's time H and will be getting married and the peaceful scene you see pictured above will be replaced with a marquee full of inebriated revellers.

Today we had a planning meeting with the venue managers and the caterer. As we sat there discussing the details I thought how fortunate I am to have H to love me, support me and live the rest of my life with me. If it wasn't for her life could be very different for me, if it hadn't finished.

I am a non-believer, but I reserve the right to use the appropriate phrases...

There, but for the grace of god...

--
Sent from my Treo

The Verdict

2005-04-27T13:28:00.000Z

So, what was the verdict of the meeting?

A success. The words 'fabulous' and 'fantastic' were used repeatedly.

No, it wasn't a huge project delivery, it was just a small report put together, but it was my biggest, most constructive output since returning to work nearly two months ago, so it means a lot.

Meeting

2005-04-27T12:32:00.000Z

I'm sat waiting for my first proper meeting since I returned to work to start.

Yes, I've had meetings with colleagues and the team, but this is my first meeting with a customer, showing them the fruits of my first labours with our new reporting tool.

This is the first time my work will be really judged, so it could be a big boost.

However, somebody has been playing with the dev server this morning and screwed up the data, so it may not be...

--
Sent from my Treo

Inspiration

2005-04-25T14:10:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Inertiatic ESP, The Mars Volta (De-Loused In The Comatorium)
Hot Chocolate
40mg Fluoxetine

On the side of my blog I have links to my favourite blogs produced by others. I visit them at least daily when I'm in the office, 'desk skiving' and they are my inspiration to encourage me to keep up my own writing.

Belle de jour - I started reading this not long after Belle started writing it and have followed her adventures ever since. I even bought the book. I love her writing style, plus the more erotic (or downright pornographic) entries certainly liven up the day. There have been claims that she is a fake, not a real callgirl, but I don't care. She (or even he) is an intelligent and entertaining writer, and that makes her pretty sexy in my book anyway. Since the book and critical acclaim she doesn't post very often, but I always check back just in case.

Commuterland reminds me of 'home'. I'm a Londoner originally and spent many hours on the tube, train and buses. Besides, I cannot help but identify – boots and tights do it for me too.

Going Underground reminds me not only of home but also of my first two proper jobs – I worked for London Underground in my much younger days. IT stuff in offices sadly, nothing exciting like being a driver or anything.

Route 79 is full of references to the parts of London I know and love. It's also written by another Jag, although his is his name while my JAG is my initials and nickname. It's his diary, his cookbook, his stage and his canvas. A jack of all trades, a master blogger.

Random Acts of Reality are the fascinating thoughts and actions of a paramedic.

A few minutes spent on these each day feeds my brain and fires my emotions. I hope you enjoy them too.

Rollercoaster

2005-04-22T16:30:00.000Z

Life with depression is like a rollercoaster. In fact, all life is like a rollercoaster. We just hope that when we get off we leave a good photo behind at the booth (either that or we find out the woman behind us was flashing, so we get keyrings made for all our friends).

If we take the view that a majority vote is acceptable, then yesterday was an excellent day. I had a day off with H and, after a short cycle in the morning, we decided to go to the zoo for her birthday treat. The place was full of babies, of most note being some incredibly cute baby gorillas.

We could have stood watching them for hours, being carried around in their mothers' hands, being breast-fed. The older children playing with their mothers, the silverback head of the family keeping an eye on everything. It was fascinating and beautiful. With such sad, big, brown eyes it is hard to describe gorillas as ever looking happy, but I got the impression that they were. I think evolution went too far and a simpler life would be better. Either that, or I was just born into the wrong species.

I went for my usual Thursday evening game of snooker with my father-in-law-to-be (part of my therapy – getting a new hobby and out of the house, and H's hair!). And then, for some reason that I do not know, I crashed down and came back not so much miserable, but pretty well grumpy.

This morning was no better, I felt very down and just could not motivate myself to do anything. I hit the snooze button on the alarm clock four times and on the fifth just switched it off. I had nothing urgent to do at work, no meetings I needed to be in, so I decided that rather than push myself, make myself even more tired and depressed, I needed a day off.

I had another lazy morning then, after lunch, decided to kick start my brain. An energetic 12.5 mile cycle around the hilly countryside in gorgeous sunshine. As the oxygen pumped through my brain I felt myself revived. I used to be able to cycle to work, sadly no longer an option, so it was good to get a real 'fix'.

Back up to 40mg, I think.

Celebrations

2005-04-20T15:01:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Birthday Cake
Champagne
Vietnamese food
30mg Fluoxetine per day (40mg & 20mg on alternate days)

Today is H's birthday.

She is the most wonderful, beautiful, caring woman in the world. She is funny, clever, sexy, sensitive, understanding and loving. She makes me laugh, she stops my tears and protects me from my fears. She gives me strength when I feel weak and gives me confidence when I am in doubt. She gives me purpose, she gives me direction.

Over the last year she has changed my life. In fact, she has saved it, because if it wasn't for her I don't think I would be here to tell the tale.

Cause and Effect

2005-04-20T08:40:00.000Z

So, after my post a few days ago – 'A year ago today...' it's no wonder I ended up on Prozac (or Fluoxetine as I'm prescribed to save the NHS money), is it? Oh, if only it were that simple. In fact, I thought I'd got that pretty well sorted in my head and, after some rather good counselling sessions, I confirmed that.

Hmm, I'm British (well, decidedly English to narrow it down further) and male. Two things that would normally encourage me to say 'poppycock' to the whole counselling, depression, talking about things arena. Perhaps not 'poppycock' exactly, but for the time being this blog can remain family-friendly so stronger words are not necessary. However, if you've never suffered or have never been close to someone suffering depression, then it's a very hard illness to understand. Having lived it myself, I have an altogether very different opinion of counselling and medication.

Anyway, that's another tangent to explore another day. Back on track, please.

The last couple of years have been somewhat exceptional and I guess it was just a matter of time before I had some sort of breakdown. In January 2003 my mother died and I feel that as she lay in her hospital bed becoming weaker, I became stronger. When she passed away I inherited her strength and determination and it was time for me to take some control of my life. Her death was not the cause of my depression, it was the catalyst for me to start putting right the things that were wrong in my life.

I met my ex-wife in 1990 and started work at my current employer in 1992. For over a decade I drifted, letting decisions be made for me and taking the path of least resistance. I was happy with each decision at the time but when my mother died I was forced to take stock. I realised that the way I behaved, including a series of flirtations and an affair, was not indicative of a happy marriage. I loved my children but my feelings for my wife were fading and so, in 2004, she became my ex-wife.

The positive side to 2004 was finding a new love. My girlfriend, partner, soon-to-be-wife, H. More on her another time but this time this is a love built on honesty and trust. She knows my history and my habits. I am honest with her just as, for the first time in my life, I started being honest with myself.

Just as my personal life had drifted, so had my career. I have always loved working for the company I do and have had great success there. A series of promotions, not so much applied for as directed into, reflected that. While I was working through the divorce I was promoted again, into a management position, with a large team supporting an unpopular and troublesome application.

The ups and downs of my personal life masked what was going on at work. When my Decree Absolute came through, and life started to settle, I realised that I was deeply unhappy in this new role. Despite feedback which proved otherwise, I felt I was failing. I enjoyed managing the team but did not enjoy the things I had to do as a manager. We have an appraisal scheme at this company that fundamentally goes against my personal values. How could I carry out this scheme with my team?

My work days became worse and worse. I was finding it harder to convince myself that I could snap out of what I was feeling. Having been in the same company for nearly 13 years I had little on my CV to suggest I could work anywhere else and with a large new mortgage and a (very) generous divorce settlement to pay, I felt trapped. If I couldn't give up my job but couldn't carry on with it, I started to think the only way out was suicide.

On November 30th 2004 I had my 'breakdown'. H found me hiding in a quiet corner at work, unable to return to my desk for fear of another telephone call or email request. She convinced me to talk to my manager, who told me to go home early and agreed I could work at home the next day. As H drove us home I sat in silence. At home, I went upstairs to change out of my work clothes and collapsed in tears, realising that for the previous 2 hours all I had thought of were different ways to kill myself.

Slowly I found the words to explain to H what I was thinking. It was my first step to recovery, admitting that I couldn't 'snap out of it' and telling someone else. My second step was H taking me to see the doctor the next day.

On December 1st I was diagnosed as suffering depression. I was signed-off work with 'stress' and started taking 20mg of Fluoxetine each day. I was starting my journey.

Tired

2005-04-18T13:46:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Black Americano
30mg Fluoxetine per day (40mg & 20mg on alternate days)

So, four days into the weaning process and how do I feel?

Tired. Knackered. Bloody exhausted.

Mind you, that could be completely unrelated to the change in medication. It could be more closely related to the energetic six mile bike ride yesterday morning, a day of wallpaper stripping and mowing the lawn. That, and getting up at 0510 this morning and spending 2 hours in a traffic jam.

Still, mustn't grumble. Worse things happen at sea.

A year ago today...

2005-04-17T20:33:00.000Z

Today was the first anniversary of the day I 'walked out' on my ex-wife. No point mincing words. Saying we 'broke-up' or 'separated' would suggest a joint action. And while I know there was a steady decline and all the signs of breakdown had been there for years, never mind months, to my ex-wife it was a sudden break.

I'm sure I could have handled things better, for years I kept my feelings bottled up and my life became a patchwork of lies, mostly small with one or two big ones in there for dramatic effect.

It was a sudden realisation that beneath all those lies was one truth, I no longer loved her. As soon as I realised that then it was too late to change and my heart was heading for someone new.

The toughest thing was walking out the front door and leaving behind my two children. No, 'leaving behind' doesn't quite fit. That suggests that they are no longer part of my life, but they most definitely are. Seeing my daughter cry (my son was too young to understand) was agony, like something plucking my heart from my chest. I love them both completely and make sure I see them whenever I can. That equates to daily phone calls, weekly meals out, fortnightly visits and fortnightly overnight stays. On those occasions that I see them then the rest of my life is suspended, they are the focus of all my attention and, in a strange way, I feel closer to them than ever before.

I was not a good husband but I was, and still am, a good father. Life has given me a second chance at the former, and in just under 14 weeks I will start being the best husband I can be, but that’s another entry to the blog, not this one.

Weaning

2005-04-14T11:26:00.000Z

Drugs of choice:
Hold Tight London, The Chemical Brothers (Push The Button)
Vanilla Latte
Vanilla cigars
(Vanilla anything)
40mg Fluoxetine per day

Went to see the doctor this morning. I think I have seen my GP more often over the last four months or so than in my whole life. There’s something strange about sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by coughing children and poorly pensioners, yet looking perfectly healthy yourself. No doubt they think there’s either something seriously wrong with me or that I’m a Medical Rep. God forbid.

Things went well though. I’ve spent long enough working in pharma to convince a GP to have a sensible conversation with me about contra-indications and the like, and he is now researching the interactions between anti-histamines and fluoxetine for me. Only one thing worse than suffering depression would be having hayfever and depression.

The main reason it went well is that I am now moving onto the weaning stage. I have been on fluoxetine (generic Prozac) since the 1st of December last year, 20mg at first then up to 40mg in January – post Christmas blues setting back my recovery. I will now be alternating between 20mg and 40mg each day for a while, dropping down to just 20mg if I feel ready or returning to 40mg if I don’t. The other benefit of having a seemingly educated conversation with your doctor is that he will trust you to self medicate.

So now I get to find out the truth. Am I happier, am I better? Has changing my job and my approach to life made me feel better, or is it just the drugs? I’m a little nervous but at the same time almost excited, that I may actually be “Getting Better”.

So this is the start then?

2005-04-13T09:52:00.000Z

A strange way to start a blog, a memory out of the blue. Yesterday’s posting was inspired by http://www.yourstation.co.uk, a site collecting stories about underground stations. A final kick-start to a blog that I created at least a month ago and have been meaning to start for even longer.

I have always had a desire to write, or perhaps a yearning to be read. My life is not overly exceptional, the last year or so has been a bit of a soap opera though. On December 1st 2004 I was diagnosed as suffering from depression. Thanks to counselling, medication, and a lot of love I am recovering – I have been back at work for a month, having been signed off for three months before that.

I don’t know if anyone will read this. I will try to resist the urge to add a hit counter, as I suspect the knowledge that each tick of it will be caused by me reading my own contributions will be somewhat demoralising. I will instead look forward to the day someone comments – not only does it mean someone is reading, it means they have been affected enough by the writing to respond.

So, sit back and enjoy. My past, present and future will slowly reveal itself on these pages.

Windswept of Finsbury Park

2005-04-12T13:39:00.000Z

I have many memories of Finsbury Park. It was part of my daily trek to school and back during many of my formative years. From the British Rail platforms down through the maze of tunnels past the underground lines and out into the bus station.

It was one late evening / early night in October 1987 when I was touched by nature. I had been out that evening on a school trip to the National Theatre (I was 15 at the time) and was stood on platform six, waiting for a train to take me on the last leg of my journey home. It was dark and quite chilly, especially when the wind blew, which it was doing rather a lot.

The BR platforms at Finsbury Park are elevated. At either end of the station the railway crosses a road bridge and, apart from some factory offices opposite, the station is the highest point and therefore exposed. I stood near the waiting room, opposite ‘Doris’, letting the wind blast through me. I could have easily gone inside to keep warm, but the energy in the air that night was intense.

In those childhood commuting days I relished being part of the weather, feeling the full force of nature. I would come home soaked through or frozen, not caring as my body, my mind and the world were in tune. I hated school and regularly went through periods of melancholy, a sign of things to come later in life. As I stood there I was not looking forward to school the next day. If I could just convince my mother that I was ill the next day, a Friday, then I could avoid going back until Monday.

As rubbish swirled across the platform and around my ankles, I could almost lean into the wind. How far could I lean without falling over? Could I lean over the tracks and be saved by the wind? Or would nature and fate let me drop beneath the wheels of the next train, fulfilling those depressed teen fantasies?

My mind jolted back to reality as the train pulled up alongside the platform. I climbed in and the hissing of the automatic doors closed out the whistling gale that was building up outside.

I planned my Friday sickness on the way home. The next morning I awoke to car alarms, power cuts and a closed railway. My fake illness was no longer required, it was the 16th of October and I was going nowhere...