Maybe, just maybe, I am finally coming out of this lengthy bout of depression. Let’s qualify that a little. My clinical depression is always there, it’s always been there and it always will be. Moods can change, sometimes in little longer than a heartbeat, sometimes for no obvious reason and other times because of a clearly definable trigger. I’ve been in this one for a long time and for the bulk of the time since it hit I have reduced my social life to virtually zero. And what was, for me, a disastrous family issue which I don’t feel I should mention at this time caused what felt like an endless slide to the bottom. This weekend, I tried to change all that.
On Saturday, I went to a football match between Bristol Manor Farm and Winchester and, having got past the anxiety of stepping out of my comfort zone, it was a lovely day out and one I shall, no doubt, repeat at some time in the future. And last night I went to a gig. Jordan Rakei.
Rakei’s music is defined by wikipedia as soul, jazz, trip hop and alternative R&B. I suppose that’s quite helpful since there are numerous influences to what Rakei does, but to my ears it’s just brilliant music, brilliantly played by his stellar band. The venue, the O2 Academy, is basically an old cinema with the seats and screen removed. Truly terrible but embarrassingly it’s currently one of Bristol’s top venues. We skipped the two support acts and spent the evening in the Gods, craning to see the musicians. Still, it’s the third time I have seen the man play and he gets better every time. But let’s not talk about him: let’s talk about me.
I’m feeling better, even if I appear to be carting around some long Covid symptoms, which is odd since I had a very mile dose in early February. I want to do more stuff and get out more and – is it a coincidence? – this is happening as the skies clear and it gets warmer?
I’m not bothering with anymore therapy because I fear that the small army of therapists and counsellors have been of little to no use and I have managed to struggle on thanks to my own efforts. The only way that might change will be if I completely lose my marbles (again) and get sectioned. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.
Update on my autism/ADHD/PTSD referral? There isn’t one so I am still looking at 2025, unless Boris Johnson gets re-elected in which case all bets, and all forms of NHS treatment, are off.
In summary, things are better today than they were a few weeks ago, or less shit, depending on your point of view. I’ll take that.
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