A couple of weeks back I wrote about making an appointment to see the doctor about depression, lack of motivation, lack of drive etc. etc. I didn’t – and still don’t – want to ask for help, but I know that in my current state I have/had to.

Yesterday was the day of the appointment. 7am and I’m at the doctors. That’s never going to be the start of a good day…

Anyway, I talked through some of the stuff with the GP – who’s extremely wet and wanky, but means well. Better than being completely useless I suppose. But you never really get the impression he could give much of a damn one way or t’other. I suppose that’s one of the risks of being a GP though.

And now I’ve got a prescription for Citalopram, an SSRI anti-depressant. I’m going to take them, and see how things go.

I’m not happy about being on these pills, but I’m at the point where I know that I need something to break the cycle/spiral I’ve got into. This is the first step in that process. Well technically it’s the third step, I suppose- the first one was acknowledging I’m in that cycle at all, and the second was doing something about it by going to the GP.

I don’t like the thought of being reliant on pills or medication – I’m crap at even taking painkillers unless I really need them.

Also I can’t help but wonder what I’ll be like on anti-depressants. I’ve been living with depression for such a long time now, I wonder what changes there’ll be if it’s not around.  It’ll be interesting to find out, anyway.

The bowling night on Thursday was actually quite  a lot of fun – helped by the fact our team won, but still, quite a laugh all round. I know, you lot never expected me to say something like that about a work-based social event. Truth be told, neither did I.

I do find bowling fascinating though. Any time I go, there’s always at least one lane of people with absolutely no fucking clue whatsoever about throwing a ball down the lane. Pretty much all the time, they’re in the lane next to one with at least one decent person playing – by which I mean someone who knows what they’re doing, and scores over about 125 or so in a game. Not perfect, but a damn sight better than the people next to them.

And yet those people with no clue never (and I do mean bloody never) take a look at the person next to them, and see if they can figure what they’re doing wrong/differently. It’s bizarre.

When I first went to bowling – admittedly, many moons ago now – I did exactly that. I watched some decent people and figured out most of it from there. It’s not difficult, just watch and learn. As a result, I’m not bad now, (I tend to average around 110 – 120 per game) pretty consistent in how I bowl, and if I went more regularly I’d probably be a lot better. (Which might be something to think about doing, I don’t know yet) There were other people on Thursday a lot better than me – and others a lot worse. So I’m probably somewhere in the midle.

But even there, the people who were really bad at it didn’t seem to want to figure out anything about how to improve it.

For me, I always want to learn, want to improve on what I’m doing if/when there’s someone around who’s far better at [activity X] than I am. Maybe that’s where I differ with a lot of people, I don’t know.

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

“For the Fallen” by Laurence Binyon, originally published in The Times on 21 September 1914, and the source of the more common “Ode to Remembrance”

As regular readers know, today is the start of the new ‘proper’ job.

As per usual on these things, I’ve no idea whether I’ll be able to write anything here during the day or not. Time will tell on this, as with most things.  I’m given to understand that the first morning is going to be a combination of “Death by Powerpoint” and “Insanity by Paperwork”, so that should be a fun introduction to the place.

I still have my reservations about the entire thing, as my experiences with permanent roles have never been exactly positive. In fact, the one I started roughly this time last year (To be precise, a week tomorrow) was one of the most unremittingly negative experiences of recent years, for a number of reasons that I’ve never got round to writing about. Maybe one day.

So for now, I’m looking at it as being a six-month contract. That gets me through to March/April next year, and I’ll see how it goes. I think that’s the best way for me to handle it at the moment – six month chunks I can deal with, “permanent” still brings me out in the shivers. (And that’s a whole other post too, I know)

But for now, well, once more unto the breech, and all that jazz.

Now here’s something I don’t do often – respond in a proper piece to a comment on another piece.

In this case, in yesterday’s “Changing Plans” post, Andy commented…

I have to say, following your blog & Twitter, that your contracting seems like a monumental effort/nightmare/arsepain. There’s a lot to be said for a regular job, not least: a) a bit of security (so you’re not always worrying about what next week brings) and b) the luxury of a bit of time to think and plan your next big move (i.e. away from what you’re currently doing).

You don’t strike me as someone who’d be content/comfortable with a regular job, no matter how short term – but it seems to me like you’re in a cycle that you need/want to get out of as it’s causing you grief.

And I couldn’t agree more, to be honest. Maybe I do need to bite the bullet and look at a “proper job”. I don’t know. This year has been utter shit when it comes to contracts, and work in general. In fact I’d go so far as to say it’s been the worst work year I’ve had.

You’re right, there is a lot to be said for that “proper job”. I get that totally. It just doesn’t (for whatever reason) chime with me at all. I don’t know why – and I’ve looked into it a lot – but it just doesn’t. Maybe I’ve just never had a positive experience of that regular job, but maybe my mindset won’t let me have a positive experience of that regular job. Either way, I’ve never been happy in a regular job.

I’m not happy with what I’m currently doing. I’m good at it, but I’m no longer happy with it. However, I know I need to keep on doing it (whether as contracts or regular work) until I get things sorted for doing Something Else. That doesn’t help. Getting fucked over and treated like crap also doesn’t help. (Although in my experience that’s something that happens regardless of a job being proper or not)

This week, I also feel like crap anyway. I’ve picked up a cold from a friend (who will be receiving a snot-filled slap when I next see him) and honestly, I’d rather be at home.

The change of plans, when everything was ready and in place, has added to that, and knocked my confidence a bit too. That’s down to being a control-freak, and not liking it when I get stuffed over with nothing I can do about it.

I’ve got three or four ideas about what I want to do instead of this, which have been chatted about a few times with friends over the last couple of days. It’ll take time – unless I get incredibly lucky – to sort them out and decide what to do, as well as to implement the ideas, make the changes, and get those things off the ground.

It’ll take time – but the last week has illustrated pretty perfectly why I need to do it, and make the changes. And if nothing else, it should make for some more fun on D4D.

One of the big issues for me when it comes to my weight is my own perception of it – or the lack thereof, I’m not sure which.

Firstly, there’s the simple fact that I’m pretty big anyway, although I’m not going to use (and never have used) the excuse of being “big-boned” for being the weight I am. However, one can’t escape the simple fact that (as I’ve said before) I’m still 6’3″(ish) tall, and have a chest measurement that’s at least 50″ on it’s own. And that’s a chest measurement, not a belly one – so we’re talking structure, not flab. All told, my body can take a fair bit of weight without looking like I’m fat.

Second, my mum (in particular) is by no means slim – that’s not meant nastily, simply a statement of fact – which has done something to my perceptions of size, in that “normal” in my head most definitely isn’t Size Ten, or whatever.

The third thing is that on the rare occasions I see a TV programme like “Biggest Loser” or whatever, I try to compare my own weight with that of the competitors. And that’s a problem – because I simply don’t have the rolls of fat that appear on them, even when those people are spposedly lighter than the just-over-300pounds that I am currently. (And yes, I know that I’m probably taller than they are too, etc. etc.)

I know I’m overweight, I know I need to lose some – and I’m working on it, of which more later in the week – but somewhere along the line I need to believe it as well as know it, if that makes any sense…