‘It sometimes has to get worse before it gets better’.

Yeah, it did. I went back to work a week after being sick from overdosing on my medication. I was still exhausted and dehydrated, but somehow managed to look like George Clooney (in that zombie film he’s yet to star in). I’d also ran out of money due to my enthusiasm for nonstop purchasing and hadn’t eaten anything but rice for a couple of days. I was finding it hard to sleep and was getting by on about four and a half hours a night, which is about three hours less than I normally need. So basically I was sitting in my chair at work going ‘Mngghghghhhhhh!’ while drooling into my lap.

There’s a special thing that happens in when you work in customer service. The most evil of all clients, the over-assertive bully seems to know that you’re at a low point and does their absolute best to make you cry/run away screaming/punch your monitor/eat staples (delete where applicable). This happened to me four weeks ago, on a Friday.

I was depressed, tired, hungry and not in any state to deal with abusive emails and phone calls but I got them all day. Our manager was away, another member of my team had created a problem with a receptionist at a law firm and had refused to deal with it. She was put through to my phone and she abused me for close to an hour. She was one of the most belligerent people I’ve ever encountered and rebutted every attempt I made to talk to her. She talked over the top of me, constantly driving the conversation in circles. Some people seem to enjoy upsetting others and she took great delight in talking down to me, twisting what I said and taunting me any time I threatened to disconnect the call. I tried to get a manager from a different department to take the call because it had driven me close to tears and he flatly refused. It ended eventually with the woman asking for my full name and saying she was going to take legal action against the company, as well as me personally.

When I hung up the phone I was furious. So I did what all incredibly strong masculine adults do and burst into tears. Acutely embarrassed by the snot bubbles and puffy eyes I could feel developing I told the girl at the next desk I needed to get outside and I scurried off. I spent half an hour calming myself down and went to return to my desk. On my way another member of my team pulled me aside and tried to talk to me about what had happened.

I told him about the lack of support I’d received, how I was stressed and tired and furious with my co-worker for creating the issue I had ended up being abused for. He tried to be helpful in his reply but lost something in the translation. If you’re ever dealing with someone who is still wiping tears off their face, don’t say ‘You’re the one that ends up looking bad in this situation because I hear management regard you as the ‘problem child’ of the team’.

All that said to me was ‘nobody cares that you’ve been wronged’. To hear that someone else is getting away with creating situations that put you under such stress and that it somehow ends up being viewed as your fault isn’t pleasant. Yes, I know I react badly. And if I could control my reactions I would. It’s humiliating to be an adult and not have control over yourself. I hate that people see these moments.

Our talk upset me to the point that I started to find it difficult breathe. I walked away and went downstairs. I found an an empty meeting room and collapsed in the corner. My head was filled with hurt and confusion – “I can’t work, I can’t go to shops, I can’t put sheets on my bed, I can’t pay my bills, I can’t use my phone, I can’t eat, I’m crazy, I’m worthless, I’m ugly, I don’t want to be here anymore, I wish I was dead, I should kill myself, I can’t do anything, this is getting worse…” – all those thoughts running over and over in my head as I sobbed and kept gasping for breath. I became dizzy and the room got fainter and the colour started draining out. A rep from the downstairs offices found me and called for help. He put his hand on my arm and stayed with me until one of the PA’s trained in first aid came to help. She helped me get my breathing under control and sat there with me while further help arrived.

About an two hours later I was back sitting in the same room with the manager of Human Resources, telling her everything that was going on. Work, life, health, the lot. I still couldn’t stop crying and was switching between normal range and and frequencies only dogs could hear when I talked. She just sat there, listening and respectfully asking all the right questions, showing nothing but care and compassion. Yes, work had let me down but now it was now helping me out of the hole I’d fallen into as a result.

She arranged for me to speak to a psychologist over the phone that afternoon, and we made a plan for the coming week where I would email her each morning to let her know I was okay, and if I needed to leave my desk I could send her a message and she would come and meet me to talk if I needed it. I felt so broken and was embarrassed by what had happened but she did her best to make me feel like things were going to be okay. I spent most of the weekend with friends, trying to push through the heaviness and returned to work hesitantly on Monday.

Since then work has been paying for ongoing visits with a psychologist and my manager is working with Human Resources to make sure I’m doing okay. Work is still often a struggle and I have needed to leave my desk to go outside and breathe but at least it’s all out there now. I don’t feel that much better yet but I feel supported, understood and most of all lucky to work at a place that cares enough for it’s employees to do all that they have for me.

I haven’t posted for a couple of weeks, so I’ll be catching up with a few posts over the next few days.

When I last wrote I was worried about bringing up the issues I was having with depression and agoraphobia at work. In my head sitting down with the GM of business and having a small chat about where I’m at just never seemed to go well.

“So anyway I’m kind of scared of supermarkets, not like, totally afraid the lettuce is going to HIT ME IN THE FACE WITHOUT WARNING OR ANYTHING HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA but nonetheless it’s scary and I’m down a lot and have suicidal thoughts and some days can barely move BUT DON’T WORRY! I can still do my job awesomely. If you don’t m ind me running around speaking in tongues every second Wednesday HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHA! Still got my sense of humour! SEE?!! HA! Can I have a raise and a promotion?”

At the same time I was not so much fighting another wave of pretty dark depression as being dunked repeatedly by it. I counted the minutes down through every working day, then drove home and sat in my room. After a particularly trying few days in the first week of September I got to a point where I just couldn’t seem to function anymore. I ended up in a place so dark and so low I couldn’t do anything but sit on my bed, staring out the window, not actively crying or feeling any emotion but with tears filling my eyes and streaming down my face.

One weekend night I got ready for bed, took my usual medication and then remembered I had forgotten an injection. I walked back downstairs and got it out of the fridge and injected my stomach with the prescribed measure. Then I did it again. And again. I became very angry and kept stabbing the needle into my gut over and over until I’d given myself 22 doses. I wasn’t thinking anything. I didn’t have the intention of harming myself or ending my life. I just did it and went back upstairs to bed. Looking back at it I can’t remember any discernible emotion aside from the initial anger followed by a numbness. I don’t think in truth I was even ‘present’.

At about 1am I woke up suddenly and was ill all over my bed. I then had three days of intense stomach spasming and couldn’t even hold down water. My body wouldn’t absorb anything and I spent any time I wasn’t being sick asleep in bed. It was painful, and incredibly frightening. I went to see two doctors who both gave me anti nausea injections. I didn’t tell either of them what I’d done but through the symptoms I described and asking me about my depression I think the second doctor had some concerns. I know how incredibly stupid it was not to talk to her about it but I just didn’t.

I had some friends that knew I’d had a hard week come to visit me that weekend and I told them I’d had an allergic reaction to some medication which wasn’t the entire story. I came so close to saying the words but I couldn’t. I just paused for a couple of moments then told a partial truth. Those friends read this blog and I want to say how sorry I am. Words surely can’t be enough but I know how you and so many other people are there for me. And that’s why as humiliating as this post could potentially be I have to post it.

I know that I’ve mentioned countless times that I sometimes have suicidal thoughts. They are never accompanied by any will to act, they are just a noise that I can’t always block out. I hate these thoughts and want them gone. I want to get better and I will. I’ve already made some strong progress since the week this all happened. I apologise again to anyone that is upset by reading this post. It’s not my intention. I only intend to be honest, to document my journey for myself and other sufferers of mental health issues as well as those that love and support them.

Please hang in there with me.

(I realize that my last post ended with my promise to finish some online grocery shopping. I tried. I got very close. I couldn’t press ‘send’ after completing everything so I gave up. Frustrating as hell but a little bit closer to unlocking that achievement. Ish. Hey, don’t judge me. I have compromising pictures of most of you.*)

Two weeks since my last post and I feel like I’ve come forward a lot in dealing with the heaviness that seemed to be dragging me down last month. As I’d mentioned previously the increased medication seems to have done the trick so a round of applause for my Doctor.

There’s a little bit emotional trampolining but for the most part I can do what seemed to be almost impossible three weeks ago. I can get out of bed in the morning. Admittedly the rest of my day can be a bit touch and go but I can tick off ‘Bed, Getting Out Of’ on my list of ‘Things I Would Like To Be Able To Do Most Of The Time’. Amusingly I even seem have become an overachiever in that apartment and wake up between 5 and 5.30am. Yes, even on weekends. And boy do I look amazing at that time in the morning. If I had a small air pump to restore my face to it’s regular shape I’d be set. As it is I just shake my head rapidly from side to side for a minute or so until most of my features slide back to where they’re supposed to be and I’m good to go.

Financially things are a lot easier since I found a second housemate. The second housemate also seems to have come from some kind of awesome housemate factory so there’s a win there too. Like most people in my situation I’ll be waiting a while to discuss my ongoing ‘mental interestingness’ with him. Not that I think he would be bothered in the slightest that I have a paranoid fear of a few simple things, (i.e 95% of the outside world). Rather it’s my own worry of ‘dumping’ my problems on someone I don’t know that well. How does one explain that although you’re prone to locking yourself away, seldom leave the house, never answer phones, can’t grocery shop and cry like a loon most days of the week yet assure them you’re awesome to be around and they could only love sharing with you more if you were a nudist Playboy bunny?

New housemate has even commented on how happy and laid back I seem to be and that I must be on ‘double prozac’. They heaven’t invented a scale yet that can measure the level of irony in that statement.

Emotionally it’s been a very ‘up and down’ week. After feeling better for most of the past fortnight I woke up in a depressed state on Thursday. Again, nothing seemed to trigger it. Damn you, Thursday.

A lot of people at work know I’m having a hard time but I’m really not too sure how to tackle these type of days. When my mood plummets now it seems to be even more intense. I spent the morning sitting at my desk barely able to think. My eyes kept filling with tears and it felt like one blink would launch a few litres of salt water toward the General Manager so I kept my head down and put on a cheerful voice for client calls. My mood just got lower and lower. Then I really scared myself.

When I went out to get lunch I stood at the side of the road for five minutes, watching cars drive past, thinking over and over about stepping out in front of one. I wondered what I was supposed to do to get through that moment. There were coworkers walking behind me, one even said ‘Hello’ and touched me on the arm. How do I explain to someone that this is happening? What could they even do about it?

That afternoon, in the space of ten minutes I had an order go wrong, a manager from another department hassle me about some work I was doing, three people asking me questions about another difficult order at the one time, an unpleasant email from a reseller and a very abusive and unsettling phone call from a client. I started hyperventilating and went and hid in the toilets. It’s a glamorous life.

The rest of the week I’ve been worrying about how to broach this at work or even who to approach. I’m slowly coming back out of the low mood and should hopefully be in a position to talk to someone next week without wailing like a hippo having a breach birth. But to be honest I don’t really care if I do. I just need some help at work and I’ll do what it takes to get it. Do you think they’d deck out a cubicle in the men’s for me? I’m thinking a furry wall and some whale sounds.

*That’s I lie. I don’t have pictures. But I do have some awesome crayon drawings.

It’s been a better week, with some good inroads being made into getting on top of this depressionny stuff. It appears that after two weeks the doubled dosage of Lexapro is doing it’s thing. A street parade may be in order. As long as I don’t have to go outside to watch it, of course. It’s been a lot easier to get up in the morning and the more morbid thoughts have pretty much disappeared. I’m still crying like a loon at the smallest things but if anything my eyeballs are getting an awesome workout and will no doubt be bench pressing their own weight any day now. Yes, yes, I’ll get pictures if that happens.

I’ve had the offer from many friends to help me get some progress going on my allergy/aversion to supermarkets and grocery shopping. Those playing along with depression at home will know that actually accepting this will take some work but it’s really nice knowing that the support is there when I need eleven cartons of deep fried Mars Bars toothpaste and a Batman comic some fresh vegetables.

Agoraphobia is an often misunderstood disorder, with the first thing most people think of being a fear of wide open spaces. For some of us that’s true, but in reality it’s more a fear of a situation creating a panic attack, whether that be in a social situation, a library, an elevator – basically anywhere you don’t feel ‘safe’. In my case two psychologists have presented similar diagnoses (aside from my own ‘a little bit wobbly and such’) with both of them agreeing my overall issue seems to be a fear of loss of control. Despite Missy Elliott recommending we do so on the dance floor with our butts bouncing it’s a big problem for me. Plus I look ridiculous in a sideways baseball cap. (Insert gang sign).

If I have been somewhere before it’s a lot easier for me to cope, so work seldom presents an issue and with friends I tend to stick to regular catch ups on the same day every week, where my very agreeable pals and I will eat at the same place and then watch incredibly appalling reality television shows (Hello, Project Runway. I love you most of all). If something spontaneous is suggested my entire body reacts and I will usually refuse it outright. If you’ve ever had a panic attack you’ll know why this is. If you haven’t, read on.

I offered to make dinner for my housemate. The brave, crazy fool agreed to this and an agreed craving for Tacos ensured that I had one simple mission that night – shopping for ingredients. Easy. (Lies!)

I decided our local IGA would have everything needed, so I walked there, canvas bag in hand. Taco reconnaissance was underway.

The usual hesitation in entering the store wasn’t as strong as previous attempts and although it was filled with people I kept the old breathing steady and focused on finding Taco Shells.

That was a mistake. As soon as I got to the back of the store everything seemed to get louder, brighter and smaller. Nothing triggered this, there was no accompanying had thought process. The panic was just there in the dairy cabinet, waiting to jump out from behind the Choc-o-ghurt.

When this happens to me my entire body starts to go weak. Except for my eyes, which suddenly become world champion criers (incredibly kind of them, I’m sure you’ll agree). I looked down so nobody could see my face and tried to force myself to continue, but my legs threatened to give way. I started to breathe heavily and it took all of my energy not to yell ‘WILL SOMEONE PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME!” My brain wigged out. I felt completely insane. All over a box of Taco shells and some sour cream. This isn’t life and death, it isn’t even Noodle Box. While this is happening I’m on the inside of myself, watching with a rational mind and feeling so scared that something I don’t understand has this much control over me.

I had to put down the basket and leave. No Taco for you! You come back, one year!

Once out the front the fear left me but the disappointment and the frustration took over so all I could do was walk around the corner and let the tears flow. I was so angry, and so very weary of struggling with the simplest of things.

In the end I texted one of my friends who very kindly came to meet me and went in to get everything I needed for that night’s meal. I was too scared to go in again with him in case I needed to run out again and accidentally knocked him over with my flailing muppet arms.

In the end Tacos were had, the housemate was none the wiser about my little adventure and I had finally managed to ask for and accept some help for the first time in a couple of years when it came to the whole supermarket shopping thing.

Now that the financial part of Project Seb is nearly in place and I seem to have a handle on my depression the next phase will be getting good food into the house on a weekly basis.

I’ve decided to not move forward with attempting to visit the stores physically – even with the kind assistance of friends I don’t think I could cope if anyone I knew saw me like that. It would make it ten times worse for me. Although most of my friends are a good foot shorter than me so there would be good comedy value in leading a snivelling giant out of the local greengrocer because a zucchini looked at him the wrong way….

This week is online grocery shopping week. My goal is to post a picture of me modelling a grocery item by Friday. Wish me luck.

I’m back at home now in the Haus of Seb after spending two weeks at a friend’s house to see if a change of scenery is going to make things a little less ‘Leonard Cohen album’ in my day to day life.

It’s been over a week now since I started the increased dose of antidepressants and I’m incredibly relieved to report that they are making a difference. I’m not talking fully choreographed handspring routines with backup dancers and glitter falling from the sky (I think I watched too much Glee. Damn.) but a noticeable difference.

The first few days I felt like I was living in a vat of clear jelly. To confirm that I wasn’t I tried eating some, and yes – it disappointingly turned out to be just the drugs.

I had some fantastic moments of feeling quite together which were interspersed with bursting into tears for no apparent reason, conveniently always in company, which was incredibly glamorous and added to my chirpy happy-go-lucky persona no end. Yes, I’m an ugly cryer. Red blotches? Check. Puffy eyes? Check. Voice that goes so high dogs within a 2km radius start barking? Check.

Spending a lot of time with friends really helped, and I’m incredibly lucky that my friends are so open to talking about what’s going on. And they offer more help and support that I could ever have dreamed of. Well, I did dream about it once, but the friend turned into a giant banana, bit me on the nose, sprouted wings and flew out the window screaming ‘Monica Lewinski!!”.

Monday brought the return to work where I had (Previously, on Project Seb…) had a rather embarrassing breakdown and needed to be sent home with a lollipop and a stuffed bunny. I got up at 4 a.m. because I couldn’t sleep. Walking to the train was incredibly uncomfortable, fighting not to turn around and at one point dry retching in someone’s front garden which no doubt scared the roses into not blooming come spring.

I cried on the train while everyone mercifully ignored me. Maybe they were trying to work out how I’d managed to support a drug habit while remaining so well dressed. Eventually I made it to work, an hour and a half early but there in body at least.

A few people asked if I was okay and a few more came to say hello, which helped immensely with the first few hours. Sometimes smiling and talking when it’s the last thing you feel like doing it gives you a precious few moments of relief from feeling completely ‘sandbagged’. The day went past quickly, and I went back to my friend’s house for a good few hours ‘friend therapy’ afterwards.

The week got better as it progressed, and the antidepressant started to really take effect on Friday, where I felt happy and motivated for the entire day. When these days come along it’s almost impossible not to get caught up in the feeling of being ‘released’. On these days you hope that it’s how things will be from now on.

I’m almost describing it like it’s a high, but it’s not. It’s simply that you can wake up and shower, get dressed, eat breakfast and go to work without fighting your thoughts every step of the way. Morbid ideas about taking your own life or wishing yourself out of existence aren’t there. You’re just present. And for that time, it’s enough.

No matter how long you’ve had depression or a mood disorder, you’re never quite prepared for this feeling being taken away from you. As an adult you know that your brain chemistry is incredibly complex and that maintaining a healthy perspective takes a long time and a large amount of work. But it doesn’t stop you feeling completely winded if you get a couple of ‘good’ days and then one morning you wake up and you realise things aren’t as they were the day before.

This unfortunately happened to me yesterday and has now worsened today. I’m feeling teary and filled with the all too familiar heaviness that comes with needing to spend the day in bed avoiding the world, so that’s what I’m doing. Hello pillows. It’s been a while. You look well.

Coupled with that is just the sheer frustration of being shown how I could be feeling and although I know it’s in no way constructive I can’t help but be angry. SebHulk Mad! SebHulk smash! (Does anyone know how to get green body makeup off a white blanket?)

There have been some positives this week and I know what to work towards. Financially things are looking to be a lot better and my new housemate officially moved in yesterday. I have a great job and an amazing amount support from coworkers, friends and the readers of this blog. I just wish I could have had a couple days more of respite. Yet I’m thankful to have had at least a day. And so, Project Seb continues.

Time for an update as it’s been quite a busy few days. More achievements have been unlocked, so any minute now I should receive the Laser Towel of Karbooliate or the Undeniable Broom of Mapthragador. If it’s the latter I hope they kept the receipt. It’s a soft bristle broom which is useless on paving.

So, as I last posted I was going to stay with a friend.  After four hours or so I managed to overcome my sudden fear of packing clothes in a suitcase and made my way over to her house for a stay of execution a week or so.  A change being as good as the original 12″ remix of Madonna’s ‘Holiday’ in gatefold picture sleeve or whatever it is they say.

I’ve spent a lot of time reading and watching TV, playing with her two beautiful dogs and drinking green tea, which must be what satan’s sperm tastes like but is apparently full of antioxocubes so who am I to deny it a chance to work it’s retch inducing magic?

Since I have been there, something very interesting has happened.  Well interesting to me, feel free to doze off at your own convenience should you feel the need.  You may have read in previous posts that I had a lot of trouble with a couple of things, like putting sheets on my bed or having a shower.  At my friend’s house, this is impossible not to do.  I don’t even think about it, I’m doing these things as I always used to before my brain was filled with ridiculousness.  This was a big step forward but to my disappointment my mood hasn’t improved.  If anything it’s gotten worse.  I’m crying for no reason about three times a day now (even while writing this, and I don’t think the keyboard’s waterproof) and the not wanting to be here has increased.  Yet something must be changing because I can shower, and I seem to be an all powerful conquerer of haberdashery.   I wonder if that’s enough for now?  ”Yes, I know I’m not wearing pants and haven’t left the house for eight years but just smell how delightfully scented and moisturised I am………. officer..”

I had a few calls to make yesterday on that most evil of all communicative devices, the telephone. There was the usual two hour process of now/not right now, but I did finally make one of the calls.  Luck would have it that it was the right call to make – I rang about an appointment to see my Doctor and review my medications because something clearly isn’t working, despite my newfound vanilla fresh scent.  Turns out someone had just called and cancelled so I could get in to see her in half an hour.  Take that, procrastination.

I did have a very strange crying-for-no-reason moment in the waiting room which had a few people looking strangely at me (“Mummy, why is the giant man trying to drown us?”) but I managed to hide behind the November 1983 issue of Woman’s Weekly until I got in to see the Doc.

I’m now on double the strength of antidepressant (I love that my hands are now unicorn hooves as I type this from rainbow land) which I have to monitor for any differences over the next month, failing that I’ll just have to go to an all you can eat buffet onto another type.  For those playing medication bingo at home, I was taking 20mg of Lexapro, and am now taking 40mg.  Oh and 2.5l of Pepsi Max.  One of those is prescribed, can’t remember which.  Still counts if you mark it on your card.  No winners yet? Eyes down, ladies and gents.

The other achievement I unlocked was the transfer of the balances on my three hideously expensive credit cards onto one with 2.9% for 18 months, so coupled with the moving in of new housemate/financial saviour next Saturday I should be able to slowly get my head above water. Or at least my eyebrows.  As good friends mentioned to me last night, although I’m not managing to do everything I’d like at least I’ve gotten some major things underway.  And they’re right.  You know what?  This Project Seb stuff might be alright after all.  Thanks to both of them and to all the people who’ve contacted me offering advice and support for helping me realise that. Now I have to go before I really do some damage to this keyboard.

This website was a secret (as secret as one can be on the interwebs) for quite a while, and this weekend I decided to throw caution to my wind and tell people about it. There were some pretty good reasons to do this. These may be some of them.

1) I have some of the most amazing, long suffering friends who I’m hoping can learn a little more about why I do the things I do. Sure it doesn’t exactly make up for the unreturned phone calls, isolating myself and the Dannii Minogue mixtapes as birthday presents (that last one may be unrelated) but it’s a start.

2) I thought there might be some more people out there like me and if some of the amazing responses I’ve had so far are an indication there’s quite a few of us. And knowing that you’re not the only one who can eat their own body weight in franchise chicken while tearfully watching America’s Next Top Model from underneath your bed tends to make one feel a little better. Or can at least provide some helpful tips for getting chicken grease out of the carpet.

3) I’ve got to the point where I feel I’ve exhausted all possibilities of conquering this on my own (I’ve tried eating, avoidance, eating, using food, eating, medication, eating, counselling, avoidance and eating, eating and crying and the when all else failed, the occasional light snack). So why not ask for the comments and support of others, friends and strangers alike? I’m happy to share and am really good at filling out restraining orders.

4) I’m a serial avoider. This blog makes me accountable. Which no doubt will start to feel awesome any day now. Surely will. Yup. Let the good times of being accountable ROLL. Um…. I’m off to make a light snack. Back soon.

Sorry about that. Do I have tomato in my eyebrow?

Now that I’ve conquered most of my financial issues I’m looking at trying to break out of this miserable sadnessosity (yes, I’m sure it’s almost a word) because as mentioned in previous posts it’s getting worserer (just go with it).

Last week a close friend suggest using the last week of my three week mega holiday (TM) to try a change of routine. We both agreed that whatever I’m doing at the moment isn’t working so perhaps a clean break from all of it will stop me shuffling about the house in track pants with bung elastic and a ripped Superman t-shirt with BBQ sauce on it. Her suggestion was to pack a suitcase and come and stay at her house for a couple of weeks. The suggestion filled me with fear, wee and general trembling so I thought I should probably do it. It’s not as if listening to my instincts is getting me any closer to the front door so why not give it a try?

So at the moment I’m halfway through packing and am getting together a bag of books I’d like to read, as if I was going to a resort for a break instead of fifteen minutes up the road.

I also promised to finally make an appointment to see my Doctor about changing my medications. The feeling of hopelessness is almost constant now, and it’s really getting on my tits. You know, the ones I grew from eating all that pizza in 2004.

Previously I’d get a little down a couple of times a month. Then the feeling became a lot stronger and it was there a few days a week, then most days, then every day. One thing I could rely on was that it would lift slightly at work or if I could get it together enough to spend times with friends. Sadly I noticed it creeping in while I was Djing and while I was with people. This past week it’s creeping in to the gaps in normal conversation, filling the spaces with heaviness even though I might have just laughed at something someone said. To try and counter this I’m setting some more goals tonight to work towards – hopefully some simple achievements can make a difference.

Do you hear that, light snacks? Your days are numbered!

I’ve made more progress with my goal of getting my financial situation under control despite the depression-esque-ness refusing to budge.   I have also made a couple of steps forward in the ‘taking care of oneself’ stakes.  And I am now activating ‘bragging’ sequence.

Achievements unlocked this week:

1) Placing housemate ad. I can’t understand why I was putting it off for so long, when the time came it only took me four hours and a panic attack.  Nothing to it!

2) Finding housemate.  And he appears to have no serial killer tendencies.  And he pays real money.  I bit it to make sure it was real.  He laughed nervously.

3) Cooking meals .  Some of them were awesome.  A couple weren’t.  Did you know that if you cook chicken breast long enough it turns into leather?

Stir Fry - Vegetarian Goodness!

4) Limited amounts of grocery shopping.  Some online delivery, some actual visitations to grocery stores.  Followed by hyperventilation but still achieved.

5) Bed making.  Sleeping on sheets, quite pleasant. Who would have thunk?

6) Replacing my work shoes. Yes, I have so many issues that we’ve lost count.  Well, one of them was replacing a pair of appallingly damaged shoes.  Even though they were both falling apart, hurt my feet like hell and let in water I couldn’t make my way to a shoe store to replace them.  One excuse was that I never seemed to have the money to replace them.  Another excuse was that it was a day ending in ‘y’ so I couldn’t go.   So I walked around in shoes with the soles ripping off for four months.  Sorry, feet.

Shoe of DOOOOOOM!

I also took some time out to visit my parents.  We’d been talking a lot about how I’d been feeling but I have yet to explain the extent of the troubles I’m having. I’m making more of an effort to catch up with them because it usually makes me feel better, for a while at least.  They’re awesome people to spend time with.

One of the things that has been quite hard to accept with the efforts I’ve been making is that it won’t always change the way I’m feeling, or indeed make life any easier at all.   Sure, being able to shop for groceries is great and I’m really enjoying trying not to put myself in hospital with salmonella cooking the fact that it takes so much buildup, it’s so hellishly uncomfortable when I’m doing it and then I sit in the car with my heart pounding out New Order’s ‘Blue Monday’ for ten minutes afterwards makes it more unpleasant than the feeling of failure that accompanies not being able to do it at all.

Yesterday I made a concerted effort to do things away from the house (yes, I actually do leave it!!) that I used to really enjoy.  Try to conceal your shock and awe at one of these things being eating – I took myself out to Nandos but I was incredibly anxious the whole time I was there.  I enjoyed the meal but had my emotional dial set to ‘FLEE!!’ the whole time which plays hell on one’s ability to use a knife and fork without attracting attention from the people at the next table as they rattle against the plate. *CLANK* NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE ALONG!… Most odd was that I was too scared to open the bottle of Coke Zero I ordered with the meal.  I have no idea why.  Coke Zero is quite quiet and unassuming and has never, as far as I’m aware, had run ins with the law nor has a history of Portuguese Chicken related violence.  But I couldn’t do it.  This is a new one to add to the list. Yay brain, you’re awesome.

Lunch done, I went shopping.  I bought some new pillows, some sale DVD’s and new work shoes.  Sounds easy?  Yes, it does – and it was, the fourth time I walked back into the store and picked up the items I had already and tried to carry to the counter three times before.  This is something I’ve had to do for a few years and more than once it’s attracted attention from security in the store – and the security peeps were not attractive in the slightest.  So much for K-Mart fantasies.  I’ll pick up what I want and I’ll walk around with it for a half hour. I’ll get overwhelmed (TM) and put it back and walk out.  Once outside I’ll calm down and try again.  Most disappointing is that even though I’ve entered and re-entered stores dozens of times I’ve yet to win a ‘Huzzah!! One Millionth Customer’ door prize.  What a rort.

Once I had all my purchases locked away in my car, I took myself to the movies.  Again the anxiety was high but once I was sitting down and the soldiers were being parachuted onto an alien planet (Predators!)  I was fine. Plus there was popcorn which due to it’s gluten content I’m not supposed to eat but it was SO GOOD.

To finish off the day I got my favourite takeaway and ate it in front of the TV with the heater blazing.  A perfect evening.

Then I got into bed and for no reason found myself teary and sad.  This is what I mean by nothing changing.  I can achieve all of that and still feel just as bad.  It’s quite demotivating to know that to function like a normal person requires so much energy, stress and effort and at the end of the day things are…. not good.

Patience should be the key here, and there’s no way I’m going to stop trying, but WOW.  This is not like I thought it would be.

Having a break from work for the past ten days has certainly removed some of the pressure I was feeling, and although the sadness doesn’t seem to be shifting I think I’ve made some reasonable progress on ‘Project Seb’.

First of all I decided to out myself properly on Facebook.  No, not as a card carrying flaming homosexual Minogue enthusiast because you can get that from glancing at my photos.   Or seeing me walk.  Or talk.  Or breathe.  No, I outed myself as someone that’s struggling with my mental health.  Since taking a break from DJing every weekend I’d been receiving messages from people hearing that I was unwell, asking if I was okay, if I would be back soon and could please play the new Lady GaGa and put their name on the door.

So I posted this:

“Thanks to all that have messaged me. Peeps close to me know I’ve been having some issues with health & depression for a while now so it’s been really important to step back from Clubland and work on getting better. If you know anyone who is going battling depression, just remind them that they’re loved. It makes the biggest difference and I’m lucky enough to have wonderful friends who do exactly that. I hope to see you soon.”

I had some incredibly touching responses from people ranging from close friends to people who only knew me as the DJ at a venue they went to.  It was embarrassing as well.  Nobody likes to admit they aren’t coping with something for fear of judgement but I’ve got to the point where it’s becoming so obvious to people that something is going on – crying during a DJ set (“Wow, ‘Single Ladies’ really moves you, doesn’t it”) or having a panic attack at work and having to be sent home (“It’s just…ah….. we don’t think we could lift you if you passed out”).

And it’s actually been a positive thing.  I had a coworker come and sit with me at my desk, grab my hand and and offer support.  It was so genuine and heartfelt and helped crack through some of the haze.  We talked, she asked some questions, she said some incredibly kind things and pretended not to notice when my eyeballs threatened to flood the second floor and my voice went up five octaves..  A few others contacted me with their own stories and offered support.  The GM and his partner asked me to dinner at their house and reaffirmed my value to both of them and the company I work for. And got me a bit drunk, which was also a good way to let off some steam.

Two friends brought flowers and groceries and left them at my door, just at the time I was running out of options for trying to make eating rice interesting.  They saved me from cayenne pepper and basil flakes with basmati and for that I will be forever grateful.  I would offer them my firstborn if we all didn’t know that wasn’t really going to be happening in the next EVER.

And the dreaded housemate ad was written and posted. Sure there was a freakout and much having to go and lie down for a few hours but I did unlock that achievement.  And another stage of my financial plan (read : Project stop wearing shoes to work that have been falling apart for three months) was completed as I was approved for a new credit card that allows me to roll over my other one okay two alright three credit cards at 2.8% interest for 18 months.

More on both of those achievements tomorrow but for now it seems that I’m making some headway.  The shame is that it’s not really lifting the cloud o’ depression that has me in it’s grasp, but…. baby steps.  Even though at 6ft 5″ and 150kgs baby steps would be more comedic than helpful should I really think about it.

Okay, time for some honesty here.  This post is going to be pretty much devoid of my usual comedy stylings.  Unless of course it’s unintentional, in which case feel free to laugh accordingly.  Today’s subject matter is darker than usual because the um… subject matter is ah… darker than usual.  I need to get this down because I’ve never written while I still feel like this, I always wait until it’s passed so I can put a funny spin on things with added benefit of hindsight, eighties music and carbohydrates.

It’s just that my depression is worse.  And it’s getting harder to cope with, and I want to give people an insight into it.

It’s been getting stronger for a couple of months now. This past month it’s been so strong in the mornings that it’s been all I can do to get out of bed. Most mornings it’s taken me close to two hours to get dressed.  I haven’t been able to shower more than once or twice. The mechanics of it just aren’t there. Most mornings I just sit on the edge of my bed, staring in to space and willing myself to lift my leg enough to put a sock on – sometimes my eyes fill with tears, most times I  feel completely numb.

Once I make my way downstairs to the car, I drive in to work and my head feels so heavy. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach and it’s hard to breathe.

I hate to admit this but each morning I have to correct my course while driving as my thoughts will me to turn the steering wheel into oncoming traffic, or into the concrete wall of the tunnel, things have seemed so hopeless.  There’s nothing to live for.

When I’m at work you would never guess how I’m feeling inside.  I keep myself busy and smile and chat with my coworkers and that seems to be enough to get me through the day.  The sadness is there but I’m distracted from it.  The feeling becomes stronger as I’m leaving the office and by the time I get to my car to drive home I’m all but overwhelmed again.

I’ve given up my weekend job as a DJ, I’m getting a lot more sleep and I’m spending a lot more time with friends but it seems to have made things worse.  It’s even become difficult to hide the feelings when I’m with people, something I’ve sadly been all too good at in the past.

I’ve been sleeping on a bare mattress again.  I wash my clothes but don’t hang them up. There’s a pile of clean clothes on top of the washing machine and I can’t bring myself to move them to my bedroom. My normal need for cleanliness and organisation has fallen by the wayside.  There’s rubbish strewn throughout the house and if I start to tidy up the most I can manage is fifteen minutes or so before I become completely overwhelmed.  I normally shave my head twice a week and shave my face every couple of days but I just can’t do it.  The only self care I can manage is to compulsively wash my hands and brush my teeth, almost as if that makes up for not showering.

The real kicker is I don’t know why this is happening.  I know that I’m having problems with money (I’ve literally been living on rice and meals bought or cooked by friends for the past nine days) but how does that manifest as not taking care of myself or my environment?  It’s a complete mystery to me, and is frustrating me to the point of tears most days.

Worse still is the isolation.  I have dear friends that I need to see, people that I know can help me with this situation or have been there for me when things have been bad for me before.  When they call I don’t answer.  If they email me I don’t reply.  The closer the friend, the harder it is.   And it infuriates me.  I wish I could explain it, or had some reasoning behind it so that I could get past it but I’m drawing a blank.

The past couple of days since my work meltdown have been the worst.  My head is filled with thoughts of just walking over to the pantry, grabbing all the medications I have and downing every single tablet.  Game over.  It’s a really scary thought, I know.  But I don’t want to do that.  It’s the opposite of how I want to deal with this, yet the thought plays over and over in my mind, for hours at a time.  I won’t let it beat me but I don’t understand why the thought is constantly in my head when it’s so abhorrent to me.

From past experience with this, I know to sleep as much as I can and to let tears the tears flow when they scome.  But this time it’s so strong that I’m going to go back to my doctor to get some help.  I’d like to see if we can switch some of my medications.  We decided to up one of them a month ago but it’s either done nothing or made things worse.

If you read this and you know me (or even if you don’t) , I don’t want you to worry about me.  I just want you toknow.  It’s how you can really help me.  Just read.  I started this project so I could make my life better.  If it has to get worse to do that it’s a challenge I’m ready to face and I know that’s why these feelings are so….incorrect.