We have flown to England for the month of May to travel on historic highways and by-ways, staying mostly in deepest rural Wiltshire. Days out in London, Bath, Bournemouth, Southampton, Salisbury and Poole have reminded me how exceptional this small birth-country of mine is. Time is rushing by and there is still so much to revisit but there will be a next time... You never really notice what is right beneath your nose until it is gone. How does eleven hundred photos so far sound? (No I won't be putting them all on "Through the Lens!")
15 May 2007
01 May 2007
During my adult life I have lived with depression to varying degrees. I am frustrated at failing to fix all my anxieties by myself.
For the past twelve months I have steadily opened my fears and worries to my
soulmate. I had even begun to believe I might banish the dark depressive clouds
and maintain a happy head. Just when I begin to feel level and calm a small
worm creeps under my skin. A previously tranquil day becomes hell on earth
inside my head.
If I am angry or sad or frustrated I want to try to say what is on my mind but my words appear condescending and sulky. So I retreat into my head and stay quiet all day harbouring resentment that the cause of my irritable mood ought to be obvious but isn’t.
No one loved me as a child. I was never given praise or made to feel valuable. With that background I try too hard to be honest and compassionate so I always sound reproachful and false. I am incapable of expressing my emotions.
I deserve to be the hated person that I am.
I realise I am unlovable.
I believe myself to be valueless.
I deserve ill fortune.
Starting thirty years ago my wife and I had simple sex but we never made love. Twenty years ago my lover and I had lustful sex but still we never made love.
Now I make love but I am uncomfortable as the initiator. Rejection would ruin my already pitiable self-esteem. How could anyone wish to be intimate with such an ugly old fool as me?
I can’t make decisions – why would my ideas be liked anyway? My preferences are easily over-ridden as they are ridiculous and unimportant.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I am.
I love Michelle but believe I suffocate her. She no longer finds me attractive.
update 20 Jun 2014
Re-reading this causes me some embarrassment! It's fair to say that I had bouts of depression several years ago but there is little in my above diatribe that I recognise as me. Today I have a good deal more self-esteem than before. If I suffocated anyone it was myself. Michelle is quite capable of handling herself.