Good morning. It’s just after six on the 4th of May, 2024.
Today, I decided to go for a walk and a talk, though I’m not entirely sure of the purpose—just to get out, I suppose. As of today, I’m nearing the end of my fourth week of being signed off. The general anxiety and depression seem to have been a long time coming, and I believe I’m attempting to engage in activities that might help heal or at least alleviate it.
The common advice is that talking helps, and I do hold that to be true. However, it seems essential to have the right person to listen, and the right person to talk to. Friends and family, while caring, have their own concerns, and it’s a lot to expect them to fully penetrate your mind. Maybe that’s why today, I’m essentially talking to myself. You might hear the rustle of my shirt as I walk—this recording isn’t really for anyone else; it’s just for me to talk through my thoughts and monitor my progress.
Over the last five to six years, I’ve felt myself slowly slipping into a sense of pointlessness, a despair about the world around me. In the last 18 months, it’s become deeply impactful—on me and those I care about: wife, the kids, and my relationships with my mum and sisters. I’m just not who I want to be.
Recognizing this is a step forward, I suppose. About four weeks ago, I visited the doctor who advised me to take some rest and prescribed some antidepressants at a follow-up appointment yesterday. I want to document this journey, to see if the medication makes a difference and if it improves my situation. I’m not sure what the game plan is if it doesn’t, but part of this process is about trust—trusting the process itself.
I know I’m not alone in feeling off or fed up, nor am I the first to turn to medication. It’s probably fairly common, especially post-COVID. So, I need to believe that what has worked for others might also work for me. That’s my first commitment: to follow the process. Take the medication, practice mindfulness and meditation, get outside more—like I am right now—and keep going to the gym.
This morning, instead of heading to the gym, I chose a simple walk. It was easier to slip on a hoodie and some trainers than to sort out my gym kit. So here I am, walking and talking. I’ll figure out the rest later when later comes.
I guess, even as I walk and talk, I’m struck by the soothing sounds of the birds. I’m not sure if this modest audio recorder I’ve picked up will capture their chirps. I tried to break my habit of justifying purchases by opting for a budget-friendly device rather than the more feature-rich options. My aim is to simplify things. I want a device solely dedicated to audio recordings, enabling me to just pick it up, press record, and start talking. Perhaps if I find a genuine use for it, I might reward myself with a better model later on.
I didn’t sleep well last night—or more accurately, I didn’t try to sleep. I stayed up binge-watching the last season of Manifest. It’s unusual for me because I typically can’t relax enough to focus on TV shows, but last night was an exception. Despite knowing the better choice would have been to sleep, I allowed myself to stay engaged with the series, telling myself that I could cancel the morning alarm and sleep through to lunchtime. But I resisted that impulse, sticking instead with my routine.
This morning, I’ve decided to stick to the sunrise alarm system I set between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m., aligning my waking hours somewhat with natural light—longer days in summer and shorter in winter. My plan is to get up, dress, and head outside immediately, whether for a walk in any weather or a quick trip to the gym. This helps break the cycle of lying in bed too long and then mindlessly logging onto the computer.
Post-walk or gym, I’m thinking: make coffee, take my medication, and maybe eat breakfast. Then, slowly ease into whatever the day holds—work, a day off, or weekend activities with the kids and Becky. Speaking of, wife has been waking up early, around eight, so I still manage to carve out a couple of hours for myself in the mornings.
Regarding my mother, she recently moved from the family home to a new flat, and some of her decisions during the move have been worrying me. She paid unnecessary fees to a company for services like changing the address on her driving license—a task that we could have easily done for free. I’ve tried to help her manage her affairs, particularly with the pensions, but she’s often chosen to handle things via third parties, adding layers of complexity and cost. It’s frustrating and concerning as I wonder about her capacity to manage these decisions effectively.
The financial side of things is constantly a worry. Despite a simple trip to the supermarket for essentials turning into an £86 expenditure, I’m aware that such spending isn’t sustainable, yet it feels necessary to maintain a decent quality of life. I find myself questioning whether my role as the primary earner means I have to sacrifice my happiness for the family’s comfort. It’s a tough balance, trying to ensure everyone’s needs are met without feeling resentful or overlooked.
In essence, I’m trying to rearrange my time, claiming the mornings as my own for productivity and personal care, so that by afternoon and evening, I’m more present and available for family time. It’s all a work in progress, and with the medication hopefully kicking in soon, I’m aiming for these new routines to solidify into a healthier, more sustainable lifestyle.
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