I am depressed. It is odd: I do not feel sad, particularly, or any emotion one would think of as depressive, but I lack energy. I am sleeping more, doing less. I do not want to gather this up into a neat story, feeling it may have more integrity as a series of discrete observations, which may yet come to a conclusion.
Yesterday (Thursday) I thought, I need to get out in the sunshine. I need to feel my feelings. It was warm and sunny as I walked round the lakes, sweating a bit under my wig, a little stiff in the hip, and I wondered if I was enjoying it. I appreciate that it is good for me to have sunshine, exercise, and time in which my thoughts can be distracted, or feelings may come to the surface. On the bridge over the river, I admired a man’s lurcher, and he said he had seen a kingfisher there, several times. If he had had a camera he would have had a wonderful photograph. I express envy, I have not seen a kingfisher.
In the evening, I knelt, and paid attention to my breathing then affirmed myself. I feel calm. It is pleasant. It does not feel like suppressing emotions.
I feel lonely. It seems I am inauthentic, a hypocrite with everyone, attempting to appear sensible and reasonable, and I want to be seen. This may be a nagging doubt or a despairing scream not fully admitted because I do not see what I may do about it.
I hold myself in contempt. How may I stop?
It seemed I was projecting these feelings on others. That was the genesis of this post. That woman- well, it was a strange situation, I had spent the morning surrounded on three sides by police officers prepared for any action necessary to keep my transgression within bounds, and the place, with so many photographs of destruction…
I have tools to deal with this, such as thinking positively or reframing. I can notice when I am projecting in this way, and talk myself round. These are not new lessons: there are things I can do.
I do not like where I am…