Regular readers of this blog (bless you both) will be surprised to know that I am given to bouts of morbid depression. I won't be a therapy bore, suffice it to say that we've identified that the underlying cause is work-related stress. I have been resisting taking antidepressants as I'm against them in principle (I know, I know, they work for many people but many of my problems stem from my setting unjustifiably high standards for myself and I will see a resort to drugs as a sign of failure)(besides, I'm not in my right mind, I don't have to be rational about this -- goddammit there's got to be some advantage to being barmy!)
The psychological techniques I've been learning as I've been going along have helped enormously in managing most of the stress symptoms: I'm not throwing up every morning before going into work and I'm chasing off the anxiety attacks long before they build up any strength. But the depression is dug in for the long haul and is being constantly fed by the irritations and idiocies of Helminthdale. As I say, I have been resisting antidepressants but in my last session it became apparent that I am seriously going to have to reconsider my position. I've learned over the years that reality is defined by the most insane element in the working environment, which explains much of the Helminthdale experience. I'm just not comfortable with being that defining element myself.
Of course, the question arises: what type of job is it that requires somebody's having to take medication to get through the working day. The answer is: a job that will be very easy to walk away from.