It is a sunny Friday afternoon. It must be nice to sit in the garden and do nothing, maybe read like lots of people do and not worry. I can’t. My anxiety is so strong at the moment I am trying to stop the urge to drink at lunchtime or punch myself in he head again, a common throwback to my teenage years in moments of stress. Self harm in a way but without the messiness of blood like cutting. It feels like a build up of pressure in my brain mixed with some kind of pain but I don’t know how to describe it. I almost want to cut it out with a knife and burn it.
I woke early and did not sleep well last night after drinking too much, the most in weeks. That’s what my anxiety craves, a moment of relief to drench the flames of despair but alcohol always comes back to gain its revenge the next day .I went for a walk instead. As I have said before I don’t know why they advice walking for depression as if they assume we all live in the Lake District and skip amongst the flowers and butterflies in some kind of heavenly nirvana. In reality I live in the city, the same one all my life and almost all walks are boring and don’t make me feel much better especially in the heat of summer and with lots of people about. Pollution and traffic on crowded hot roads and the parks full of families and sunbathers. Not good for my mood. It stopped me drinking but has not made me any happier.Much of life just about filling in the bad depressing parts of the day until evening again when I will no doubt drink some more.