The dark brain fog of this planet’s accursed axial tilt. (A Day In The Life Of An SAD Sufferer)

14 12 2011

SAD feels like being on the cold outer edges of the Solar System, where the sun is but a distant star.

The SAD (Seasonal Attitude Disorder) from which I suffer was particularly bad yesterday. Wrapped up in a my warm nest I found it almost impossible to drag my carcass out of bed and operate in decent society.

Luckily a lot of my work involves using the window to the outside world that is my laptop. Physical contact would be too much for me, conversation with people online can be easily managed. I am far better with written prose than mumbling ideas while avoiding eye contact during the winter months.
Eventually I managed to haul ass out of bed and into the shower. A trip to the post office and then a local postal depot was the mission of the day. By then it was 3 in the afternoon and whatever brightness the cold December day was starting to fade into a ominous monochrome. Just a trip to the post office was fraught with unnecessary anxiety, the simple act of posting two parcels had built up to a small mountain of effort as I waited in the line but once that mundane task had been completed I felt relief.
Next I trekked across Finsbury Park to pick up treasure from the post office depot. The sky got darker and darker and my walk was plagued with thoughts of the tumultuous events of the past month, without the constant feed of Twitter, Facebook and the Internet my mind isn’t busy enough to keep such pessimistic musings at bay. If you think my constant updating on social media is just an addiction or attention seeking it is far more than that, it is a distraction from the horrors which lurk in my subconscious (and for matter it is my job as well!)
Treasures recovered, polite conversation with cheery Postal worker with an African accent about the weather (surely a good sign of being integrated into British society, although his sunny disposition will have to go before he is fully absorbed into the Hive.)
The evening I had a work’s do to go to. For a while I debated whether to chicken out, but Sam (who runs the whole operation with an energy and boundless optimism I find alien) would have been disappointed if I bailed so I wrapped myself up in colourful and comforting (and needless to say fashionably Dalstony) clothes and headed off into the night.

It was a nice night, without the aid of chemicals I did find the social situations slightly awkward. Alcohol being as appealing to me as shooting up heroin I did debate whether to drop come MDAI but thought the company was too polite for me to be dilated of pupil and talking a 100 words a minute.

This morning was another struggle, with nothing specific to get out of bed for, the cold and the wild and exciting dreams that enthrall me. Popping the state prescribed anti-depressant (10mg Citalopram, hands up those of you who are on it right now) seem more like a matter of routine, or ritual rather than any noticeable effects but based on my research on that there Internet a drug called Etizolam would dispel some effects of the winter blues such as anxiety and lack of motivation.

It’s thanks to Etizolam that I’ve had the motivation to write this blog (which I haven’t updated in three months despite there being plenty to talk about (no longer being a transvestite for now, discovering the joys of the fashionable East End, housing nightmares and moving back to London thanks to the kindness of friends.)