smashing time

Whether or not you've noticed, or care, I've had a difficult year so far.

Nothing especially serious has happened, I simply haven't been very well since returning to Manchester.

To be more specific I've struggled to get up, shower and go to work every day. A month or two ago I frequently considered not bothering with work, that instead I could just carry on walking until something happened.

I've managed to eat regularly, but I've eaten quite badly, and haven't cooked much at all. I haven't exercised. I haven't done much reading. I haven't been able to create much art, just the occasional bit of sound/music.

I tend to wake up, or come in, and switch on my computer and do nothing for hours.

I haven't applied for jobs, for the training I wanted to do, for artist residencies, or anything else much at all.

I haven't gone out, or felt like going out. I haven't called or messaged anyone even though I've desperately  wanted human contact. I haven't made an effort to maintain my web presence.

The reviews I wanted to write of Jandek, and the last event from The Other Room are never going to happen now, they're too far away.

It's felt like my life is slipping away from me in the sense that I've lost the ability to reach out to people, I've lost the ability to motivate myself, to organise my time.

At times I've felt like self-harming, or like I want to walk away from everything. There would be no plan, I would just go missing.

Given the amount I've changed across the previous four years, the things I've managed to achieve in that time, and the fact that I still regard 2010-2011 as the happiest two years of my life, this has worried me. But I've been too apathetic to do anything about it.

It's curious, I'm pretty certain this isn't depression, and it most definitely isn't anxiety. I'm not sure it matters what it's called. I hope I can clear it out of the way soon though.

Edit Mon 11 June 2012: A few people left some kind comments I much appreciate over on Facebook when I posted this there. I just left the following note explaining why I wrote the final paragraph above:

Thanks everyone - may try to get to the doctor soon. The thing that gives me doubt is that - to take yesterday when I wrote that for example - I managed quite a lot without struggling. So I showered, had breakfast, washed my laundry + hung it to dry outside, cleaned my shower, cleaned the kitchen, swept my bedroom and tidied stuff away, brought in the dried clothes and folded and put them away - along with close to a fortnight's clean washing I'd just dumped in the wardrobe, all before 1. Then I had a quick lunch, wrote my piece, and went for a six hour walk which I enjoyed immensely, although I only got around 30 photos. Back home I had dinner and read some of Orlando. That's neither massively unusual nor an especial strain, which is why I kind of have my doubts.