night thoughts, going round and round in my head

[krazyside.livejournal.com]

It's late - so late it's almost early - and I'm listening to Emilie Autumn and writing because my brain won't shut up and let me sleep.

Spent today bravely holding off depression in anticipation of my first Labour Party meeting. Made it there and it was crap. You know all the boring meetings you've ever had to sit through, like, in your life? Well, double the pointlessness and triple the boredom and you're almost there. Jesus. They were all wierdoes, too. There was a Naive Middle Class Kid, a Stereotypical Working Class Man, a Sneering Man, and a man who looked like a stage magician or a circus ringmaster or something - it was the beard that did it, that and the suit. Oh, and some totally anonymous Party hacks as well, of course. To quote Douglas Coupland, they didn't have any aura.

Jesus wept. That's what's left of Democratic Socialism in this town, is it? I guess we're about fucked then.

After the meeting everyone got together in their little cliques - there was no attempt to welcome me as a newbie or anything, so I just fucked off, got some booze in, went home and watched Vanishing Point. Then to bed and worry about how to leave therapy.

It really isn't working with the therapist. The more I think about the crap she's been coming out with the more angry I get. I have to escape or I'll find myself trapped in a really crappy situation - getting shitty advice from a shitty cheap therapist who begrudges everything she supposedly does for me because it's pro-bono. I guess I have to just leave the situation. Not easy.

Doctor's tomorrow.

Doctor

[krazyside.livejournal.com]

Saw the doctor today. They were crap. Offered me some shitty CBT and some shitty antidepressants. Asked about mood stabilizers and she said that they only curbed the highs, not the lows. She also said the happy pills might not be such a good idea if I have highs. So it's no to the drugs and "yeah, go on" to the CBT. Oh, and a load of trendy bollox about how I should do voluntary work. Why the fuck would I want to work my ass off for no pay? I want money, honey. Reward is a crucial part of work, without which there is no fucking point. I've been there; you just end up feeling exploited and resenting it.

Still, at least I got it across that I was ill and they could see some symptoms first hand. This is going to sound manipulative, but unless I'm really depressed, my mood usually becomes blank and placid as soon as I see a doctor, but today I was pretty kraaazy; talking fast, ranting about my therapist and on the edge of tears. I see them again in exactly 2 weeks.


***

Later on I got wound up by two scumbags asking me "what I was doing over there" when I had been messing around clambering on a ruined church and generally exploring. I told them I was doing whatever I wanted, and they called me over and continued talking at me in incomprehensible dialect. I explained irritably that I was "Chilling out!" and they went on and on talking nonsense, trying to draw me into some kind of crackhead conversation I suppose. Fucking junkie scum.

I'm still livid about it now; haven't been fucked with by that particular breed of lowlife since the mid-noughties; in fact I haven't been bullied generally for a couple of years now.

This fucking recession's bringing all the bastards in the world out of the woodwork.