Return of the monkeys

I'm going to blame the assclown I dated last year for this. The pills I had to start taking to deal with the anxiety and insomnia I developed when his mother developed heart problems (the irony) have a known side effect of causing heart problems. Plus of course he broke my heart in the metaphorical sense. ALL HIS FAULT.

Stupid, stupid, stupid

What on earth made me think it was a good idea to go to a comedy show about love and romance? One with audience participation where people shared stories about all the lovely romantic things people have done for them? People don't do romantic things for me - they use me for a bit till they can't tolerate having me about any longer then they throw me away. Mind you, things don't appear to have been much better for the comedians. One stated that she had basically shut up shop after a bad breakup and the other admitted he'd never had a relationship.

I'm not enjoying the Festival at all this year. The only thing that's been half way enjoyable involved warfare, pillaging and death.

Lunatic fringe pt 2

On top of the catastrophic loss of self confidence about my abilities and misery about being single, I utterly hate the way I look at present and a lot of it has to do with that wretched fringe, which I only got because of the cliched desire to change my hair after being dumped (as if I didn't feel bad enough). If it weren't for the fact that the only attractive (to men) thing about me appears to be my hair, I'd go and get a peroxide crop. This photo may explain a lot. Note also the double chin, huge conk, jowls, gut and general encroaching aging. This was taken in late May, rather sooner after the operation than was sensible in retrospect and shortly before I had a complete breakdown, for which that fringe may be partly to blame. The monkey quite rightly looks very unimpressed.

I think I prefer severe depression

Now I'm feeling a little bit better I'm capable again of thinking about all the things that made me depressed in the first place. I'm not sure why this is supposed to be an improvement.

Massage

One of the worst things about the current situation is that nothing is enjoyable. I coughed up a small fortune on a massage last week in the hope that it might perk me up but nope. Even that monkey had a better time than I did. 

When are these damned tablets going to start working?

This explains it

Sometimes reading about someone else's issues helps to crystallise one's own. This really resonated.

I still feel dreadful about losing the magazine work in 2008. I feel dreadful about the coaching being a failure. I feel dreadful about the book being a failure. I feel especially dreadful about the book. Now I feel dreadful about the MSc being a waste of time and money and another failure.

I can't think of anything I'm good at and nothing interests me any more. I'm supposed to be job hunting but I can't even manage a conversation about nothing with people I know. Interviews seem inconceivable, always assuming I even get that far. There's only one small thing I can think of that I'm proud of that I've achieved in the last 5 years. I'm useless.

Better?

If the pills don't start working before I run out of monkeys*, we're in trouble.

*I have about two weeks worth of monkeys left.

Have another monkey

I have nothing positive to say for myself

so have a monkey instead.