Why do I still search for that elusive magic answer that’s going to ‘fix’ me? Is there something innately human about it, perhaps? Just when I don’t think I can stomach another inspirational book, there I am browsing amazon for just that.

They never help; same old, same old. Why can’t I just accept the way I seemingly am? Probably because I hate it – hate me! Hate is perhaps too strong a word; contempt, is better!

God, all the books I’ve read, all the therapies I’ve practised: CBT; Acceptance & Commitment Therapy; religion; spiritually; diet, supplements & exercise; medications; mindfulness; prayer; meditation – all seemingly to no avail. Well, that’s not true. I’ve definitely made progress, and over all I’m less of a slave to my afflictions than I used to be. Still relatively unhappy though – still inadequate. Today’s a four out of ten on the Dysthymia scale.

Sick to death of professionals saying I just need to this or that. They don’t seem to get that I’ve done it all until I all but turned blue. Sick of the bro-science and bullshit too: ‘Over come anxiety in seven easy steps’….. yeah, right!! Well, actually, some people do ostensibly ‘overcome’ their anxiety, and there’s the rub: they assume that because they overcame it, everybody can; arrogant bastards!

Is this what’s it’s going to be like until the end of my days? Probably. That’s sad and unbearable. Wish I was more present. Hate that word, ‘present.’ Those stupid mindfulness exercises, putting your thoughts on a leaf; WTF?! Why do these therapies have to be so bloody flowery?

The past haunts me. The moments of shame which seemingly pop up from nowhere. Is there nothing I’ve done that I’m not ashamed of? Just waves and waves of shameful memories for no rhyme nor reason. Shame – that just about sums me – my life – up.

It’s not all bad, I try to remind myself; yesterday was a ‘good’ day. Wish it would carry on into this one, though. Maybe I’m just tired. Weather’s a bit miserable too. Why am I so fixated on being ‘well’? Even if I were well, what the hell would I do with my life? I suppose, if I were well, I wouldn’t seem so dispassionate about everything. Hadn’t thought of it like that before. Perhaps Nietzsche was right: there are no facts only interpretations. Mentioned that to my brother-in-law once. God he’s an arrogant prick. Answer for everything. A small-minded know-it-all, confusing intelligence and wisdom with  knowledge. Anybody can know anything these days. Why do I end up with these men in my life?

My Buddhist acquaintance would of course say that the universe is trying to teach me something. What does he know?! He’s got bi-polar, was an alcoholic for 40-odd years, and a crack addict for 3. Intelligent guy though. Owns a multinational company. God I resent other people’s success. That’s all beyond me. If only I could surrender to it; at least I’d have some peace of mind. I don’t know.

Time to go to the shops. Not looking forward to the parking. Too many vehicles – too many drivers judging me while I reverse. Maybe I’ll do some work in the garden too, later. Physical activity may not cure me, but it does numb to the point that I can’t be bothered to care. We shall see!

Aksenty Ivanovich Poprishchin.