Work is gradually wearing me down and making me more and more miserable and I'm doing less and less of it, and despite visits to a psychiatrist, sessions with a counsellor and increasing dosages of ADs things aren't getting better and I can't see how to make them start doing so any time soon. I've been glad to be ill, so as not to have to go into the office, and this is a bad sign. But I'm not feeling hopeless, or not completely. I really *must* make myself go and talk to James about it though. It feels very mucb as though the department is happy to carry on quietly ignoring me while I muddle through as best as I can and I don't think this is going to work. At least I've made a start in telling Paul how I feel. I do wish it could all just go away sometimes.
So I guess that's why I've been so quiet recently. And I'm sorry if I've been not keeping in touch. I miss seeing people a bit, but I'm not terribly good company. I'm very short on small talk at the moment. Curling up with people watching telly or staying curled up on my own with a book are the things that are keeping me going at the moment, even if they're not terribly sociable.