14 May - Depression & Happy pills

Walking around solves so many problems. Not that I had any, but 48 hours in Lisbon saw me covering miles and not thinking about any downer thought for a second. Apart from 'There's nothing to buy in this town? How is that possible? I haven't come here to get someting from Zara...' So it’s not really big news reading in the papers that people here get over-prescribed antidepressants (or demand them and the sick and tired doctors just dish them out) when in fact, DOH, sending a few people to do some work on a farm or getting them out of the house for along walk seems to work out well in Holland or some other country and reduce the numbers of depressives. Of course they could have plenty of sex instead which banishes many a negative thought/self esteem problem but wanting sex is an apparent contradiction when you’re depressed and you can’t be forced to have it, (though am sure there's some anti depression clinic in Holland where that's part of the cure), whereas you can be forced to go for a walk in exchange for your next prescription of happy pills. As a matter of fact, I'm probably paying for some of your pills, so get on a bike ye who complain of darkness and no end in sight. Unless you've been recently bereaved, I have very little sympathy.

As an example they interview this woman who says she went to the doctor because she was depressed (ie in her case she was actually worn out) by working a 13 hour day, it doesn’t say which kind of job. She gets the pills and then changes job to another 13 hour day type scenario, which if you add in travel time etc, must have left her time to go home and sleep and start the whole sorry thing all over again. I’m sure she was depressed or … just very, very tired and sick of living because her job was robbing her of any pleasure in life? Why is it all so f king obvious?
Someone gave me a book called How to Be Free. Whilst I don’t think I’ll subscribe to many of the writer’s suggestions (can’t see me playing the ukulele or joining into singsongs for a start… or moving to the country), he, and a bunch of other writers of current non fictional stuff seem to advocate the same basic things like not watching TV and not reading the papers. These totally have nothing much too say most of the time. When there’s no news there’s ten days of missing three year old in the Algarve. Sure a personal tragedy to her family, but you know, hardly news, call me cold hearted and all that. Shit happens. It will be hard to kick the papers, but it has to be done. Though it all plays into getting old and caring less – although it should be more, and for some it is, hence my director of communications quitting next week to go spend a year with a charity working with children in Mexico (she’s 48or 49). So there are those kind of exodus/es to more meaningful ways to ‘do something’ balanced by a lot of ‘couldn’t care less, let’s hide in cottage in the country’. Which is easy, though making your own compost isn’t, nor is weeding. The problem is how to handle ‘couldn’t care less’ whilst living in the city. Guess in the country you have to make an effort to go purchase a newspaper whereas here they are abandoned on the underground and you just pick them up. I can see am rambling so shall stop.