It’s not always serene progress

The more eagle-eyed of my tens of readers will have noticed that my output hasn’t been great over the last couple of months. There was supposed to be a Christmas series, that got cancelled. Couldn’t do it. There’s been no feature writing to speak of for ages. I haven’t even done a review of every single home game, as much as I endeavour to make that the minimum that I do.

Now, it’s pretty obvious why that is. Many of you will have guessed. It isn’t because I can’t be arsed. It’s because I’ve not been well, and I’m still not great now. I can’t say what went wrong, because in October and November I was flying; good reaction to stuff I was writing, a piece published in Norwich’s programme, an appearance on the radio which I’m told was pretty good, even if I did sound like a Manc. It’s all hunky dory at that point. But in December, I just totally lost any self-belief that I’d built up. I can’t explain that at all. And once that goes, all hell breaks loose.

It’s difficult for me to explain my situation. Logical stuff, like why I despise Dean Saunders, well that’s easy. Just come up with a ten point list of why the man is a fucking moron (pick any ten from the 10,000 reasons I have banked away). But trying to explain why I feel down or why things are going wrong…it’s not easy. For a start, people struggle to understand why I don’t have any confidence in my ability. And I can’t explain it. I can’t tell you why. You can tell me I’m good at what I do, I can tell myself the same. Doesn’t make any difference. As soon as I get in that spiral then it really is downhill. Running over past mistakes, talking myself out of plans, thinking the worst of every single circumstance, gradually developing into self-loathing and right the way through to considering ending it all. I’ve been there over the last couple of months. It’s not been a picnic.

So, to cut to the obvious – I don’t have any immediate plans to off myself. Well, not really. I’ve obviously given it some degree of thought so I know how I could do it, but it’s not on the agenda for now. I don’t think you need to worry about that. Or I hope not. No, the issue is how I fix this, because this isn’t a sustainable situation. The problem I’ve had is that none of the usual mantras and routines have worked lately; I mean I’m calm enough, I’m not delirious, I’m not frantic, I’m not doing anything destructive, but I just can’t lift this fug. I’ve visited the doctor this week and upped my meds (again). At present, that’s all they can really offer. So we’ll go with it. At least I’ve tried to do something in that respect.

The whole thing is familiar. I know when I’m slipping into a bad period. I know that I’ll question my worth on the planet (I mean don’t ask me right now, because I’ll say “fuck all”). I know that my whole thought process regarding myself becomes entirely irrational. I can see all that, but it’s like that’s some outside party observing matters. I suppose none of this is meant to be rational. That’s the nature of what I’ve got. As much as I hate to be defined by my condition, at this kind of time, I have to be. Which in turn, doesn’t help my own view of things. “You can’t write because you’re a fucking nut” is not a brilliant mindset.

The worst of it is that I had projects planned and they’ve all gone on the backburner. The outside look is that I don’t give a shit. The opposite is actually true; I give more of a shit about my work than anyone will ever know. The amount of stuff I chuck away because I don’t consider it good enough is scandalous. It’s to my own detriment, because it’s my own time I’ve wasted writing something that I’ve sent straight to the recycle bin. That little fella at the top left of my desktop has never been so well fed as in the last couple of months. I need to stop that. I know. Believe me, I know.

I’m trying my hardest not to get stuck in a rut with all this. Because I feel entirely talentless and worthless, the easiest thing to do would be to hide away and wait for it to go away. But being as that isn’t an option, I have to commit at the very least to doing some kind of review of the Forest game on Saturday. It’s not much, but I can do that. I do hope I can write some other stuff soon, because my site is not just for player ratings. It’s meant to be a place for features that touch on areas that the mainstream sites won’t go near. For nostalgia that anyone without an eidetic memory has forgotten. To er, shoehorn in unnecessary references to crap Britpop bands. I haven’t done any of that for ages. So more than anything, I want to fix things and get back to that.

I can’t help but think that my life is coming to some kind of an endgame. I’m 37 in April (if I make it that far) and I can’t keep on drifting through with no purpose at all. I’ve got to do something. Soon. If not, then what really is the point? It sounds fatalistic and perhaps it is, but I really can’t be in this position again in January 2019. I’m really sorry for being crap lately. For some of you, I hope at least I’ve been remotely amusing on Twitter. I do try. And I do like the community. It does feel like there are people looking out for you when you interact on there. And at least I’ve got people to talk to.

I’m doing my best. I know that it’s nothing like good enough, but let’s hope the next update of this ilk has better news. It might not look like it, but I’m trying as hard as I can. Honest.

I’ll leave you with someone who sadly left us this week. Now there was a talent.