Impetus

On Tuesday I saw my psychologist for the first time in four weeks. She seemed to do plenty of catastrophising, if that's a real word, about my work situation. My work is making my depression worse; my depression is adversely affecting my performance at work. I hope to have moved from my current job by the end of November but have so far made little progress towards that goal, mostly because I don't know where to start, and because I find the whole idea of having to send off CVs and do interviews quite daunting. But there is a real sense of urgency now. If I stay where I am I'll still be depressed, and if I'm still there in the new year I'll have to sit exams again; that doesn't bear thinking about.

Back in the UK, even though the market was much healthier than the one we face today, it took me ages to find my first "real" job. And when I take into account that I only got the job thanks to a fluke meeting with a friend of one of Dad's sort-of-friends, my current situation appears hopeless. If I get another job in a corporate environment like the one I'm now in, I can't see what that will achieve. So where do I go? In yesterday's paper I couldn't find any jobs I'd be able to do, let alone jobs I'd be able to do and would want to do.

The good news is that this week at work has been sufficiently crap to give me the impetus to look for a new job. Today was easily the worst day. At one point I scrawled "I GIVE UP" in three-inch-high letters in my notepad; later I had another of my sessions in the toilet; then at 5pm I found out that my whole day spent arsing around with spreadsheets and computer programs had been a complete waste of time because I'd got it all wrong. My next step is to email a few of those job agencies - I'm not sure how I can word my emails to avoid sounding desperate.

The woman from that flat didn't get back to me, so I don't know when, or if, this drink (I don't like to use the word date here) will happen.