It's not fair

It was a slow day at work today. Life is going by in slow motion anyway at the moment, but one of our computerised systems (one of the two I have to use all the time) was down virtually all day, finally spluttering into some kind of life at 4:30. Not only was work impossible, but a lot of yesterday's work had been wiped too. I haven't found it the most intuitive of systems, even in its fully functional state. Before I know where I am, I've got four or five different windows and I never know which one I should be clicking on next. The other system I use is a black-screen jobby that came into being in 1980. As did I. As did Pac-Man. And it does look like one of those eighties games that have since become retro-cool.

I've always been a bit skeptical of computers, at least when they have to do anything remotely important. I remember when my local dentist's in the UK moved from a manual appointment system to a computerised one, and what used to take a few seconds (as the receptionist wrote your name in a book) suddenly took ages. It was like pulling teeth.

I saw the doctor today. When I told him I wanted to taper off my Efexor he was a little concerned at first, but he agreed in the end. I'll drop down to 300 for a month and see how I go. He mentioned counselling but then said I wouldn't qualify (unless I wanted to pay heaps for it) because I still have a job. Great. So they offer ambulance-at-the-bottom-of-the-cliff counselling.
He said I could get e-counselling however. Man/woman being replaced by computer again.

For the last two months I've oscillated between crap and just about OK (or, in the case of last Friday, actually quite good). The steepness of my latest decline has taken me aback a bit. I really have no idea what caused it. And what's different this time is that I feel angry at the injustice of it all. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I'm trying my best to do everything right - go to the gym, cook and eat proper meals, get to bed at a sensible time, take all the right pills, and so on. Why isn't it making any bloody difference?

I've really got to stop this head-banging stuff. It seems to "work", by replacing a very anxious bad feeling with a much calmer bad feeling, but obviously it isn't good in the long term.

Mum and Dad have just phoned me. Oh god. They're really worried about me - my depression has got past the point of being able to disguise it on the phone. After I'd got off the phone they rang me back again. They'd just discovered meetup.com. You could do this, you could do that, you could do the next thing. Yes (and it is a really good idea), but I can't take anything in right now and I really don't want to talk to anyone. I told Mum to "stop bombarding me with shit."

My brother arrives from the UK tomorrow. He's here for two weeks with his girlfriend. Unfortunately I won't see him.