VALENTINES DAY DEPRESSION

I’m not easily given to tears, but getting no Valentines Day cards was a bit of a blow. It was a bit of a blow to see the postman pausing for a few seconds at the end of my path, sort through a big bundle of cards and then walk on towards Mr Johnson’s house. It doesn’t help that Royal Mail lost 14 million letters last week. If only one per cent of those had been Valentines Day cards addressed to me I’d have had a bluddy van full.

Last week, my therapist suggested I might start keeping a Diary so that I could keep track of any sudden changes in my mood. I did as she suggested but I don’t think it makes very interesting reading. My therapist says it is the single most boring Diary she has ever read in all her life. See what you think: Monday; got up, went to toilet, went out, came back, went to bed. Tuesday; got up, went out, came back, went to toilet, went to bed. Wednesday; stayed in bed. I never even went to the toilet.

I stopped writing my Diary after Wednesday. I found that keeping a Diary had made me even more depressed than I was at the start of the week. My mood had changed from ‘REALLY DEPRESSED’ to ‘VERY DEPRESSED’. It didn’t do much for my therapist’s mood either to be honest. There’s only one other level below ‘VERY DEPRESSED’ and that is ‘REALLY VERY DEPRESSED’. I don’t want to reach that level before the weekend, not with Friday being Library Day.

I do hope something happens to lift my spirits soon. It would have been lovely to have received a Valentines Day card. If only Down Rover! hadn’t been turned down by those horrible people at Boots on account of it being a toxic hazard and of its disgusting smell; I am sure the chances of me receiving a Valentines Day card would have increased considerably.