I've been in the fog for about a week. In a way it feels like I've been reunited with an evil, lost relative. Someone from my past I can vaguely recognize - and then it comes to me, oh yes, it's depression. I remember now... This time it's different than any of my past episodes, At this point when I had depression in the past I'd be panicking that my old self is gone - my old personality gone and this new deader one to replace it. But even in this chaos I sort of know this is temporary, I just happen to have this disease and this loss of identity is part of it; my mind is just out of the office for a minute.
It's hard for me to write this and come up with words and sentences because it feels like no one is at the wheel of the ship - so who's writing this? I'm pushing myself to keep going so I can remember what it looks like when it's written down and for everyone else who suffers with this to say this is not your imagination, you are not being self indulgent (I'm fighting my mind on that one). It's exactly what it says on the bottle, it's poison, terrifying and a complete mummification in nothingness.
I started my journey to publicise the book in New York. Everyone tells me they love New York, to me it's a gang rape on the senses. I want to confess war crimes after being kept up all night listening to trash trucks clanging. I took the subway late one night after a show, waited two hours for the right train and witnessed bedlam; feral people were howling like wolves...
This week a government body finally woke up to the fact that TV makes us fat. The National Institute for Clinical Excellence (NICE) is drafting recommendations that people cut down on their TV consumption. Having ditched the box myself ten years ago, I wonder why it took them so long to switch on to something so obvious.
It's the only illness where you get - absolutely free with the package - a real sense of shame. I've heard people say, "I know people with real diseases, show me lumps show me X-Rays", and of course you can't so you begin to feel bombarded with self-disgust thinking," I'm not being carpet-bombed, I'm not living in a Township, how dare I, who has everything, be depressed?"
I'm placed next to Brain Cox and something inside me wilts because I know I am sitting next to a superior being and he will soon find out I'm a two-celled worm... This is my trigger, if I'm near someone that smart, I tailspin into the interior pre-recorded CD made in childhood that goes something like this, "You're a total idiot and people will find out that you're an idiot."
When is it time to dive in? Recently, in the case of one London man who saw another floundering in the Thames, the answer was clear. After trying to help from the riverside to no avail, he took the plunge, even though he didn't consider himself a strong swimmer and remembered Emergency Services' general advice to wait for them.