No one can help you except you and only you. The big yawn about this is, as with any other skill, you have to practice doing it in order to break the old habits. It's the only way you'll be able to get off cruise control and start to notice the scenery, smell the roses, taste the chocolate and hear the cry of a she-wolf.
Each generation thinks their parents have screwed up the world. The teen's job is to clean up his parent's mistakes and blame them for being selfish, greedy bastards who just think about themselves and are to blame for the world being a mess, the ice cap melting and the fact that there are no jobs or money because we've spent it all. (On these points they're right on all fronts).
Mental health campaigner and OBE recipient Ruby Wax recently told The Times: "When people say, 'Should you tell them at work?', I say: 'Are you crazy?' You have to lie. If you have someone who is physically ill, they can't fire you. They can't fire you for mental health problems but they'll say it's for another reason. Just say you have emphysema."
If you went down a manhole and sat there in the dark, what's swarming around up there in your brain sums up whom you really are. I'm not saying don't think about redecorating your house but in the big scheme of things the rehaul won't make your experience of the world any different, even in a new chair.
When I wasn't working in the past I'd feel obligated to start cramming myself with information; what disasters are happening in the world war-wise, airplane-crash wise, inflation-wise, hurricane-wise and Jeremy Clarkson-wise; the list is endless. When I don't work I start feeling like, "Dear God, who will want to see me if I don't have news or gossip to spew out?"
I love performing my show, mostly because of the second half where I have the privilege of sitting on stage and letting the audience take over to ask, answer or discuss whatever. For those 20-30 minutes it feels like I'm with my people that we're the same under our fronts with all our vulnerabilities we need to hide.
I've decided, in the deluded spirit of making resolutions in the new year, to try and change an aspect of my lifestyle; I'm going to dip my toe in the water of an attempt to be kind to myself. My problem is I can't tell when I'm being nice to myself and when am I just being a lazy pig, so I never stop with the self-flagellation to keep going. If I thought about what's the greatest thing I could do for myself, I'd tell you it was 'to never have to get out of bed'. I'm my happiest when I have a virus and have an excuse to lie there without the nagging mother in my brain screaming, "Get your ass up and out".