Crash

And burn.

Following on immediately from my previous post, I made an unbeaten 51 the day after. I had told myself that another failure would result in my break from the game. We won by 10 wickets and I was due to buy my first jug of the season. All was well.

Since then... I don't know. I don't update this blog very often any more, for no actual reason, but as this blog used to be a place to turn to in times of hardship, the idea doesn't cross my mind anymore. I turn to more tangible resources such as my Mother for some sort of support, as difficult as that is for someone like me. And anti-depressants. Citalopram. And beta-blockers. Propranalol. The last couple of weeks have become the worst of my life, and now I shall tell you why.

Throughout the past six years, I've had what my mother has described as "episodes". I'd be coasting along quite happily, just doing this thing we call life, when suddenly, crash. I stop. Literally overnight, I go from a bubbly personality to a lifeless corpse. It's depression, and its completely debilitating. These pages are filled to its depths with tales and memories of these times, but the last couple of weeks its been ... Different. Its been prolonged and more real. I feel like a cat that has lost the 8th of its 9 lives. I feel like, with more responsibility in my life now, that my illness is making other's lives worse. I feel like a burden. Unable to go to work, I won't get enough money to pay the bills and that makes me more anxious. Problems make more problems that lead to more problems. The longer I leave going back to work, the more difficult it'll be, and the idea of doing so even now fills me with dread. And here we go again... Yet again...

I've spent my days literally asleep. For being asleep means I am not awake. I went back to the doctors and they gave me a form:

- Do you feel helpless? Yes.
- Do you feel like you have lost enjoyment in everything? Yes.
- Have you lost your appetite? Yes.

I answered yes to all the questions. The only one I didn't answer 'Yes' to was the one about suicide. I don't want to die, but I don't exactly want to live either. I have most certainly lost enjoyment in everything. Work feels more like a sentence than anything else. Its Friday evening, the most magical part of the week, and I have a full weekend of cricket ahead of me, but I'd rather stay in bed. I'm not entirely bothered if we win or lose, or if I score 0 or 100 tomorrow and Sunday. I'm not really all that bothered if I have any food in because I won't be hungry anyway. I haven't really eaten a lot in the past week.

 One sentence that can sum my mood up entirely? Nothing really matters anymore.

Bad Form

I'm not going to lie, my life has been too busy to be updating this. In the week, my days are a good ten and a half hours, and by the time I've got home, made dinner, eaten said dinner, made my lunch for the next day and ironed my shirt, I am that tired that I retreat to my room and collapse like an unfit marathon runner. Life has been ... Well... Life. Weeks come and go before you can even think about saying 'Monday morning', the new job is going swimmingly, and life in the flat is as good as ever, although I note that I am slowly getting lazier and more untidy as the weeks fly past. I am also noticing a decline in my partying habits as hangovers last longer and money is now spent on dull things like council tax and washing powder rather than Jack Daniels. I believe it is called "growing up", which I've tried avoiding for as long as possible, but can no longer escape its longing claws.

All is going well then, except one thing. Cricket. The one thing I have enjoyed more than anything else since my first ever match as a 15-year old. As a team, we are doing great. Mid-table mediocrity on Saturdays, which is acceptable given I am trialing youth team players who are doing exceedingly well at the step above what they're used to. On Sundays, we are flying high. 150 points out of a maximum of 150 available means we are sitting on top of the tree with 5 wins out of 5. Players have been putting in magical individual performances which have helped us to that level. Monty scored 129 at Harrold. Abid has two five-wicket hauls and Boony secured figures of 7-19 last weekend. Me? I haven't even made it into double figures yet. My batting form has become that bad, that its quite literally laughable among my teammates and even my colleagues at work. And I despise it.

I can take a bit of banter about it here and there. Its to be accepted. But there are two issues with this now:

1) Its gone on for so long that any attempt at banter in my direction is slowly but surely integrating into my brain as fact. I'm not entirely sure my teammates know that any comments do now have a negative impact.

And 2) Some of them insist on taking the mickey two minutes before I go out to bat. Not content with throwing banter around the table with a pint in hand, some of them say things like "Try and make 10 today hey", as I'M WALKING OUT TO THE MIDDLE. I do not need to hear that just before I start batting.

And its got to a point now where I'm seriously considering a break from the game altogether. I can't say I'll quit forever, because I don't want to, but these last few weeks have been draining at best. I can't justify my place in the team at the moment and I don't think I should use the "I'm captain so I stay" card. I have another game tomorrow, (I made 6 today and then caught in the gully), and we shall see how that goes, but this sport at the moment is making me slightly disillusioned. I don't like it.