J’s Diary Entry
16 March 2003
Spent most of today in at work, desperately trying to catch up. Can’t seem to bring myself to do a single goddamn stroke of work while I’m there during the week. Have been so depressed. I think I have been since November but I’ve been trying to ignore it. Naturally, it has now landed on me like a tonne of bricks. Everything seems crap and stupid. The sitcom script which seemed so good two weeks ago is now actually embarrassing and shite. I’ve eating nothing but junk food all weekend and feel fat and nauseated. I’m completely friendless except from Jade. No one calls, and I can’t blame them because I really am the crappiest friend in Australia. Was meant to go to Lucy’s farewell from CPD drinks on Friday night but couldn’t bring myself to face it. Naturally, Lucy will take this VERY personally (she always does) and now I feel awkward about organising our monthly movie get-together. Everything is just crap and I can’t stop thinking about killing myself. I actually went to the doctor on Thursday (the one near work) and asked for a referral to a shrink. Said I was depressed. Didn’t mention the suicide obsession, it tends to make them nervous HA! Didn’t mention the eating disorder either – too embarrassing. He was nice, the doctor, though the door to his office didn’t close properly. Kept swinging open so I could see horrible old Toorak Matrons hobbling around the surgery. Not exactly the sort of environment that encourages candid confessions.
Jade dragged me out briefly last night to ‘Bar 94’ in Swan Street. McKenzie and Tilly came along. I had a headache from eating sugar all day and had swallowed two Nurofen. Made me sleepy. I came home at 11.30pm.
I worked out the other night that I have spent ten of the last twelve years single. Scary. Scary that I would even bother working something like that out. Triggered a crippling attack of loneliness that I am seemingly powerless to overcome. I am also in mortal fear that Jade will leave me (move in with Eli, go overseas or whatever) and I will be completely alone. God, what a pathetic LOSER I’m becoming! All I can think about is killing myself. I must spend at least 2 hours a day thinking about it, planning it looking forward to it. It seems so normal to me, though I know it’s not. Fuck, I’m so obsessed with thinking about it that I can’t even stop long enough to come up with some penetrating insights into it – just bland, trite teenager moans. I just can’t see a way around it. I can’t see a future for myself. You know I don’t actually think it is depression. I don’t have the disturbed sleep, the slowed down thought process, disturbed appetite, any of that. Just an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and obsession with killing myself. Christ, I’m such a bore.
The self portrait below was drawn at the bottom of this diary entry. It shatters my heart.