Forgive the gap. It probably looks to the untrained eye as if I'm off gadding. (Gadding always makes me think of Gary Glitter now, so as a verb it is permanently tainted.) Trust me, I am not gadding.
The sheer weight of things sits on me like a rather heedless elephant and, jest though I might, I think it may be time to get some medication. When you live in the most beautiful place in the world but feel nothing, something is not right. When you wake up feeling as if you are full of cement, something is not right. Depression is at the door and sadly, unlike vampires, it doesn't wait to be invited in. I cannot say exactly what makes this happen. But an excellent book which I have started and will read a page at a time before falling asleep explains that extreme stress fucks with your limbic system and leads to depression. (I wonder if limbic is related to limbo.) The small comfort of this is knowing that essentially it is a physical condition.
If you suffer depression to any degree, and those of us who do can suffer it to any degree, you will have probably received a lot of sympathy in your time but also some rather unkind remarks to the effect that you are not really trying to fight it, or something like that. If you had a broken leg, it is unlikely anyone would tell you you are just not trying to fight it.
Depression is a symptom of something inside broken; it is not just a person wimping out. Christ, we fight every day against it. Every day. Just from time to time, there are too many bloody vampires all gatecrashing at once and it gets too much.
If I can get out from under the weight of things for five minutes, I will get in touch with the counsellor I saw last year. who can prescribe anti-vampire-elephant stuff.