I'm a reasonably fit person for my age - but depression has a way of loading on a couple of bags of stone - so that even the simplest task becomes difficult. This can make you clumsy and disorientated. This in turn makes you feel more weary and incompetent. My chronic dizziness was also dialed up to 10 this morning. Even getting through the garden gate was a challenge. Does it open inwards or outwards? Everyone of these little snafus undermined me and made me believe that I was hopeless. I was there for about 45 minutes and here are some of the things depression said to me:
'Surely you can pull up a small weed like that - a child could do that.'
'Why can't you handle the spade properly anymore?'
'Don't bother hoeing all those weeds out because you'll be a basket case soon - so it doesn't really matter.'
'Why can't you get the tools in the boot properly so the lid fits down - idiot!'
'You only have to walk down this path to the compost heap and you're swaying like you've had 10 pints.'
'Why is Nicki so much better at weeding than you are? Aren't you supposed to work in a garden centre? How incompetent can one person be?'
'You shouldn't be sweating like this - you haven't even done anything yet.'
The louder the voice got - the more the fog descended and the dizzier and more clumsy I became - which in turn made the fog even thicker. By the time I got back in the car I was ready to give up entirely and resign myself to sitting on a chair in a darkened room for ever more - like some character from a Samuel Beckett novel.