I don't think so

If there was any justice on this earth, and of course there isn't, then I would be able to happily pay for my sons to go through university and enjoy all the things along the way with barely a dent to my finances.

Of course, that isn't the way things work out and why my boys will have to rely on brains alone.

Because of my job, I cannot write about politics in the public arena so I won't, but my worth to the public is many, many times my pathetic salary.  And I am treated like something that ends up on the bottom of your shoe.

I'm far too old for a massive career change and that's heartbreaking.  My father's widow and much of his history is in Ottawa and my brothers live in Vancouver and there is absolutely zero chance of me ever flying over to meet them.  Instead, I have to rely on them coming to see me and that just isn't fair.  But then, life isn't fair.

The multimillionaires like Cameron, Clegg, Osborne and Cable (and most of the cabinet) have little idea about the struggle the rest of us endure throughout our entire lives.

I don't begrudge successful people their riches - in fact, I don't think those who have toiled hard throughout their lives to better their lives get enough credit - but the balance is all wrong.

I am doomed now to low pay - and it is low pay - and a bit of a struggle (yes, I know many are far worse off) forever whilst the undeserving rich are high on the hog.

I can't rely on the lottery changing my life, there is no unexpected windfall on the way, I simply can't work any harder and I will continue to get poorer.

We're all in it together?  I don't think so.

Black Dog returns

It didn't take much for the black dog to come crawling back.

What might seem to others a minor event, to me what happened at work was a setback.  And from heading away from the world of anti-depressants, having dramatically cut my intake in recent months, I was back to a doubling of the prescription.

I was getting better too.  I had more confidence about my life, my work and I felt better, mentally and physically.

The anxiety had largely dissipated although I still had madly stressful days when my brain seized up.  But as long as I prepared properly and recognised the stress traps, I'd struggle through; get by.  Not so many dizzy spells, which I had convinced myself were physical symptoms of an immediate heart attack or stroke, and less in the way of frightening palpitations when I thought my heart would explode out of my chest.

The depression was at bay.  I felt I was dealing with it.  I was writing a lot and I was playing golf obsessively.  I was occupying my mind.

I've been pretty sure for a while, since a head test, that ADHD was possibly the deep rooted cause of my woes.  The indications were such that it was near certain I had it.  But despite the compulsive urge to do something, which usually meant nothing, else every five minutes, I struggled through.

Then the knock back.

I couldn't speak for crying, I couldn't breathe slowly as the heartbeat went through the roof.  I went to the doctor and was given a fit note which meant I wasn't fit.  My drug addiction was not about to be broken.  My blood pressure was at mad levels.  In short, I felt my head was about to explode.  My temples were at bursting point.  Only a fellow nutter would understand how that feels.

The drugs, after a few (literally) nauseous weeks, are starting to kick in ever so slightly and the edge is knocked off my depression so I am not at the end of my tether on a permanent basis.  I still have my moments with outrageous mood swings and a desire to be on my own when I with others and to be with others when I am alone.  But there's nothing new about that.

The most dispiriting thing is that the black dog is still here.  I thought he was leaving my life, with his tail firmly between his legs.  I'd seen him off.

But I may have become complacent and I now need to start again.

That's very hard to take.