There are two initials that seem to follow me, they have done since my teens, since I was introduced to Catcher In The Rye at the sweet age of sixteen, this initials are J.D.

I am currently re-re-re-reading For Esmé; With Love & Squalor and I had forgotten how true an artist Salinger really is. It’s easy to just skim over the details when reading a novel but the way Salinger does it is like nothing else, I’m biased I suppose, I’ve been an advocate for practically a decade. I think what I like about reading his stuff is that it showed me that not all books are about bold adventures, or larger than life characters, there is something beautiful in the description of the tasks of the every day and the humdrum conversations we all have, if you harness that you can pull it apart and that’s what he seems to do so well, any of his work is a pleasure to get lost in, and it relit my love of reading at an age when I guess a lot of other people are getting turned off.

His reach extends beyond literature and his influence can be felt in any of Wes Anderson’s films; the flawed character, the questionable psyche, the endless smoking, it’s all there and it’s a wonderful compliment to a man who turned so far from the limelight that it’s hard to martyr him now.

For the best part of a year I’ve been attending an improvised comedy workshop. Tonight is our second show and to put it in the words of the little girl in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation I am ‘shitting rocks’. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Five minutes before I ‘perform’, be that in a band, playing acoustic, giving a speech, improv, whatever, I take myself away for five minutes to make sure the Fear isn’t going to rise. This stems from a gig I did for a friend where I ended up puking before we were due onstage. Since then it’s become a ritual to go and hide for five minutes in the toilet. Earlier today it was best described by my partner in crime Jocasta as my ‘Eminem bit’.

That aside though, improv has done a lot for me. I’m not quite so overwhelmed or scared by groups of people or looking like a dick because every week for two hours I do my best to make people laugh by looking like a dick. It’s only when you manage to knock that self-conscious feeling aside that you can happily act like a dick and I think people appreciate that.

I’ve also met some awesome people, it’s a strange mix that turn up for the workshop but it feels like we are all going somewhere (but this is a topic I’ve spoken about before). The important thing to remember is that I trust these guys now, they sort of get me (as much as human beings can ever begin to understand each other) and we have a laugh (often at each others expense).

Improv will also forever be associated with my friend Danny, who I lost in November of last year. He dragged me to that first session without telling me anything about it, including the fact we had ten weeks before our first show, I will never forgive him for that, but that’s the reason I still turn up week after week, to show that there was more to it than just wanting to spend time with him, I was learning a lot more about what I was capable of, what I was comfortable with and it’s made me all the better for the experience.

I think every once in a while it’s good to throw yourself into a metaphorical ice bath like that.

I’d like to begin this post with a disclaimer, I am not pointing a finger at anyone in particular. If you’re annoyed by what I’ve said then you need to think about why and maybe reconsider the way you conduct yourself.

In the four years that I have been working I have noticed a very casual attitude to the concepts of stress and depression. It seems perfectly acceptable to threaten to get signed off by a doctor if you don’t get your way and I have issues with that.

I’ve suffered with bouts of depression for over a decade and know it is not a subject to be taken lightly. I am therefore disgusted that anyone would have the audacity to cry wolf on such grounds. Getting signed off from work with stress or depression is not a get out of jail free card, it is not an extra holiday, it is a serious matter that people clearly aren’t educated about properly. The idea of someone threatening to get signed off seriously upsets me, because it makes the very poison that curdles inside me when i trough seem like it is a joke.

The fact of the matter is that it’s something that I am working through, and will continue to work through. I was offered to be signed off and didn’t take the bait because that just means what I’m fighting has won an extra bit of ground, it’s interrupted my flow. Although when it is bad I can spend days in bed I try to hold these off to weekends if necessary, the thought of being off work due to my problems is not an idea I would entertain. I have also been offered (and refused) anti-depressants. My reason for never doping myself up in this way is exactly the same, it means you can’t handle it on your own, and want all of your senses closed off. From what I know of anti-d’s they can be more dangerous than the depression itself. I’d much rather slowly face my demons than hide from them.

Thank you for reading.