I can’t get out of bed

Life is about choices. You can explain your lot away as bad luck, but I face you with the possibility that your lifestyle is the result of choices you have made.

Said the therapist I went to see last week. Before leaving I made another appointment to see him so that I wouldn’t appear to have the problem with commitment that he had identified. But I don’t think I’ll go. I went to see him because, with the combination of the end of a relationship and George Osborne’s well-named autumn statement, I’ve been finding it hard to get out of bed.

I went to see Ruby Wax’s excellent show about mental illness and in it she said that when the black dog descended she couldn’t get out of bed. Then I saw Kirsten Dunst in Lars von Trier’s Melancholia, and she couldn’t get out of bed. Whilst in bed I started watching The Sopranos, ten years after everyone else, and it turns out Tony Soprano the violent mafia boss is also depressed, and he goes to see a therapist.