The one in which the Woodcat decides to stop drinking for a time because she keeps listening to Nick Drake in the car

 There is a dog following me. You know the one. He's being howling in the field behind my house for some weeks now, chasing my car as I drive to and from university, sitting outside lectures,barking all day, howling all night. Recently he's been getting more confident and coming closer. He pads around my back garden and knocks on the back door for food. And against my better judgement I've started to feed him, to encourage him, and I think I must stop, or soon all my evenings will be spent alone doing nothing but watching Limmy, with a black dog lying with his head on my lap.

You know that the Woodcat has occasional issues with depression, right? And issues with ADD? And you know how that works and impacts my behaviour towards you all? Probably yes and no in equal measure.

The depression side of things is simple enough, in that most people I know have had personal experience of depression, either first hand or through close personal acquaintance. People tend to understand the need to introvert, to oblivion seek, to be a little less present, a little less emotionally available or capable. The attention thing makes things a tad more complicated. People have images of attention disorders as hyperactive bastard kids into everything, unable to focus on everything ever. People who are unreliable because they never remember anything. Truth is, it's not really like that. Attention Deficit Disorder is kind of a misnomer, it's not that attention is gone, so much as it's almost impossible to direct it appropriately. It's being sat at work working to a strict deadline and only being able to focus on learning how to make soap - seriously, I have quite a good understanding of how to make lye, render fat and make a good quality soap, though my attention waned before I ever got around to doing it. It's not being able to work between 3pm and 3:30pm daily because you have a work colleague on a conference call, and you can't tune it out of your head. It's revising for your Maths A Level by reading Edgar Allan Poe, or reading first year degree level Maths when you're doing your English degree. It's having known for a good 18 months what you want to write your dissertation on, knowing exactly what you want to explore, exactly what you want to say, but being unable to start until three days before the deadline. It's being eight years old and maybe only writing the date in an exercise book over the course of an entire morning. It's being fourteen years old and maybe only writing the date in an exercise book over the course of an entire morning. It's being late for everything. It's about understanding everything in classes, but being unable to write essays. Locking yourself away to work and finding yourself doing everything but. The inexhaustible lists that you attempt to live by. It's the inability to forget anything, and the inability to prioritise these thoughts, ideas. It's fluctuating between constantly going off on tangents, or an inability to change tack. Not letting things go. It's the constant blow to your self esteem that comes from chronic underachievement, that despite having an IQ somewhere above 140, you can't complete simple tasks on time. It's going out with strange boys that you really ought to avoid because they were willing to run down the road pretending to be an aeroplane with you. It's a basic problem with inhibition, of self regulation, of impulsivity. It's a problem regulating your interest level. It's needing immediate reinforcement, immediate rewards. It's not being able to skirt around issues, ideas, wanting the point, the bottom line often even before there is one. It's growing up being constantly told you are wilful, stubborn, stupid, a daydreamer. That you are idle. Lazy.

All of this causes significant impact on me personally, but I'm kind of used to my own academic and professional self sabotage, I've come to understand it and if not forgive exactly, at least be more forgiving of it. But there are areas that still upset the crap out of me, and yet it's hard to prevent it from happening. My friend Paddington used to say that there were two Woodcats, a good one and an evil one, and in lots of ways that's almost exactly how it is. Much of the time I can be a warm, understanding compassionate person. And yet... It's constantly making social gaffes that alienate and isolate. It's suffocating friends who need space, and neglecting those who need your attention. It's asking questions that are none of your business, joining in conversations where you may not be welcome. It's treating people badly. It's getting angry for ridiculous reasons. It's being curiously intolerant of other people's behaviour because your head is in a ridiculous place. Constantly butting in and not waiting your turn in conversations. It's existing in a curious plain next to reality, where you veer in turns from looking at the world from behind your face, to being completely engaged in hedonistic experiences. It's a million and one small things that everyone will recognise, but for most people it doesn't impact their lives. Be thankful. It's a bitch.

Depression is a curious ally to balance my ADD. Experiences with depression have allowed me more insight into how my behaviours impact others, and to be more self aware of when I go significantly down hill. And I am starting to notice that I'm going down hill. I'm not treating people well. I'm not treating myself well. Most of my day is spent feeling like I'm looking at the world from behind a mask. My foot is in my mouth more often than usual. My impulse control is way down. Basically, I'm not great to be around right now. Self sabotage is a definite issue. And I'm playing Nick Drake way too often. So I'm going to spend a little less time with people for a while. That said, I am very lucky to have friends who accept that sometimes I am an arse, and will either laugh at me, or tell me I'm being an arse, or both. I'm also lucky to be reasonably aware of when I am less than I want to be, and work on making myself less of an idiot. No mean feat, mind, but I'm working on it. Still, if I'm an arse to you, tell me. Self aware or no, I don't always notice myself being an idiot, and you can't change what you don't know about. It's kind of like the age old dilemma, do you tell someone they're flying low? Most people avoid doing it for their own personal discomfort, only to let the other person embarrass themselves more widely, by exposing themselves more widely... So if I'm a dick, tell me. Hopefully it won't last long. While having a black dog lurking in the back garden is one thing, I'm not keen on the idea of living with one full time.