I hate myself. Period.

Period has started, which explains both the high optimism and the following depression. I either love or hate being me in the week before I come on. I get this burst of creative energy, think I can do everything, but am also very touchy about those who don't share my enthusiasm, and get depressed when I see any tinge of disapproval in others.

I also get very forgetful.

On Sunday, I locked my keys in the car and had to pay the locksmith to get them out. I also made a complete cock-up when I handed Ishbel the writing to choose for 'Off the Rails' as I left already published items in the folder. I wasted her time unforgivably and am now resisting the urge to berate myself over and over in an unproductive way. What an arse I am! (I let one slip)

I'm hard on myself.

I'm worrying now about the Walcott seminar this afternoon. I'm convinced I will make a cock of myself, once again. Although my rational self knows that this doesn't matter, my irrational being wants to be praised by the alpha male. Please like me, please, I think and then hate myself for thinking it.

How happy I am that this blog is now private. No more 'chin up' comments, and worrying that I've wasted people's time by having this post on show. The perfect place to have a moan.