Feeling depressed - hit the buffers

Oh dear.  The January blues have hit me.  I've been fighting depression all month.  I've tried to keep positive, and keep doing things but right now, I've had enough.  I've had flu, my husband has had flu with a chest infection, art classes have been cancelled due to illness (possibly fortuitously, as I was too ill to attend), I keep being called to Coventry for short notice tutorials, thus I let down my cycling group as I am meant to be tail rider.

Then I was called back for a tutorial with Imogen, where she's made it clear my writing is not up to scratch, and neither is my reading.  I have to read a chapter from The Subversive Stitch, for us to identify how I can read deeper into the text, to get more from my reading.  I don't get it, when we have to read texts to come up with something new!  I don't like texts that are so obscure that different people get different things from them - surely part of good writing is that the writer's points are clear!

Then I went to the William Morris Gallery to find out whether their upstairs landing gallery would be available for a Masters show, and met the most incredibly offhand, patronising member of staff.  There were 3 volunteers who tried to be friendly and encouraging, and the woman working the till who contradicted every helpful thing the volunteers said -  'there is a 3 year waiting list for gallery space'; 'there is no-one available to speak to unless you have an appointment'; 'write in to the general enquiries email'; 'only the upstairs landing would be suitable', all said in a snotty, patronising and disdainful manner.   I crept out feeling humiliated, and she didn't even notice me walk in front of her!

Various aspects of the upstairs landing at William Morris Gallery

I forced myself to write to the email address for William Morris Gallery, about gallery space, but felt really inadequate.  I try to be robust and resilient, but suspect I'm not even going to get a reply.

Yesterday I felt so despairing about my work that I decided to complete my MA and end my studies there.  I just don't think I can take it onto PhD.  It's just been going on too long.  I walked out of London Met, but I'd nearly completed 2 years, and I've done another 2 years, and my reading and writing is still inadequate.  I'm struggling with isolation because there is not really a strong peer group.  I'm very uncomfortable arranging my solo show for my exhibition.  This is a major stumbling block for me.  I'm ok when my work is part of a group show, and it's been selected by a jury - that validates the quality of the work.  But a solo show! Oh no!  It feels egotistical.  It makes me feel quite ill. And I'd tried so hard to be brave walking into William Morris Gallery, but tried the direct approach because when I wrote to Dagenham Library, I got no response at all.

I wonder why I bother.  Yet I know that, particularly at this time of year, if I don't have a purpose and something to investigate, I'll end up depressed.  As if I'm not this anyway.