For most people in our modern world where consumption is king, the acquisition of that shiny new thingy you've been hankering after is a time of joy, but for some reason I never get that warm glow of satisfaction.
Instead, I feel a strange combination of numbness and guilt.
The 'happy happy joy joy' feeling is diminished by an overwhelming sense that I don't deserve this thing; that it's an unnecessary waste of money that would have been better spent on more important things, and that the guilt I carry in the back of my mind over things in the past make me unworthy of enjoying the fruits of my labours.
When I finally managed to get the car I'd wanted for several years, I couldn't stop thinking I should have just bought another five hundred pound shitter instead.
When I had a small windfall recently, I had to be practically ordered to the jewellers to buy the gorgeous Rado watch I'd been dribbling over for ages, and it still took a fair while to come to terms with what I'd done once it was sitting on my wrist.
It's much the same with any sort of praise. If I achieve something at work that is of importance and the boss is grateful enough to make a point of saying so, I just shrug my shoulders uncomfortably and mumble something about "that's what I'm here for".
What is it that makes me this way?
I sometimes think a psychiatrist would have a field day if they spent an hour or two delving into what makes me tick, and would probably end up having me carted off in a jacket with many straps and buckles by two burly men for an extended stay in a room that resembles the inside of a bouncy castle.
I know I have an active analytical mind that relishes practical problem-solving challenges, and I usually have the capability to manufacture the solution with my own hands. This is the aspect of my job that I love the most and I'm good at it.
So why do I go all dismissive and humble when another person acknowledges it?
Over the years I've come to realise that happiness cannot be found in material possessions, and I now readily accept that. But although I accept my life will not be better or more fulfilling if it happens to contain a nice new SLR camera, I don't understand why my brain tries to convince me things will actually be worse because it's unnecessary and who the hell do I think I am anyway?
I try to be a good person, and I know I find the greatest sense of satisfaction comes from helping other people, but just for once it would be quite a novelty to get home from a shopping trip that wasn't for groceries or home essentials, and not feel a level of guilt as if I'd stolen the stuff rather than paid for it outright.
I've long had issues with over-analysing life, and right now this is probably one of those times.
Maybe that's why I like to drink - because it switches off that bit of my brain which dedicates its runtime to making me feel bad about myself.
Unfortunately, since my last post about three weeks ago not a drop of alcohol has passed my lips in case I get a call asking me to take the nephew's wife to hospital to have her baby.
Due to these circumstances I've been able to stop drinking completely cold turkey which really hasn't been a problem, and suggests I've been nowhere near having any sort of drinking 'problem'.
However, I'll be very glad when the sprog has arrived and I can go back to keeping my internal character assassin sedated with vodka.