The Wakeful Imp has struck again and here I am once more. Daisy hasn't moved from her chair, so it's the vet for her. The minute I get down here I light a fag and check for emails - that's very sad. Only then do I make myself a drink. I wonder why I always wake at about 0115 - maybe the drugs have worn off enough for the Imp to break through. I feel awake and raring to go, but won't do anything that makes me feel high, like tidying my study. I do that when I'm manic, which is one way my friends can tell I'm getting ill. I think HT are right, however - this feeling is a reaction to being so depressed. My flying thoughts are fast because of the contrast with my depressed thoughts, which were so slow. This alert feeling is just normality - at least that's what I am telling myself.
My hands aren't too bad, but then I did smother them in cream before I went to sleep. I despair of ever wearing my signet ring again, as my left little finger is badly hit.
A friend of mine has sent me a copy of the House of Lords Hansard which discusses mental health. The motion to Take Note was tabled by Lord Layard, a Labour peer with a special interest in mental health issues. I'll précis it when I've read it - it's a lot of pages to digest.
Now having a hot milk and then I'll read a bit of Hansard - that should send me to sleep.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?