Hannah's Blog - The Crazy Piglet
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Channel Hopping

6/10/2013

 
Well, that was a waste of time.  Channel hopping, that is.  Absolutely nothing to watch, and nothing to listen to.  So I had a nap instead, and was woken up by the church bells at the back of the cottage.  Ringing them is part of the Fox Festival, but they're a bit noisy.  I usually love their sound but today they grate, because they represent everyone else having a good time, out and about.  Not that I'm jealous - that's an emotion and I don't have those - but I'm aware of the gulf between me and other, normal people, many of whom are walking past my window as I type.  My house should have a red cross painted on it to warn others of the lunacy within.

I wonder what other people who are depressed are doing at this moment?  I wish I knew.  I'd recommend writing about it - it gets the poison out to somewhere safe; I think if I hadn't done this blog, I'd be incarcerated somewhere.  And here. at home, I can write, smoke and drink tea/coffee whenever I am up and about.  I wouldn't be able to do that in hospital.  Another reason to be grateful to HT, for making it possible to stay here.

I'm eating ginger biscuits and dunking them in my tea - as you can see, I'm a healthy eater at all times.  AND I had an egg banjo for lunch, despite being told not to.  A small rebellion, but my own.  Merrick has just texted and he's coming out to see me to break up my afternoon, which will be good.  Kate and I have FaceTimed - she and Bruce were having brunch.  So I am making an effort to see some people - I must remember that when I feel isolated.  I've also arranged for two good friends to come and stay in late October, if I'm well by then - I'm trying to reach out a bit.  It's difficult when all one's instincts are to crawl away and hide in shame.  Why is it such a shameful illness?  I wasn't ashamed of having a knee replacement, and I'm not ashamed when I have flu.  But this is different - I cower away from contact with most people as though it were somehow my fault.  Maybe it's because depression is perceived as not coping, and I consider myself to be someone who copes well.  So not coping is a failure, I suppose, or I see it as such.  Merrick is arriving, so more later.      





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    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?

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