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.
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?