My favourite things are, of course, coffee and fags. Sorry to disappoint those of you who were expecting whiskers on kittens. I'm up again, but still feel OK. Nitrazepam gives me weird dreams, usually first thing in the morning - although some would say that my unconscious is responsible. I don't know which it is, but the dreams are strange, full of aliens and destruction. I often dream that it's the end of the world, caused by a nuclear holocaust; or I dream that I'm sailing on the Solent in a small boat that is sinking. Any interpretations welcome.
I'm in that limbo between illness and health, where I can see a future but am still afraid that it might turn to dust. I still have a foot in that mineshaft, with its depths and horrors, and I still feel vulnerable. I'm fragile, I suppose, and will have to be careful of overdoing it. I get tired easily and have naps during the day to recuperate. The trick is not to beat oneself up about that - I'd snooze if I'd had a physical illness, so why can't I sleep when I've had a mental illness?
Today I can drive if I feel like it, which is liberating, although I probably won't - tomorrow I have to collect meds from the surgery, so that will be my outing. It's not surprising that I seem to have lost my confidence about a number of things to do with going out of the house - it has been my sanctuary for a month now.
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?