Thought I might wake up - I just had that feeling. I was in the middle of a weird dream about comedians and clowns, and pain in my arthritic shoulder woke me - sleeping at an odd angle, I expect. I've had quite a few comments about the piece I wrote about religion - mostly saying that although they were spiritual people, they didn't like organised religion. I suppose I agree with that - the church has a lot to answer for. But without organised religion, the church might die. It's a dilemma. I'm too lazy to go on Sundays, and I always ask myself why I would go anyway - sense of camaraderie? Good sermons? I envy people their faith, but I can't find mine.
I've read a bit of what it was like when I was depressed and it makes scary reading - I wonder how I stay alive sometimes. That absence of everything; that missing personality and the sheer desperation. I didn't read much because I'm still a bit to close to it for comfort - I can still see the mineshaft, even though I'm not in it. The Black Dog is a way down the road, but he's still in sight.
I'm having coffee and fags, although that probably goes without saying to regular readers.
Onwards and upwards.
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?