I have, amazingly, tidied the kitchen table with the help of a friend. I've also opened a few letters, but there are more to do, I'm afraid. We're about to open the parcels which I've been ignoring. I couldn't have done any of that yesterday - it's astonishing what a bit of sleep can do. Long may it continue as I don't want to fall backwards again. If only I could stop the little imp in my head challenging the drugs every night, and keeping me awake. It's as though I'm driven downstairs - I can't possibly stay in bed when it happens.
My voices and thoughts are still there, but I'm dealing with them, probably because I have company to distract me. Kate comes at 3 and HT at 4. Kate's bringing cake for our high tea. It's a busy day, considering that I haven't been seeing many people, so I hope I can cope with it. I can always have a snooze at 2 before Kate arrives - I'm tired now, after tidying up.
I've said this before, but I'm always astonished at how physical depression is - fatigue overwhelms me on a regular basis and I have to give in to it. My shoulders ache more when I'm low, and my back hurts. When I was in Germany, the RAF Germany Band's coach crashed in to a petrol tanker and 20 people died. I was one of the officers assigned to a family to help them sort themselves out - so I was responsible for things like repatriating the body and arranging the funeral. It was very stressful and I think I was depressed when I was all over. The thing that collapsed was my back and I had to go into hospital. Later on, I had a disc out and a laminectomy. The mind can make the body ill, I think.
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?