Say goodnight

Sunday January 22, 2006

I’m still experiencing ups and downs as the fluoxetine cuts in. As the days progress each state seems to get shorter and to come closer together so I feel as though I’m riding a bike over a very bumpy cobbled path, unable to settle into a steady course and left with no more than determination to hang on and wait for the smooth ride ahead. Which will come, I know that.

It’s not so bad, really, and I’ve not thought about it consciously through the day until now, when I come to write it down. Past experience indicates that the disruption would have been far less noticeable had I been sensible enough to go on to the medication before the SAD built up to unbearable proportions. I’ll not make the same mistake next time.

Hey ho. If it were true that wisdom comes with age then we’d be surrounded by wise old men and women rather than the silly old farts most of us know.

I woke this morning to a splendid winter sunrise, with a stiff hoar frost and a light mist. Grabbed the camera and stepped gingerly out to snap the scene only to find I’d forgotten to replace the batteries that’d expired just as I took yesterday’s sunset. By the time I’d returned to the house, warmed my fingers up and changed batteries the moment was past, the sun was disappearing behind a grey sheet of low cloud, and the opportunity was lost. Hey ho again. The cloud thickened throughout the day and, if there was a sunset, it fell over different fields than the ones about me.

It stayed cold throught the day and on into the evening. Trapped by the cloud, I suppose. I’m ashamed to say that not only did I not take my daily walk but that the thought didn’t even occur to me. Best I managed was a restless pacing about the house, feeling caged and not knowing why. The only productive thing I did, so it seems, was to sit under my daylight bulbs and read my book.

All in all, then, not the most stimulating of days, one in which I felt besieged by the darts and arrows of outrageous indolence. Best thing to do at the end of it is to pull my cloak over my eyes and mutter the Et tu, Brute line. Say goodnight, Gracie.

 

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