It seems I’m unlearning how to sleep. I usually can’t do without 8 solid hours per night, but in the past 7 or 8 weeks I rarely got more than 4 hours on any given night. Last night, for example, I didn’t get a minute of shut eye.

Not the best way to start a week. Shame, not for DH either, who now sleeps in the guest room (let’s just call the flippen room that) to avoid my tossing and turning. The advantage of this is that I can at least turn on the light and read – it’s currently way too cold to get out of bed and do anything else.

I started on Fluoxetine last Thursday, so I’m hoping that spring will eventually arrive again.

I should probably also see a therapist – which would be to DH’s shock and horror. He has about as much respect for a psychologist as for a maximum security inmate. But sheesh, I feel so haunted by ghosts of Christmas past (previously survived a dreadful illness), present and future at the moment.

I guess one can only vaguely hope to be able to make sense of it all some day.

But back to work, chin up – and smile.