I battled to sleep last night. We turned in around 11 and I read until about midnight, but it took me about an hour to get up to sleep. Then at about quarter to four one of our dogs decided to wake us up and then it took me until five a.m. to give up and take a sleeping tablet.
There is something my subconscious is trying to tell me. Something about hidden and unexpected treasures being stolen and returned. Something about an adventure. But I’m just not able to figure it all out.
Anxiety is a bitch but since the psychiatrist has doubled my dose of meds I seem to be less on edge…but the flip side is the side effects are back. Dry-mouth and headaches with a side order of nausea.
I’ve figured out that an “objective” indicator of how depressed I am is my interest in the fish. It seems to be a good scale and I’m keeping track of my mood on a site prescribed by my doc.
Not looking forward to tomorrow, it’s my mum’s birthday.
Rage Against The Black Dog 