Another New World

Looking back over my blog entries I begin to see just how insidious was the effect of lack of proper restful sleep  on my attitude to life.  I have tried to estimate, from the tone of my writing, just when the sleep began to deteriorate.  Tricky, because  though I do tend to sprinkle my writing with sometimes heavy-handed humour I have had to deal with the very real clinical depression and general malaise of life and all its miserable circumstances as confounding, contributing or even causative factors.   I would guess it may well have begun well over a year ago.  How low I had dropped since is pretty much summed up by the fact that on July 6  I was sincerely writing that the thought of death held no terrors for me.

Nor does it. Nor should it.  However reading between the lines, as my Dad clearly did, it looked as if I was publicly announcing that I was ready to give up.  Had enough.

All I can say now is that I feel normal again.  When just two nights sleep has me feeling normal and when just feeling normal feels this fucking good then I get some inkling of how very low I must have sunk.

I don’t want a pickle
I just want to ride on my motor sickle
And I don’t want a tickle
I just want to ride on my motor sickle
And I don’t want to die
I just want to ride on my motor cy-
-cle

 Arlo Guthrie

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About Alan

Alone in a sea of spinifex.
This entry was posted in Apnoea, Autobiography, Depression, Health and wellness, Hobbies, Humour, Life, don't talk to me about life!, Lifestyle, Motorbikes, Nightmares, Non-Events, quandaries and Dilemmas and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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