OK. I admit it. I’m on the naughty step as far as posting on my website and I send apologies, awkward bow like movements, with or without optional hand flurry and lots of affirming noises along the lines of – ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ It is. It was.
I’ve been laid low with a (mercifully) short bout of Depression. The black dog visited and we agreed terms – and she’s left. (I find throwing biscuits and balls into the middle distance helps distract her – interpret that as you will – my former psychiatrist would have a field day). I could have done without the nasty virus that followed but, in common with most of the Highlands, I have victim stories of a hacking cough and wheezing. I was a martyr to symptoms for a few days. Why should men have the monopoly on ‘man flu’? But I’m now fine. Better than fine. I reckon I’ve lost a couple of months of serious work though.
Depression is a difficult subject but I’m out and proud. For me the trigger this time was the loss of my mobility some months ago when I wasn’t able to secure a replacement powered chair through NHS wheelchair services. When I feel trapped I can succumb to a very low mood. I was OK while I was pumped on adrenalin; ready to fight for a chair, but the waiting for a decision on appeal was like watching paint dry and sapped my energy.
I have the appeal decision and it isn’t good news, so there’s more fighting to be done, but that got me back in touch with my anger so my passion has returned. I am firing on all cylinders.
So my apologies for radio silence. This gal is back in town.