Good Grief 199

Bach Prelude

These waves and deep undertows are tedious.
That sense of being hooked by the ankles by something dark and sinuous and dragged down to the depths where there is no air ... again.
Sleep becomes a period of eventual exhausted unconsciousness and more than four years of poor sleep takes its toll.
I'm grumpy and depressed.
Drag myself to work - each day I manage feels a small miracle.
Once I'm underway I can focus, thank goodness
If I think of all the cameos of humanity over the last couple of days, each one a wonder.
I was fascinated when I asked the nurse for a box of tissues and she said but you are not acute trust, you are foundation trust, you are lodgers here and I have my budget on my desk ... see... (she jabbed at a rather splendid excel spreadsheet).  What a wonderful, mad, mad, world.
I am not entirely sure we are evolving positively or that we are progressing towards any greater humanity. Quite probably the opposite.
I'm not sure how much appetite I have for it.
I retreat when I can and pop my headphones in whilst typing up.
I have realised lately (belatedly) that this is something I have done for as long as I can remember ... when I was little we were very lucky. I was in a school that was part of the catchment that regularly attended the Robert Mayer children's concerts at the Festival Hall and a great new library was built where it was possible to listen to music on headphones where I lived. This is where I would lose myself without realising. It continued through university and then when I was unhappy in Perth (Australia) I spent much of my time similarly plugged in at the public library there. I think I've only just realised how much of a thread it has been throughout my life. I can feel myself disappear for a while and live there and never particularly keen on rejoining the world.