The Fear of Insomnia.

In many ways I fear insomnia as much as I fear my illness. The former is a pre-cursor to the latter but with the added anxiety and churning mind. As I went to bed last night I suspected I might be in trouble. With a cold emerging even yesterday I watched a gentle film before bed about a student in the 1980s. Gentle and funny though it was it made me sad. Sad thinking back to what was, sad thinking of what became.

I often extol the virtues of Cambridge but my childhood there was marred and scarred by the actions that took place. My first year of my undergraduate life was a characterised by loneliness, my second by disaster and my third fighting my battle with mental illness. My return twenty years ago saw me seeking something that was long gone and generally being angry and depressed. That film made me think of those days.

Sleep steadfastly refused to come. I checked my watch at 3.15 am. By 4.30 am it was getting light. At 5.00, 6.00 and 7.00 it was clear that it would not come. Added to which my eyes and nose were streaming, my throat sore and a hideous cough were all saying stay home. I text my boss a little later to say I wouldn't be in.

Sadly I couldn't go back to bed as my long awaited psychiatry appointment was this morning. Been a long time since we met last October. Having waited 40 minutes it transpired that he wasn't in. Yes they offered a locum but I didn't want that. Not really angry just disappointed. I could have stayed in bed.

Home now I'm waiting for Composer of the Week on the radio and wandering what on earth to do with myself. Feel flat and tired. The hours will tick by and we will see what transpires next. Charlie and Jayne have spent the last few days fighting this lurgy, really hoping it doesn't last that long for me.

I Heard a Voice.