Sleepless in London

I haven’t taken Citalopram in over a week, which (according to Dr Google) means it should have left my system.  It is official.  I am no longer on anti-depressants.

I’ve always found that a “bad day” was triggered by my sleeping pattern – too much or too little.  That, and the day after drinking.  Hangxiety.

I had a really stupid nightmare last night, that shouldn’t really have been scary.  I was on ship (like a cruise ship) in this stormy weather we’ve been having, and all of a sudden it was sinking, and I had to swim for my life.  I woke up just as I was getting pulled under by the current.

It was 2.45 when I woke up, and I didn’t get back to sleep until 5.30.  I couldn’t turn my brain off. I watched two episodes of Paris and Rec (I’m so nearly finished!), I read some of Little Women (possibly the most boring book of all time) and I woke Edd up to talk to me until I fell asleep.  Except he fell asleep first. Oops.

I’m so glad it’s Saturday.

So today is perfect breeding ground for a “bad day, which would explain my emotions, as well as my boredom, inability to find motivation and the fact I want to curl up and sleep.  Though the latter could just be the lack of sleep.

It’s the first “bad day” without the buffer of the meds in (checks calendar) just under four years.

More Parks and Rec!

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