attempting to stay just ahead of the depression.

This had to happen.

you don’t go through surgery, anesthesia, 21 pills a day to replace gland and thyroid functions and then be confined to a square block radius of home for over 2 weeks without depression threatening its clouds on the far horizon coming ever closer each day.

here’s what we’re doing to keep one step ahead and stay sane: decoupage, visits and tea (lady of letters on her way at 10! Watching The Women – yes, the original, darlings, with ABM tonight), writing letters, writing this blog here, reading reading reading, naps, walks (can’t wait to swim but wound still too open for another few weeks apparently) but still it threatens to swallow us up, particularly around eleven PM, 4 AM and low points-mid-afternoon.

But it’s Sunday today (we were born on a Sunday – do you know the saying? Yes. We are ;)





a few pix from our morning-bugger-off-depression-Sunday-stroll.

The English complaint of melancholy

Paraphrasing Byron “the English disease of melancholy” but it really hit me today after a stream of (non) communication. I took a walk and looked up at the concrete jungle and thought “ok – so we made it – according to the external world’s definition of success.”

So can we leave now?