Camomile and The Claws Of Axos

The insomnia is constant, but last night was the worst in years. After the turmoil of seeing AM for the last time and taking the rest of my stuff from the flat, not even three mugs of camomile and honey and the usual soundtrack of DVD commentaries could get me to sleep. To make it worse, they put the clocks back, so I had an extra hour to endure. Hopefully, tonight will be a little easier. Bone-deep weariness and The Claws Of Axos might win out over fear and sense of loss.

I suspect I’m not going to get much work done ahead of going into hospital on the 17th. I’d love to think that I’d get the iboga selling document done and after more than 13 years, finally sort out the Bill Hick’s interview within the next two weeks, but I also know that being in this much of a black dog, creative work will become a subset of surviving.

I've no desire to look at my current situation of impending surgery and the heartbreak of losing the love of you life after seven years in Pollyana mode, however, it has had some benefits besides rapid weight loss. I’ve enjoyed support from friends who I hadn’t previously realised how much they actually cared for me. I’ve even found myself able to ask a couple of them for help. Asking for help is wonderfully out of character for me as I’d usually much rather give aid than receive it.