No human being can keep permanently afraid: fear goes at last to the back of one’s mind, accepted, and shelved, and done with.

(H. G. Wells: The War in the Air)


True to form, only having two appointments for this week meant one at 9am (on the Monday after the beginning of the summer time too) and the other 1.5 miles away at 1020.

Scarcely hoping the cognitive behavioral therapy meeting would make much difference to my social phobia anyway, after twenty minutes without any sign of anybody expecting me I left. That seems to be me done with the NHS for some time, as the two further appointments related to my footdrop, promised on 11th of this month, haven’t been heard of since then.

The other meeting was alright, except that I did underestimate the weather and returned home cold as ice. Still, the letter awaiting me there didn’t bring me down. Even though it was the half-expected one about the rise in my council tax. I just shrugged it off and returned to my bed to unfreeze my bones and reduce sleep deprivation.

True, I don’t have the money. But during these last five months I’ve had so many dispiriting experiences I hardly care any longer. You can only worry so much for so long. Whatever will be, will be.

No, I’m not giving in to depression. In a sense, quite the contrary.



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