Up to the local DGH (District General Hospital)to see my psychiatrist last Friday. I must be getting better I suppose, because the intervals between appointments are getting gradually longer. It's been nearly 3 months on this occasion, and we agreed that the next will be of the same length.
I had been a little concerned coming up to this appointment, because I really have been feeling relatively OK recently, and didn't really have anything substantive and meaty to offer him. I did talk about my recent dental disasters and the problems with both my mum's and my F-in-L's Alzheimer's. But these, as we conceded to each other, are just normal "life things". And with my writing going well I really do feel as good as I have felt for some time.
Would it be fair to call me happy at the moment? Not sure. I've never put much store by the whole happy thing. To me it's always a retrospective thing: "That time before, when I did that or that was happening, I was happy then." Right now, you're just getting on with stuff, hoping it will be trouble free and trying not to get annoyed about it if it isn't,
I don't think I have ever deliberately sought happiness. Just tried various things to do that would hold my interest. A technique, if you like, for avoiding UNHAPPINESS. Now that I do believe in, and of course like everyone, I have spent quite a bit of time there.
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