I've been so bored, lately, and have voiced that to Hubby, yet he's OK just idling about. He's mildly depressed, while I'm not. I'm more action oriented than him. I can try to put a fire under his butt but it doesn't often work. He's always so slow. Throughout our marriage I've often daydreamed of pulling him or carrying him in order to move faster. When I've tried to rush him he's protested.

Last night I didn't fall asleep until 3 am, waking up at 8 am. Hubby put on breakfast for a change. I definitely took my evening meds. I'm wondering if the season changes are a factor. There is already blooming forsythia here and snowdrops. This is not normal, but hey, nothing seems normal anymore.

My reduced pregabalin (Lyrica) has lowered my appetite, but my left foot pain has also returned to a degree. I guess the latter is the lesser evil. Really, it's no biggie.

I was thinking a lot about my old psychiatrist yesterday. It is/was a transference love case. I miss him more than I miss my own father. Sad but true. He and I have exchanged a few emails since I stopped "seeing him" last May (video sessions during covid). It's hard not to see them as sorts of love letters. It's my doing, as I initiate. I simply have to stop. I assume he likes them enough to not tell me to stop, or simply stop responding. In that sense, he's also quite to blame. Surely more so. It's been since before Christmas that we last wrote. There's never been proper closure in the relationship. I twice tried to say goodbye, but he refused it. Another abnormal thing. It prevents the grieving process from being adequately completed.