Last night I had one of those terrible nights, where the potential catastrophes befalling all of my loved ones at that very moment kept sleep so firmly at bay. I've had no energy for days, and so many things that I ought to be doing, that I want to be doing. Peaceful thoughts didn't help, Brain Training 2 didn't help, went to the bathroom, got a drink of water, blew my hayfevered nose. Nothing helped. So I picked up one of my most recent Bookmooch acquisitions "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf. Right there in the introduction, is a sentence that I will paraphrase (low energy remember, and the book is next door): After those first pages, she didn't get anything further done on the book all summer, as she was ill with headaches, low energy levels and fainting, even though she was very excited about the book and wanted to be working on it.

Now I realise that Virginia Woolf had far greater problems in her life than I do. But it is comforting all the same to know that sometimes these things can get the better of you. I will keep trying, taking small steps, and one day soon my energy will return and I will have a night's sleep not filled with anxiety dreams.