Everything felt normal yesterday. That might sound boring, but it's what's heaven's all about to me at the moment. There were familiar people, cosy chairs, the smell of old books, plates of food. I had lots of conversations and I was able to say with conviction that yes, I'm feeling a lot better. I could have added that I felt this way because I was pretty sure nobody in the room was trying to do me any harm, at least not on purpose, and that I really loved them all to bits. But I'm getting used to not talking about 95% of what I'm actually thinking. My world and that of other people don't seem to have that much in common. I wonder what people who don't have pain, paranoia or apocalyptic concerns actually worry about. Mortgage rates? I used to do that back in the days of spare thinking capacity. I've forgotten what that was like, but it sounds nice.
Saying that, I've been in normal mode for a consecutive number of days, I'm cheerful and getting things done. The pressure around my skull is creeping back though. I'm tired of walking though life like a human pincushion, but I do get the odd day off. There's also the full range of sensations from prickly through to thumping. I can't complain at the lack of variety.
Sometimes I think about all I could have been capable of if I'd been allowed to think in peace, but it's best not to. This is me being cheerful, by the way. Ha-ha-ha.