I mentioned in that last old scheduling email, problems with sleep.
Generally I’m sleeping much better these days thanks to HRT, which I’m reliably informed is more likely the progesterone rather than the oestrogen patches themselves. Whatever it is, I welcome it, and a good nights sleep is the norm for me these days. Which is not to say I sometimes don’t struggle. Such was the case the other night after watching a Netflix film based on a true story of a plane crash back in the seventies. I knew there was death and cannibalism involved, so it wasn’t going to be a barrel of laughs, but I still felt horribly betrayed when the narrator died. What sort of monstrous trick was that to play on the audience? I’m being deliberately vague so as not to provide any spoilers, but if you’re not a fan of subtitles or fluent in Spanish you won’t be watching it anyway.
The trauma of it was enough to ruin my night’s sleep, in much the same way that the movie Titanic did when I watched that. It wasn’t the doomed love story of the leads that upset me so much (although, come on, of course there was room for Leo on that giant plank of wood) as the scale of loss of life, all due to poor decision making and hubris, as well as bad luck.
Needless to say, I won’t be watching either movie again.
Also sleeping poorly was a colleague of mine that I was chatting to at work the other day. Any particular reason? I asked, or was it just free form anxiety? No, it was specifically about Trump. Now, I don’t know this coworker very well, so I wasn’t sure if he was worried for Trump after the recent botched assassination attempt, or that Trump is on course to become the next president of the free world once again. It turns out it was the latter, something I could have banked on since my colleague is not only intelligent and university educated but is also gay. But these days you can just never be sure, am I right?
