Good morning, it’s 5.45am here in the UK and I’ve been awake for over an hour… why? I would love to be able to give a reason but it’s just one of those things. One of those things that depression gives to me. Waking early, mind whirling with thoughts of everything, anything and nothing. Thoughts of things I want to do, things I can’t do, things I can’t change and things that really don’t matter. Sleep, or lack of, is a red flag, a sign that all is not well in my mind, a reminder that however positive I am about life in general, however happy I am, depression is there like a spectre in the darkness dragging me from my slumber, reminding me of the past, disturbing the present and fortune telling the future. So, 5.45am and I’m here writing with a chamomile tea and some toast, Christmas tree lights twinkling, the house silent apart from my fingers tapping the keyboard. If it wasn’t so early it would be blissful peace but instead I’m writing and wondering.