It's all Charlotte's fault...

And so, to another day...

I'm having issues with my medication at the moment, should probably go to see the doctor, but that's the problem with depression, I really can't be arsed... I wasn't coping too well a couple of weeks ago: much shouting at kids, husband... So I decided to self-administer and double my dosage. Which hasn't really helped - just kept me awake at night, leading to complete exhaustion. What a vicious circle!

But blah, who cares?

Interesting article in the SMH which may explain my abiding love of literature. And my prostration at the feet of Charlotte Bronte... So women like a bit more angst, a bit more passion... A bit more Life in their preferred reading materials. Life in the B household bears this out: MrB reads history (mainly military), philosophy and theology. I read whatever I can lay my hands on... Am loving Jasper Fforde and Malcolm Pryce at the moment.

Actually I blame Charlotte Bronte for where I'm at right now. Blame is probably too harsh a word: but she definitely contributed... At the end of Jane Eyre she writes those famous words: 'Reader: I Married him' And that's the end of the story. After all the angst, the passion, the 'I can't live without him, oh I can but I'll go do good works in the mission field while married to a complete loser' she marries her Mr Rochester. And one assumes all settles into domestic bliss. Maybe I read Jane Eyre too young (age 11), or maybe I've read it too often (at least once a year), but after getting married at age 21 I've discovered there is no fullstop after the magical ceremony. It's then that the real angst, the real passion, the real hard work starts... I'll be sure to encourage my daughters to read Jane Eyre early and often, but I'll also be sure to tell them not to rush into marriage, not to expect the bliss to automatically follow the fullstop. Reader: I married him. And I still love and adore him, more than anything, but geez it's hard...