Roast Chicken and Mozart.

It has been a funny weekend. I have been exceedingly tired and my sleep has switched into deep sleep mode. I found work on my mind up until today. Things are just a little too overwhelming at the university. There is simply too much to do and too little time to do it. Every time I think I have an hour to catch up the phones ring or I have to respond to urgent e mails. Simply put it is unsustainable at the moment. I have requested a meeting with my boss although I have no idea how to alleviate the pressure.

This weekend was meant to be wind down time. I went to meet my friend Katherine in China Town yesterday and was treated to the Lion Dance in the restaurant we chose. Good food but a little pricey. Still didn't switch off though.

Today thankfully has been more leisurely. I roasted a chicken, bit disappointing though as I overcooked it. But a friend brought an excellent French white wine round. Rarely drink white but Chateau le Bernet Graves is well worth it-in Sainbury's for £9.99. Lunch and wine was accompanied by a great recording of the Magic Flute.

But sadly the weekend has gone far too quickly. It is dark and raining and there is only a matter of time before I am back into the maelstrom of week. Oh well, I guess that is what I get paid for.

I Heard a Voice.

Where are my Shades?

For any of you out there who know me, you will know that I am usually to be found in daylight hours with shades on my head. If there is a merest hint of sun, even in winter, the shades come with me. This is a legacy of my descent into madness 21 years ago that has left me with permanent sensitivity to light.

When I awoke to leaden skies and light rain I made the decision that I didn't need them. That proved to be a big mistake. It proved to be a day of oddities.

Since I returned from Christmas and more latterly my mum's 80th birthday last week my workload has simply been unsustainable. Today's plan was to finally catch up on some notes-I have done none since the holiday-to meet with our campus policeman-even 4 years in I still find that disturbing-then meet up with my new supervisor.

For those who don't work in mental health we all have supervisors in the field. I sometimes wonder who supervises the highest of the high, God perhaps? Up until this year I had a brilliant Polish psychiatrist called Jacek. Sadly owing to other work commitments he has had to bow out and I met a prospective new supervisor just before Christmas. Today was our first official meeting.

I was somewhat alarmed to see the sun blazing strongly as I set off. It proved an eventful journey. My satnav fell off the windscreen twice freezing each time. When I got to my destination not too bothered by the sun I had my first exceedingly minor bump in my otherwise pristine car-never have been very good at reversing. Then the satnav fell apart and I thought I had lost a screw. So it was not a good start.

Our meeting proved to be excellent if slightly alarming. It shows one never knows when one might miss something in my field. Fortunately she was extremely open and helpful and allowed me to get a greater understanding of what is a very risky situation. She also raised alarm about the safety of me and others with a caseload that big. I wonder where I go with that.

Meeting over I then had the most alarming drive back into the setting sun and prayed for my shades. I arrived back home to shop. By chance I went into Debenhams and another abnormal thing happened, a pair of Levi 501s that fitted for £30! Still less disturbing than the rest of my abnormal day.

Now ensconced at home in the warm. Consumed some splendid prawns with chilli and black beans that I cooked and marvelled at how good Norwegian Jarlsburg is with Italian prosciutto. Does that make me a truly multi cultural man?

I Heard a Voice.

And Descended into Hell.

Exactly 2 years ago today a simple e mail from a man I had met once in Cambridge triggered the worst relapse I had had since I found risperidone in 2001.

It was not really as straight forward as bad news triggering my downfall. In reality my mood had been far too high for far too long. I do not get manic highs just little highs where I'm more annoying, more arrogant, more judgemental and I generally piss people off. But the lesson I learned then was that I couldn't be too high for too long otherwise I would burnout. Now I have people looking out for me as I find it is hard to admit when I'm ill.

My GP almost had to twist my arm to make me take time off. I have no problem taking time off if I have the flu but I find it really hard to succumb to my madness. For 2 weeks I fought back against what I feared might happen. But it was a different relapse that time. There were no voices, no suicidal thoughts and I slept for 14 hours a day-normally I can't sleep when I'm ill. Yet it was worse than that, just a chronic feeling of emptiness and failure.

With hugely increased medication doses I started to pull out but then came the feelings that I was faking it. The fraudulence of depression. After those 10 days I returned to work part time for a few weeks then it was back to reality.

Even after all these years sometimes I think I imagined my whole illness. It is hard to accept when I am well that it ever happened. But it did and I have to live with that. Fortunately most of my life it just lurks in my mind. But I know one day it will come back.

And so to a quiet weekend. A little cooking, a Moroccan kefta tagine later, some boring domestic stuff and a catch up on TV. On Thursday I travel to Kent for my mum's 80th birthday. Hoping that will be fun.

I Heard a Voice.

What am I Qualified to do?

As you may well have gathered over the last 15 months of the existence of this blog I work in mental health and I have a mental illness. Today I had to sit in a room with 30 people all of whom have far easier jobs than mine but who get paid more than me. As you can imagine this is somewhat irritating. But sadly par for the course.

Someone said to me that it took her 8 years to qualify and this was the justification for the inequality that I experience every day of my life. But it got me thinking, what gives me the right-or is it qualification-to have the privilege of being let into profoundly damaged lives and more importantly to be trusted? And believe me there are many people out there who do trust me.

Well, I have a Cambridge Masters degree. I have a Post Graduate Certificate in Education. Oh yes and perhaps most important of all an NVQ 3 in Promoting Independence! You may well ask what the fuck is that all about? Good question and my answer is I have no fucking clue at all. Apparently it is equivalent to 2 A Levels! Actually have 4 real ones of those too.

In reality all of those are completely irrelevant. What is important is my life experience. How can one understand a voice hearer without being one? How does one understand being locked up behind iron doors with bars on the window without experiencing it? Who really knows what it is like to try to kill one's self without actually surviving such a trauma. That is my life, a life told in infinite detail in "A Pillar of Impotence".

I have been training for 21 years and I've done it the hard way. Surely that is worth more that spending 8 years studying Freud's bullshit and contemplating one's navel?

I will let you decide.

I Heard a Voice.

Work Away From Work.

As regular readers of this blog will have noticed I am passionate about what I do and also cooking. Sometimes working in mental health it becomes very hard to switch off at the end of the day. But that is where the cooking comes in. It is my de-stressor.

Many who I talk to are utterly fascinated by my working life but also think it is very dangerous. It is not really as I explain to most people that they are greater risk in a pub than they ever would be in my world. Where it gets tricky though is when I talk to people, they find out what I do and want me to sort their heads out. At times I feel I should run a clinic once a week in the pub although I suspect few could afford the rates I should charge.

A couple of months ago after a very long, intense and tiring I encountered just one of those scenarios. That was the last thing I needed on that particular night. But it happened anyway. A man I had never met before who by his own admission had had had a dubious past was almost in tears as he told me he had lost his business, his family, and his home. He told me his Doctor had advised him to take an anti depressant but men didn't do things like that. In my weariness I gave him my thoughts and left it up to him.

A couple of weeks later he had once again been in the pub and he told me he had started taking pills but they were not working. Once again I gave him thoughts and left it to him. With that I forgot all about it.

But last Thursday the past came back. Once again the man was in the pub. He asked if he could speak to me outside. When we got there he was overwhelming in his gratitude to me. He had taken my advice and was now doing really well. We talked about how the pills worked and that they would not take his past away from him but if they helped which they clearly were to do it.

When we finished talking and prepared to go back inside out of the cold he offered his hand. Then he said "no, that's not enough, I should hug you".

It is days like that that I feel I have achieved something. For me those days are fairly frequent but it is a greater pleasure to help a stranger who I knew was at risk of being let down just as I had been all those years ago.

Back in reality I have now completed the Kent sections of "Charon's Ferry". Great sense of achievement there too. Now for a quiet Saturday of Thai belly pork curry courtesy of Gordon Ramsey then the start of the NFL playoffs tonight. A good way to end my long holiday.

I Heard a Voice.

Retracing My Steps.

A decade ago my life was very different to the one I lead now. My destiny appeared and planned to be a teacher. Yet now in the second decade of the 21st century I only rarely teach and spend most of my life sorting other people's heads out. That search for a job back then eventually proved futile although I have met many since who I have been able to help who are very glad I did not become a teacher.

But that search did take me to some interesting places. And one of those places was St Albans. Yesterday I found myself in the very same pub I had stayed in way back then. It was warm and welcoming with a roaring fire and a friendly landlady. I asked if they still rent out rooms and recounted my previous stay. Her response was to say that some feel we should never retrace our steps. But I rather enjoyed my trip down memory lane. Fate took another route back to Hertfordshire and the Doom Bar ale was particularly good.

So here I am with my first post of 2012. I'm coming to the end of my long holiday. Back to work on Monday. Yes I have been cooking, eating, and drinking for Europe whilst I have been off. But I have also made great progress on the book. I have managed to write about 12,000 since my holiday started. One more chapter to do and then that part is complete.

This book has in the main been smooth sailing. But I guess the content is easier when describing being well. Long may my wellness continue.

I hope that also applies to my readers-good luck for the New Year. I wonder where we'll all be at this time in 2013?

I Heard a Voice.