Giving up the Ghost.

When I saw my GP the Wednesday before last he asked me to leave my medication on the lower, going to work level, and see if in time I could right myself just by resting. Well I tried but things were so low yesterday I finally gave in and increased them. I slept well but as expected I feel pretty wiped out.

Realising that that route would take longer than the 2 days I have left off sick I went to the surgery with the intention of finding out when I can book an appointment to go back and see him a second time. He's booked out until Friday. So after midnight on Thursday evening I will once again be on the phone.

This is not the outcome I want or expected. It has never gone on this long since the advent of Risperidone in 2001. Lesson learned I suppose is that I need to trust my instinct and experience and increase it earlier. Dad and my friend Heather will both be pleased, each had urged me to take more time. Beka too. Question now is when will the guilt kick in? It has been less evident after getting signed off but I fear it will come back.

I did fill in my mood diary over the weekend. Almost all in the minus range. Yesterday not filled in yet, that was down to -3, the worst it has been in a long time.

We wave goodbye to November today. I will not look back at it with much relish.

I Heard a Voice.

Blustery Advent.

It is Advent Sunday once again. The winds are howling outside so it is not very enticing. I was invited to the pub for a brunch and to watch West Ham but in truth I just want to stay home. The St John's Advent Carol Service is being broadcast on the radio. I have listened to my King's recording as I'm wont to do on this day.

Normally a day I relish today I feel very under par. I have a chicken to roast but no desire to roast it. An evening of the NFL is unappealing but will be indulged in in the absence of any better offers. When will this downturn end? It is now 3 weeks since my sleepless Sunday night sent me down this rocky road to nowhere. Nothing I have done has dented this emptiness. Maybe I should have increased my medication after all. But it is too late now.

In theory I have 2 more long nights of sleep to go before a return. It's hard enough getting up at 11 am let alone 7.30 am. On and on goes this big sleep with no purpose or pattern. I just want to withdraw from the world.

But I must battle on for what else is there? Pay day tomorrow I suppose, I wonder if that will jolt me upwards? In the mean time, sit, read, listen and blot out. Not the makings of a great Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Puccini and Indecision.

For the first time in a while I have turned to Puccini for my accompaniment on a dull afternoon. Once again I woke very late as the tiredness dragged me down. I have done very little except some washing and shopping. The last hour has been spent perusing a number of my many cook books to decide what to do with some good chuck steak. I still can't make my mind but suspect I will revert to a curry.

It sums up my day, indecisive, detached and not very interested. Just a day for nothing really, not much worth going out for.

Another day ticks by towards my return. I feel no nearer to being ready for it than the day I saw my GP. When do I make decisions on what next? Leave and give it a go? Or plays safe, follow advice of those who know me well and take longer? Neither is very appealing.

So I listen to Puccini, think and do nothing. It is a nothing kind of a day.

I Heard a Voice.

Under Threatening Skies.

Another day has come and will soon descend into the black of night. They pass so quickly. It seems yesterday that I saw my GP and he ordered me to rest. More than a week on do I feel any better? Not especially. Apathy, lack of motivation, flat mood and endless tiredness still hunts me down.

On this Black Friday I ventured out into a town overwhelmed by dark threatening clouds. The crowds were out but less so than yesterday. Despite what it looked like I stayed dry and spent little. I couldn't find much I either wanted or I needed. Having sales a few days before pay day not always the best idea.

Back at home I have the joys of Eva Cassidy playing and am contemplative. Beka called earlier and she too urged me to take more time. I still have a few days but am very reluctant to extend my absence much longer. Even if I need it.

I still haven't dared do my mood diary for I know what it will look like. Wednesday seemed better but feels an aberration rather than a sign of recovery. Surely by now I should be shaking off the moribund exhaustion? Yet it persists.

So what to make of another weekend? It is my friend Jeny's birthday today and she has invited all The Hedgehog regulars. I will go for a short while but don't really feel in party mode. My friend Karen used to see me as a party animal back in those long lost days when I first moved to Hertfordshire. She had started at the University a few months before me. But she had grown up here so was integrated. I felt utterly lonely so escaped as often as I could to the many parties on offer. I don't get invited to many these days, getting too old for that.

I will leave you with but a single thought, in a month it will all be over and we face that long slow march of winter. Christmas will come and go, then on we go. I may come up for air at Easter after that.

I Heard a Voice.

Where did They All Come From?

There must be something in the air, the town was heaving today. True this country seems to have adopted the American institution that is Black Friday but that is tomorrow. I have no idea where all those people came from but it meant I stayed only a brief time, the anxiety was rising too much.

When I got home and mindful that today is Thanksgiving Day I glanced back at my post for last year. It too was bleak, ill and needing time away. The year before I recall mum before her final deterioration in her mental health doing a lovely turkey dinner when I lived at JB's in Folkestone. For that reason this day always reminds me of her. Even more so than the NFL feast that awaits me tonight.

This Thanksgiving Day I am paying the price for my adventure and over exertion yesterday. It was hard to get up especially after a return of the nightmares. I feel worn out as I write. Work is still popping into my head despite a concious effort not to look at my inbox. My students feel in need but I cannot meet that need at present.

So I content myself and listen to Offenbach. Not sure what I will read, do I start a new book, I brought 2 out or do I read a magazine? Or maybe a cook book. Talking of cooking I did manage to find some turkey to roast, curiously difficult to find. Then let the day pass.

My friend Heather called last night. The jungle drums of my downturn have clearly reached Kent. She urged me to take more time away. I don't think my fragile state will cope with being away that long, too much guilt. We will see I suppose. See you all tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Okay to be Okay?

On a day on which the sun shone through the crisp cold air I ventured out. For the first time in a while I got up a little earlier, felt moderately okay and took a chance on getting the bus to St Albans. It was a good day for it. Did the market, a Moroccan lunch and a return trip to The Lower Red Lion, then caught a bus home whilst still light. Is it okay to feel okay? Can I get through that feeling of being a naughty school boy and bunking off?

The truth is it has been a long time coming. It may lead to a backward step tomorrow but relishing the better days is surely better than decrying what I should have been doing under normal circumstances and beating myself up.

Back at home in the warm I feel rather worn out. A light supper of aloo gobi is on the cards, a rare venture into vegetarian food. Don't those from the Indian subcontinent do good things with vegetables?

An evening of the NFL awaits before the big turn that is Thanksgiving Day tomorrow. There are 3 NFL games on the cards then. I wonder if I could perhaps get a turkey leg to roast to celebrate with our friends from the USA? Hello by the way, you're still bringing in reader numbers each month.

Enough now, more soon.

I Heard a Voice.

The Struggling Pair.

It's dark already out there and the rain has been coming down gently all day. Well at least what I have seen of the day, it was mighty hard to wake up and after some days a little easier it was nearly lunch time when I emerged

Emptiness abounds in the main, not too low, around -1, not too anxious, I don't have a scale for that but I am functioning, but still the exhaustion goes on. It was not a wasted day though as the lovely Dory came to visit and took me to lunch at The White Horse. We only had starters and dessert but it was very good. A chance to catch up, she is really finding life tough too. That I can't get out of bed feeling is very prominent for her too. Even harder as she is a morning person. We both look tired and have little motivation to do much.

I'm still off for another week so no need to panic but I would have hoped there would be an upward shift by now. When will it come?

Despite only a light lunch I really am not hungry and cooking seems beyond me. I have in the main been cooking but not today. Perhaps just a sandwich. The pheasant came out well eventually, I had to put it back in twice as it wasn't cooked. Hugh Fearley-Whittingstall might need to amend his cooking advice, 30 minutes was way too short. I will try to remember for next time.

Tomorrow will be here soon enough. I hope to go to St Albans but not if I'm as tired as I was today. If not it will be another day staring at the TV-not much fun.

I Heard a Voice.

Changing the Record.

Hello everyone, I'm back on another chilly day with not much to entice me outside. Once again I slept longer than I should but managing to get up a bit better each day as I move further away from the chaos that engulfed me recently.

Not fancying going out much I returned to my staples of opera and reading. So far I have heard Verdi's Il Corsaro and Mozart's Apollo et Hyacinthus. The paper has been devoured mainly, just the magazines to go. And now in a complete cultural reversal I have put on a compilation of 80s electronic music. Much of the 80s was a musical desert but there are occasional gems. To my students the 80s are ancient history. To me it was part of sometimes fraught growing up. Opera to electric? That really is changing the record.

I had a lovely evening with my friend Jo yesterday. The chicken pie was delicious, the roast potatoes sublime (far better than I ever do) and roasted carrots glazed in maple syrup amazing. Her anxiety was for nothing. I'm my own worst food critic but can always praise the work of others.

Let's us hope I can match such wonders with my roast pheasant later. Dad is very partial to game and he cooks venison particularly well. I've never actually tried but maybe before the winter is out I will give it a go.

The big sleep will continue next week although I'm hoping to muster up enough energy to make it to St Albans market on Wednesday. Perhaps a nice Moroccan lunch at Little Marrakech. I think Miriam is back from her trip to Vietnam on Wednesday also. Missed talking to her over the last 3 weeks.

Wrap up warm out there and take care until I next post.

I Heard a Voice.

Afternoon Wanderings.

At last the sun has come out. It is bitterly cold out there and my heating came on for the first time yesterday. Still I wake late and feel exhausted. The anxiety dissipates a little with each passing day I just can't cope with little things going wrong. Not really sure about mood, a kind of nothing to -1. I couldn't face the mood diary in the end, maybe tomorrow.

Having been out for short shopping trip I decided to go for a walk then do domestic stuff. The walk was good but bitterly cold. Is this heralding winter? The domesticity will come after this post.

I have been invited to a friend's house for dinner tonight. Jo came to mine a couple of months ago and today is the return match. Chicken pie always goes down a treat. I'm  looking forward to that although for some reason Jo is nervous about cooking for me. I seem to have a reputation for cooking that is far beyond my real ability. I am fearless in the kitchen and usually it works but I am in truth no more than an enthusiastic amateur.

On my walk I saw that the local church has an Advent Carol Service next  week, I might go along to that. Advent is always good.

Then on to another week at home catching up on precious sleep. I need to reduce how much I'm getting if I'm to have any chance of surviving a return the week after. But there is time for that.

Tomorrow there is roast pheasant on the menu, the first game of the season. The butcher had a marvelous 4 rib joint of beef today, at well over £100 it was a bit too much for me. My next beef may have to come from Waitrose. As a sop to my usual decadence though I bought a bottle of Barolo, may have a small glass with my pheasant tomorrow.

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

On Edge.

I had a very late start on another wet and dull day. There were dreams, bad ones about work, but I still couldn't get up. It was lunch time when I emerged. Determined to do some tedious domestic stuff and tax my car. The latter was done fine but when I got home I had a horrible suspicion I had wrecked the washing machine. I'm sure it is fixable but it has set me on edge. Why do little things things become big things when one is not in a normal mental state?

So a shaky afternoon figuratively and physically. Donizetti's opera Roberto Devereux is playing on the radio. I'm trying to read but not getting far. With luck some fine food will improve things for me when the time comes.

I really ought to fill in my mood diary this afternoon although knowing it will be overly in the negative field I'm rather putting it off. Physically seeing how challenging things have been mood wise reinforces the low mood-not so good.

What will tomorrow bring? More rain? More guilt? More exhaustion? I need to be patient and confident that things will lift for me. They always do. Yet I'm impatient for change. Sleep will help but I fear I need more than that. How do I regain what little confidence I have at times like this? I swing from one extreme to the other. And I see it so often in my students yet why can I not follow what I preach? What is it they say "healer, heal thyself"? We make bad patients. I'm missing the governors meeting for the Trust tonight, I simply don't have the energy. Well I suppose they will have to do without me.

Perhaps I will blog tomorrow. I'm sure people are bored of my ramblings when I'm finding the going tough. Stick with me and with time I will get better.

I Heard a Voice.

A Day Later

Pale sunlight illuminated the morning sky here. The storm is over and other than some boxes littered across the car park at the back of my flat little damage has been done. It has all clouded up now but it was nice while it lasted.

I finally managed to see my GP this morning and as expected he told me to take a break. This time for 2 weeks rather than the usual 10 days of past difficulties. The curious thing is is that I'm low but not that low, I'm anxious but not that anxious. It is more a feeling of being completely burnt out. The twins evils of mood and anxiety would I suspect have got worse had I carried on so being ordered to break is probably what I needed. The thorny question we face though as he pointed out was how do we go forward from here? A rest is merely a sticking plaster although admittedly not as severe as ramping up the medication and blowing me aware for a few days. I guess things need looking at when those 2 weeks are up.

In the meantime it gives me time to read, I anticipate completing The Quiet American this afternoon, listen to opera, Lucio Silla at present, and getting on top of the 4 NFL games a week I'm currently recording. But above all it is sleep I crave. So let's find a balance.

My culinary endeavours have slowed down recently but today I will do a lamb shank tagine and tomorrow pork chop with sage, shallots and cider-a little something to look forward to.

I Heard a Voice.

A Winter Storm is Brewing.

As the black of night descends on my part of the world the wind is howling and the rain brewing. Whilst other part of the UK were hit by storms last week where I live is being struck for the first time. Is this the first sign of winter?

My life seems to teeter on the edge of a mental winter. I have tried to work this week but was sent home early today. They told me to take tomorrow off. My musings are decidedly odd at the moment. My thoughts are not raging as they usually do. I feel very heavily medicated despite being on my normal working levels. The plan is to see my GP tomorrow-they tell me he has some slots if I ring after midnight. If he tells me to take time away I will feel like it is a defeat. Can one lose at mental health? After so many years in the main winning when the madness fights back I always feel I have been defeated.

People have been hugely supportive which is great. I never expect that. My friend was laid to rest yesterday. It's not a phrase I use but I'm ashamed to say I do not know whether he was buried or cremated. Just as I feel ashamed it is so many years since I saw him. Another thing to beat myself up over.

Will a rest help? If so can I manage the inevitable mental desert I will face if I max up the pills? That is the swiftest way to right myself. I guess I will see what my Doctor says. He usually lets me decide but he has been known to order me to stop when I wanted to battle on. The fear of how much worse things could get will inevitably guide his guidance. Let us hope I can get a slot.

I Heard a Voice.

A Weekend of Loss.

There is little more I can add to the outpouring of comments, tears and anger following the terrible events in Paris on Friday. Words cannot convey my feelings. I try not to be political on here but the spectacle of war unleashed all those years ago just goes on. In the West here we hear of Paris. Yet in Turkey, Lebanon and of course Syria itself the agony is rarely reported over here. I do not see an end. Nor am I important enough to change anything other than by my humanity, humility and gratitude for being a relatively safe place.

Much closer to home I had a more personal loss. Readers of A Pillar of Impotence may recall several references to my school friend Trapper. When I had my breakdown he simply invited me to stay any time I wanted. Out in the country with his family is was like manna from heaven to get away. As ever I overdid it and found myself separating from that life in mid 1990s just as Trapper was diagnosed with his own terrible illness. I regret not going back in times past. Now it is too late. He succumbed last week to MS after a battle lasting nearly 20 years. Few people I have ever met were as kind, generous and warm hearted as Trapper.

And what of my life on this dull Sunday? Going to dad's was a good plan. I should have gone earlier. Yet as we head towards Monday and what is expected a return to work I remain dog tired, my anxiety is building and my mood is at best apathetic. Back to deciding in the morning I suppose. Let's hope I sleep. The nightmares came back last night. The last thing I need.

May report back tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Glimpsing the Sun.

For a few hours there this morning the day looked brighter. Barely seen the sun physically or mentally for days. When I eventually did emerge after another troubled then extended sleep it was lovely to see that sun. It's all gone now and returned to the dull grey of the recent past.

Having held off all week in the hope of a swift return to reality and normally I have finally conceded that I do need to increase my medication at least for the time being. The nether world of nothing is beckoning. It is a horrible place to be but sometimes a necessary evil to right the un-right.

Not sure how that will impact on my visit to see dad tomorrow. Having made that decision to abandon this week to the greater good I will probably have a less frantic trip down. Sleep will no doubt feature heavily but it will be good to see him in waking moments. With luck by Monday I will be back on track assuming I didn't leave the increase too late. I should really have done it earlier.

When I do get back I will have to arrange someone to come round and fix my door, in danger of being locked out of main part of flat owing to a failed catch mechanism. These things are sent to try us. In the meantime the door remains propped open, colder but safer.

This afternoon I'm once again with Handel, the oratorio Israel in Egypt. It's so gloomy even now I think I need a light on to read. Read and pass the slow hours. Why does time slow down when I'm struggling?

I probably won't post again until I'm back, dad is having some problems with his PC. So see you all in a few days.

I Heard a Voice.

Guilt and Opera.

Is there any way of stopping feeling fraudulent and guilty when one is depressed? My re-entry into that world of low depressed guilt is now in its third day. It has not been quite so grey out today but that empty detached feeling continues. I'm dead tired but sleep remains hard to come by at the right time. People tell me I'm right to stay off when like this yet all I feel is that I'm letting people down and conning them.

Thus far I have resisted the increased medication. Fight on as best I can despite that foolish thought that all around me think I'm making it up. For all those years I lived as that man who did nothing because he was mad. Now I do a lot but not all the time. Is it so wrong to need a few days away? Probably not but all the same it hurts.

To fill my afternoon I'm guiltily listening to Handel's Sosarme, Re Di Media. It seems I'm not alone in my setback, both Dory and Hannah are also battling the same demons at the moment. I must still eat though so I'm braising a ham in cider which I will later stud with  cloves and glaze with demerara sugar and mustard. My appetite diminishes when I'm like this but I usually manage to eat something.

What will tomorrow bring? An upturn I hope. I tried and failed to get a Doctor appointment today, do I try again for tomorrow? Maybe I will feel better. In the meantime I fight the emptiness and slowing of time for I know I will right myself sooner or later. A weekend with dad is looming, a change of scene will be most welcome.

I Heard a Voice.

Day Night Reversal.

Once again on a dull grey autumn day I find myself alone at home. It was another bad night. Almost wrote a post at 4 am. When it got to time to get up I couldn't. So again I abandoned the day and tried to get my precious sleep at the wrong time.

Whilst I made it up earlier than yesterday I'm still flat, detached and anxious. The usual guilt of not working is adding to my anxiety. But what would I achieve if I went in? Tomorrow I'm supposed to be teaching and have done no preparation. I'm not up to doing it now. So do I make a decision on that today on the basis that tomorrow may be bad?

A couple of my most disturbed students over the years have gone into complete day night reversal. I have never gone that far but I feel part the way there now. The question is how do I stop it? In truth I need to make a decision on medication consumption. The right thing to do is increase for a few days but that would sacrifice those days. If so do I empty my mind and enter that pale nether world I fear so much? If I do nothing and things get worse I will be forced into doing that. Not much of a choice is it?

I am lucky that my mental illness is under control most of the time. But when it goes it goes. Am I there yet? I'm on the cusp. In a way I'm surprised it didn't happen before. All the signs have been there. Yet I fought on. Once the sleep is sorted then maybe I will be back in control. May it happen more quickly than I fear.

I Heard a Voice.

Paying the Price.

It is hard for me to describe how much I fear insomnia. Sleeplessness haunted me throughout my illness. That has been countered somewhat since going on Trimipramine 20 years ago on doses so high that most would not wake until the evening. The power of the sedation means I need to reduce the dose in the week to go to work.

You may recall my long sleep yesterday. Although I have been doing better mentally I have been tired. Some days there is a price to pay for sleeping late. Today is one of those. Tormented by insomnia and anxiety I barely slept last night. The biggest indicator of relapse is not sleeping. And so with each passing hour my anxiety grew.

A little after 7 am I gave up the ghost and abandoned the day. I hate taking time away but the levels of anxiety were so great I had to give in. It was no coincidence that my week 1 meltdown came the day after a night of no sleep.

Whether this is a portend of disaster or not I don't know. It has been a day of flat mood, listless thought and a sense of letting people down. And it is so grey out. I don't even feel like eating so have cancelled my planned dinner out with my friend James.

Let us hope tomorrow brings a rising of mood, a lessening of anxiety and an increase in motivation. An aberration of illness is okay to manage as long as it is just that, a passing day in many.

I Heard a Voice.

And Slept On.

God it was hard to get up today. There were many awakenings all of them gentle unlike the smoking days but try as I might I simply couldn't get up. I have no idea why I'm quite so tired today. Is it an accumulations of the stress and angst of such a tough term? It has indeed been tough. But why here and why now? It was gone midday when I finally emerged and I could have quite happily slept another few hours.

As you will recall Sundays are my me time, world go away days. I'm in the company of Figaro today. Is that the most sublime of Mozart's operas? I have a great love of the frivolity of The Magic Flute and the darkness of Don Giovanni. But I love Figaro too.

I realised yesterday that time until Christmas is very limited. In fact I only have a single free weekend between now and then. Miriam is away in Vietnam for the next few weeks but will join us at Christmas. Next weekend I will get on the train to visit dad, can't believe it was July last time I was down there. Must give some thought to presents at some point.

Another week starts tomorrow. On paper it looks calmer than of late. But that could well change. So I will make the most of my Sunday, roast pork, Rioja, a good read and my old friend Figaro.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Exactly Going to Plan.

To say that today has not quite worked out is putting it politely. I was rudely awakened by the Jehovah's Witnesses. Anyone can have a faith but don't push it on me. Dory was brought up a Jehovah's Witness and by God did she pay a price. Her response was somewhat ruder than mine. Forcibly up I was confronted with a foul day of pouring rain and driving wind-not getting the bus in that to St Albans to trudge round and get soaked as I planned. I bought some shopping only to find a tin has a small puncture in it and was leaking beer all over the back of my car. The recycling seems to be minus the can collecting bit so that didn't work out either. And I got soaked.

Despite these minor setbacks I'm actually feeling somewhat upbeat. I don't know why, I just am. I managed to get some nice braising steak from the butcher to have beef bourguignon, some shoulder of pork for tomorrow and some good chipolatas. I don't eat sausages often so it will make a change.

Not sure now whether to listen to opera or just chill with the TV. I suspect the latter will be what I end up doing. A nice cup of Earl Grey tea will not go amiss. Then on to cook.

Much to my surprise the sun has just emerged from behind the dark clouds and we almost have some day light. Hurrah. Until tomorrow .

I Heard a Voice.

The March of Time.

A picture popped up on my Facebook feed last night. It was taken in 2011 and showed me signing copies of A Pillar of Impotence at the launch event in Kent as part of Folkestone Book Festival. I'm struggling to come to terms with how fast it has gone. I certainly look younger and slimmer in the photo. It was a glorious night 4 years ago to the day. Not just for celebrating the end of my long quest to be published. But there was another more significant moment that night. I saw my mum smile. And I knew at the moment that after years of conflict we had made peace. She died suddenly 4 months later.

Cast your mind back to that time on this blog. They were hard tough times. I was just emerging from a significant relapse that had set me back. I was close to completing Charon's Ferry and suddenly my world changed forever. I cannot halt the march of time but I still remember.

I probably should have typed this post then. But I was out with Dory at the Fu Hao. We'd not seen each other since my birthday so lots to catch up on. We have both been struggling. But I'm still afloat.

Finally had a meeting on clarification on what has been going so wrong for me in recent months. The proof may or may not come to light in the next few weeks but it went better than I anticipated. Tomorrow I get to teach some psychiatrists. Aside from my usual fears about having enough material I'm quite looking forward to it.

I Heard a Voice.

Falling Leaves.

There's another gloriously sunny autumn day out there. It is true we have had some very wet days on and off this fall but the sun has popped out more than a few times. We enter November today, a month I associate with damp and cold. The pavements are littered with golden and red tree detritus, the fall as our American friends call it is well under way. In a month the bitter cold of December will hit us.

Time is going quickly. We have another 7 weeks of term. After the storm of the start not much has slowed down but I am still standing. It did not seem very likely to happen in those first few days. The frenetic pace is still not slowing. It has become a battle of endurance, a mental health stalemate during which I'm sort of holding back the onslaught but am in no way winning the battle.

And thus my Sundays remain so vital to me. I'm continuing my Haydn theme of recent weeks. Today's offering is L'Infedelta Delusa. Unfortunately there is a scratch on the second CD so had an unholy interruption. After that I will watch the Chiefs and Lions at Wembley. Hard to believe it was but a week ago I sat in that vast stadium.

I have a small chicken to roast for my dinner. I will fill the cavity with organic thyme and half a lemon. Then in but a little while it will be bed time again and this week's marathon commences. Did I ever envisage life would be like this in the days when I didn't work? There was a time when just getting a job would closed the circle and I would be healed. An optimism that seems so hollow now. But I do work and I no longer define myself as mentally ill. It is merely a part of me today.

I Heard a Voice.