Pushing Back.

On this beautiful spring afternoon I'm listening to Stanford, cooking a Chinese goat stew and generally trying to switch off.

Finally this afternoon I took a step towards pushing back against the challenges and criticism that has become almost daily. Processes exist but I don't have a lot of optimism that it will work but I should have done this back in October when advised to do so.

I'm too trusting and too optimistic about change. Sadly some will never changed. It's hard feeling targeted but since October that's how I've felt. 

My psychiatrist asked me a couple of weeks ago if I was experiencing any paranoia. Whilst I don't think MI5 is trying to kill me or that a computer is controlling my mind I do feel there are moves going on intending to cause me damage. When I explained the context he rather agreed with me. Who wouldn't be?

Yet on this warm late Saturday afternoon I have done what I can. And it was the right thing to do.

Amidst all that my culinary adventures continue. Goat stew today, roast pork tomorrow. 

Let's hope the sunshine continues. 

I Heard a Voice. 

The Pages of Time.

What to say on this Sunday morning? The week has been one of tough reflection. Not easy with each day bringing yet more troubles.

Friday marked thirteen years since mum died. Today is Mother's Day. I've always struggled with that. Do I want to go back and look at the past?

My cousin Cedric always tells me to let go of the past. I think the past should let go of me.

The career that I worked so hard to get has been an emotional journey of highs and many lows. Currently lows are threatening to overwhelm me. But I will fight on.

The pages of time keep turning. Where next? At the moment I'm desperate for change for the present feels too painful. 

Picking out the good though Friday and Saturday were calm days as noted by others. Today less so as the dreams were bad.

Yesterday I went to Borough Market and had a lovely if expensive day. Great was the booty from that trip.

In the here and now I'm listening to Handel's The Choice of Hercules and about to cook roast chicken for lunch. My friend Gary is coming round. I'll take a nice lunch, good company and the sun shining for today's page in time.

I Heard a Voice. 

Toxic Comparisons.

One of the worst things I recall of a troubled, frightened childhood was constantly being compared to others and found wanting. My mum was the earliest protagonist in the debilitating, undermining and divisive destruction of my self confidence and self esteem. 

Then there was school where I vacilated between being a superstar...what mum wanted...and an out of control kid always in trouble. 

Now all these years after my breakdown people are staggered by the stories I tell and gaze in wonder at what I have achieved. Yet still the comparison goes on in my daily life at work and out of work.

My legacy of all that is when I have not done what I should at work, in my friendships and my daily life I always assume I'm the only one who is failing. 

It's only when I talk to others I realise they are struggling with the same things too. 

Mental health is massively exacerbated by isolation and feeling targeted. People say to me "why are you so hard on yourself?" Because that's all I know after years of expectation to be perfect. 

Since the autumn I have felt isolated, targeted and being told I'm to blame for things not going perfectly. If I seek perfection I, like everyone, will fail. Each time I succeed with something I'm told I did something else wrong. 

That does not lead to a healthy work, home and people environment. As a friend said during my 2018 crash stability is what matters. Life is made up of home, work and people. Instability in two is doable but in all three is impossible. At the moment I only have stability at home. Work and people are hard and not getting any easier. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Drizzly Sunday.

A day on there is no sign of the sun or spring. Drizzle falls outside my window. My mood is defeated and my lunch a disaster. Not a good day so far.

The saving grace though is Mozart and Chianti. I don't want to face the world today but I will.

The enormity of the last ten days is becoming clearer. Psychiatrist, work review, occupational health appointment, Red Kite, King's and its murky past is a lot to deal with in a short space of time. No wonder my emotional energy is at zero. 

What I must look at though is my wider life. My music. My books. My voice for change. My friends. And the good I have done by surviving nearly 35 years of mental illness. 

People listen to my words. Words have power whether used for good or ill. I try to do good. 

I share a trait with my amazing dad; that we never say no. At times it is our detriment. But we both do good a lot of the time. 

Tomorrow will come, and tomorrow I will get up and face the world. Get up, make my bed, open the window, wash, put my contact lenses in, brush my teeth, and go to work. That's what I do.

See you soon.

I Heard a Voice. 

Past the Equinox.

Greetings to an unseen audience. So few people are reading at the moment but then again I am not posting much. 

After a difficult few months the Equinox has brought spring. Are things getting any better for me? Not really but they've not got worse. My day of fate has been and gone and I'm still standing. 

Years ago when Risperidone changed my life it felt that getting a job would be the final piece of the puzzle. In fact it made life more complicated. 

I am controversial, outspoken, too honest but have the credibility to back it up. That doesn't always go down well with my superiors. I wouldn't want to manage me. Try as I might work to live I still really struggle to let go. I'm too invested in the world of mental health. 

Recently I completed re reading my two memoirs, A Pillar of Impotence and Charon's Ferry. They were far more emotive than when I last read them. My emotion is quite raw at the moment. 

They may get more so. Back in 2014 I wrote a post entitled Pandora's Box. In it I surmised that one day King's College Choir would be added to the last music schools where safeguarding did not exist. I became aware last week that the link has been made in public. 

The edifice is crumbling. When will it come crashing down? And what does that mean for me? For those who lived through it in the 1970s and 1980s? We all bare our scars and as one friend said in December "each year I heal a little more of the trauma". Some refuse to ever talk about the choir.

Survivors. But it is hard.

Today has been spent alone. I've been food shopping. Tonight there will be steamed snapper marinated in charmoula. Tomorrow roast rack of lamb. The cooking goes on. 

I Heard a Voice.

Drifting Towards Fate.

The days are ticking by on my journey. A date with fate is twelve days away. Am I anxious? Yes. My adventure of the last few years has not been easy. When there are clashes and power plays a huge part it is not a surprise that I'm struggling. 

Nothing has been easy since leaving the university in 2021. What my therapist described as "came changing" has been a rocky road. And I am still trying to take it one step at a time. 

I have no idea if I've done enough. That is the whim of those with power. What lies in store that day?

Back to today the sun is shining on a warm spring day. I'm listening to The Marriage of Figaro and have been reading. 

Shortly I will begin cooking roast beef for lunch. Even having a go at Yorkshire pudding. They don't usually work well in my oven.

After lunch I will watch the rugby in The Hedgehog with friends. 

Tomorrow can wait until tomorrow. Today I do today and try to thrive after a dream affected start to the day.

I Heard a Voice. 

Infernal Dreams.

Why am I so cursed with dark, anxious and at times horrific dreams? A day on from posting about finally achieving stability it has been swept away by such nightmares. It feels at times as if I'm I'm wrapped around with a heavy cloak of fear.

My most recent nightmare before today's was so bad it destroyed three days of my life. Not un-noticed a friend suggested I do EMDR work. I can access it for free. The older I get the more my trauma history is opening up. Some parts I have long acknowledged. Others have only been open for 18 months.

I've spent more than two decades opening Pandora's Box for others, catching the demons and helping people put them in a safe place. I failed with Charlotte and now she's out of my life.

Yet who catches my demons? And there are many to catch. At the funeral in December a friend said as each year passes he heals a little of his trauma. Remember each Christmas when you watch Carols From King's or listen to Nine Lessons and Carols it was not without a price.

Another King's reunion beckons in April. Last year was tough for me because the truth is close to coming. It was also the day Charlotte picked up my messages which a few weeks later led her to walk out of my life.

Yet on this sunny Sunday afternoon I have The Magic Flute, I have Elizabeth David and I have my kitchen. There are small mercies even in difficult, anxiety ridden times.

I Heard a Voice.