Ripple Effects.

None of us live in total isolation. We are all interconnected in a complex web of people, work, home and the interactions we have every day. When I entered the mental health system on a stifling July day in 1991 I kept being told not to become institionalised and must be independent.

That I ended up there was in part because one person made a decision that exploded what I know now was my very fragile life. Still to this day I have no idea why she made that decision.

She's gone from my life now but she lives on as a central player of my first book A Pillar of Impotence and on certain dates. But I'm still vulnerable to the decisions made by others that impact me, my shattered self esteem and my incredibly negative way in which I view my life.

This week has been another devastating one, a mangled wreck of overthinking, doubt, fear, paranoia, intrusive and obsessional thoughts and general you are bad and undeserving. And on and on goes my mind.

On this Sunday morning I'm listening to Mozart's Coronation Mass and trying and failing to switch off. Yet I've done the washing, had my coffee, put my lenses in, brushed my teeth and made my bed. A lamb shank will go in the oven shortly. The nitty gritty of life. Hard though it is I must keep fighting through, doing and surviving despite the emotional turmoil that is in my hesd.

I Heard a Voice.

Stay Silent?

Today I do not know what to say. I need to say something but for once I cannot find the words.

When life patterns keep repeating it is hard not to turn it inward and look at oneself. Guilt and shame. I've battled those for years. Last year someone actually explained the difference in words I understood. Guilt is I made a mistake which I can do something about it even if it is only an apology. Shame is I am the mistake.

My feeling that I am the mistake, that I'm the mistake feels very strong. And it is very painful.

Letting people into our lives makes us vulnerable. Maybe that's why some seek solitude. In a lifetime littered with mistakes, self inflicted pain and rejection I might have learned from those mistakes. Yet still I make them and on days like today I enforce solitude despite the pain that causes.

I have long tried to avoid responding when I'm angry. But whilst I'm sticking to that I know I have to respond sooner or later. I just don't know when, how and what.

Life feels bleak today despite listening to Mozart, a table booked at The Waggoners and the Rams game later. Just get through one hour at a time.

I Heard a Voice.

Winter's Progress.

Sunday morning in Hertfordshire. Beethoven plays. There is a pheasant stuffed with bay, rosemary and thyme and wrapped in bacon in the oven. All is peaceful at mine. My friend Marie has been staying this weekend. She'll catch her train home after lunch. It has been a good weekend.

Whilst I'm at peace the wider world crashes on in its destructive way. The west is divided. The east is at war. And somewhere in the middle Europe teeters in a precarious position. What was known is no longer certain. Who can trust whom?

My thoughts go to many as this winter progresses. At this time to Persians as well as people caught up in war. I have a couple of Persian friends. Who knows what will happen to this most ancient of people?

In my quiet, peaceful flat I'm lucky. My working life has improved immeasurably. Others though are feeling vulnerable. Why do we make work so hard on ourselves? Thursday takes me to The Royal College of Psychiatrists. I've been before but a long time ago.

As for today, when alone I look forward to watching the Rams in the playoffs in Chicago. Going to be mightily cold. 

I Heard a Voice. 

New Year, What Next?

A year ago my life felt brutally grim. The vultures were circling, betrayal surrounding me and never knowing where the next knife would come from. Everything was a complete mess. Not being able to switch off for the holidays had happened three years in a row. It has been a bumpy ride since I left the university in 2021. All around me people advised me to get signed off by the doctor.

Ultimately I held off for five months before collapsing into a mass of despair, self doubt and staring inside the gates of hell. The day I went off I feared at best the crisis team turning up, at worst a Mental Health Act assessment.

Hour by hour, day by day, month by month things turned around. I lost friends, some I expect for good. But those who stuck by me really stuck by me. I gained new friends too. Somehow after four months I tentatively made it back to work.

With a different direction that I was not able to predict slowly I began to flourish. It was hard. But I took it one day at a time. As 2025 moved inexorably towards its end I learned my destiny. A new job, a chance to be a pathfinder and an opportunity to do some good.

As we start 2026 I made it through the holidays, saw family and friends, dined and drank without fear. Nearly four years of fear. Life is hard but I'm keeping going one step at a time.

Happy New Year everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

Travelling Home Tomorrow.

A gloomy Sunday morning by the sea. I can hear the traffic outside along with the noise of the oven fan. Shoulder of lamb with garlic, rosemary and thyme slowly roasts in said oven. And my dad is at church.

Alone at home I reflect on a glorious few days on the Kent coast. Marred only by bizarre dreams and obsessive thoughts there was none of the devastating fear and overehelmed drama of the last three Christmases. In part that is clearly driven by a change of manager and new direction in work.

I do not return to that until 5th although I do drive home to Hertfordshire tomorrow.

People and food always light up Christmas for me. And both lights have shone brightly. I do not fear 2026 as I did 2023 and 2025. What will be will be but I have the autonomy to at least partially shape what comes up. That is good.

Now just got to enjoy my final full day away with roast lamb and a friend's party.

I Heard a Voice.

Christmas Goose...and a lot of wine!

A day late I bid you all a Merry Christmas! We had a magnificent day of the pub, roast goose, a walk to the beach, Christmas pudding and mountains of cheese and wine.

Christmas has a mixed past for me. Singing up until Christmas Day as a child, the dour, sober and stressful dinners of mum's time, the darkness of my depression, the joys of long, lazy wine filled lunches since 2012 and dining alone during lockdown in 2020.

Three years ago today under intolerable work pressure my mood fell through the floor and my anxiety overwhelmed me.

Today we just are. Miriam and Nigel are off for a pre lunch walk. They drive home after lunch. I will take a post lunch walk then a couple of pints. Gammon and potatoes are roasting in the oven. Heritage carrots and sprouts will go with them along with gravy and English mustard.

On Monday I drive home. Big New Year's Eve party in The Hedgehog.

I Heard a Voice.

Brutal Year Ending by the Sea.

A bitter wind is sweeping in from the east. It chills me to the bone going out although the disposition is sunny. I'm down by the sea as this incredibly difficult last year winds towards its inexorable end.

A year ago things were extremely difficult. They got more so as spring came and I finally did what everyone had been telling me to do and go off long term sick.

By all accounts I'm much more stable now. That said with a new job, yet to be defined, there is hope for 2026. And trepidation.

Down here on the Kent coast our small family is together. The shopping done, the fizz on ice, the goose ready for cooking tomorrow and ragu tonight. I just bought some Chianti to go with it.

The world remains a troubled place of war, natural disasters, climate change and dangerous political chaos. Polarisation in mood, sentiment and belief makes it more dangerous. The haves get richer and the have nots get poorer and hungrier. Will stability come?

For now I leave you. Thanks for reading in the silence of blogland.

I Heard a Voice.