Speaking in Tongues.

There's a blog I have following for over a year now written by a young woman under the name of Izzi: http://juggleglass.com/ . She put a post up a week or so ago with the lyrics from a David Bowie that I know well by have never taken the time to explore. Not sure what it is called but it talked about being safer with the madmen rather than the rest of the world. Prompted by this I contacted Izzi last week and commented. A most interesting woman. One of things that attracted me to her blog was that it is predominantly about mental illness and university. Of course that is precisely what I do.

But what was quite diffuclt to hear was how lonely she feels in her illness. It got me thinking. I see nearly 100 students and staff a year. Some are mentally ill and some struggling mentally. But none of them know each other. I remember doing my PGCE in 1999/2000 and keeping my illness a secret. How different it might have been if I had spoken out.

There is something about living with mental illness. We have our own language; the words are the same but have different meanings. One of the great strengths I have in my work is speaking that language, the language of foreign tongues.

Yesterday I spent time with 2 friends in London. Both have a mental illness and there was something very safe about being with them. Almost like being home. The hardest part of my recovery was stepping from the mad world into the world of the sane. I am eternally grateful to my friend James for getting me to do that. Now I live in both worlds. I didn't change side in the world of mental health; I merely climbed to the top of the barrier that divides them from us and looked both ways!

So to a quiet Sunday. I went to a country pub to indulge my new found passion for real ale with a friend and am now roasting a ham for dinner-it smells most splendid! And there's a honey glaze to go on there for the last 30 minutes.

I Heard a Voice.