The Twilight of Madness.

Many years ago I used to go a small Italian restaurant called Il Vaticano in Canterbury with my mum. Funny really as I've never like Italian food. But I liked it there and always asked for the coffee with the froth and chocolate after-I could never remember the word cappuccino. As I sat in the Fu Hao at lunch time with satay chicken and a Tsing Tao my mind wandered back to those days and to mum. Strange.

On a bright spring sunny day I find myself in the twilight of my madness. That area of dusk when I'm not quite ill but there is no light, only gloom. Last night my mind was aflame with thought and bad feelings. After a huge increase in medication I have no feeling. A few thoughts keep popping into my mind but they do not stir emotion.

Yes emotion, that thing a counsellor once told me I didn't understand. Bollocks. When I increase my medication it is to kill that emotion. It is too bad to contemplate. I'm not good but at this stage it could go either way. Do I descend or fight back? At present there seems little to fight back for. I found myself wanting to do what I call mental cutting last night. You know where you read, look, listen to things that cause pain. That is my self harm.

I do not want to talk to the world. My phones are off and will remain that way for a while. I can write on here since my audience has deserted me. Another small thing in a litany of life not going well recently. I'm also exhausted. It crossed my mind that I have not stopped being ill or working since Christmas. That is a long time. What goes up must come down. And I am down.

To try to stave off catastrophe on this long weekend I will return to my kitchen and cook my way out of it. Roast pork, parsley soup, lamb tagine, ribeye steak, and Thai belly pork curry will adorn the table I don't have over the next few days. I will stay put-tube strike on Monday has put paid to that plan-and wait it out. So if any of you see me and I don't speak, this is what mental illness is about. Utter loneliness and isolation. Let us pray the risperidone works its magic soon.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Perhaps a little opera will help, Verdi's Falstaff plays as I write.