The Scornful Drunk.

Those who read my blog last week will recall that exactly a week ago I had a rather better day but felt terribly guilty for so being. Today has not been a repeat of the former but definitely a repeat of the latter.

It has been a day after a bad night. A lot of dreams most of which were bad. Waking from that makes me feel even more tired, more anxious and think I'm more of a fraud. Many times I have spoken on here of my sense of guilt. Going somewhat stir crazy being home I did go for a drive in the country and stopped off for a drink. Cue more guilt. And with guilt comes the questioning.

Rarely does a day go by, good or bad, on which I did not question with much sincerity whether mental illness exists. Through my journey in the world of the mad most I have met were good people, damaged but good. There have been exceptions and invariably those people were also drunks. Not drunks in the sense that they drink more than they should. No, drunks who reached for the bottle the moment they woke up and were still going the moment they crashed into the uncertain sleep of alcoholism.

I knew a man once who was so angry his psychiatrist described him as an iconoclast. He was due in court for stabbing a man when I first met him. He was deemed fit to plead but he did not go to prison. Not only was he a nasty drunk he was utterly scornful of anyone who he deemed not to be mentally ill. Not so different from shrinks in a way but he was downright nasty. Today I thought of him in my condemnation of my own deluded weakness of pleading madness. Am I for real? Or was he right?

He may no longer be alive. His sidekick who he said was his friend but they fought as drunks do killed himself many years ago. Maybe said man joined him or drank himself to death. The last time I saw him was some time before I moved when he was so drunk at 9 pm the pub kicked him out and he was later arrested for drunk and incapable passed out in the High Street. I wondered what had happened to him in the in between time.

I struggle on today with that wavering belief. Haydn didn't help much even though I enjoy The Creation. Maybe Mozart can save the day, I think Cosi Fan Tutte after supper.

I Heard a Voice.