Fade to Grey.

People tell me time heals. They say memories fade. Does it? And do they? It is that day again that I mark each year on this blog when I recall. Recall memories as vivid as they were then. When I recall what might have been, and recognise my own failed mortality.

I read yesterday the tragic story of a young man described by his father and many others as "brilliant", who should have gone to Cambridge but instead threw himself in front of a train at Meldreth station just south of Cambridge. So young at 18, so so young. A sudden and unexplained descent into madness. Inevitably a charity was set up and like all the others it will change the world. Good luck!

That day in my life when I was oh so young and had a sudden and unexpected descent into madness is what I recall now. Was I brilliant? No. Was I good enough? No. Did I deceive everyone? My madness says yes.

I was just short of my 21st birthday when it happened. I'm now just short of my 47th birthday. I had a breakdown which started on the day that refuses to fade.

Today I am fading to grey. Some say I do brilliant things. Yet I doubt all the time. Even when I moved to Hertfordshire my fight back had been so phenomenal few could believe it. I was confident, bright and willing to fight for the mad.

Now I wonder. Was it worth it? I survived and sometimes I thrived. But did I ever get back what I lost that day? The artefects of that day are now at mine, rescued from dad's before they got lost in the move. Time doesn't heal it merely changes our perspective.

I have not collapsed into a morass of depression and despair as I once did on this day. No I'm contemplative. Sad. Tired. But different. It is my day I recall my own loss. Caroline told me once it was okay to mourn for ourselves. So today I mourn, tomorrow I go back what was once bright and is now grey.

I Heard a Voice.