Pale Fading Light.

Daylight was beginning to fade as I left my office this afternoon. Already the longer days are noticeable. That beautiful pale winter light on a bitterly cold, clear and crisp day has a certain fascination for me. As I get older I notice more about nature. Things mum knew but I dismissed as immaterial. Do we appreciate things more when we age? We become more forgetful but perhaps more observant.

The past couple of weeks have been pretty intense. Cramming students in and being told off for doing too much. Then not enough. I struggle with this shifting of sands, where do I stand? It is a relief today to learn once again that it is not just me that struggles with that sense of failure when people ask of us things we cannot deliver. Clearly others are mortal despite what my anxious mind tells me on the bad days.

There have been glimpses of bad days sometimes since I went back. Days when I ruminate on my own failure and inadequacy. But that is why I have my opera days. And today is an opera day. I've turned once again to Mozart having hit Handel and Puccini on Sunday.

With the long wait since I last got paid I have been cutting back and cooking off my ingenuity and skill to make last what is in my fridge. The temptations for spending sprees have been there and I  have lived and cooked a life of splendour in recent weeks. But I survived. Today it was Shanghai noodles with dried shrimps and spring onion oil. It was wonderful with an added dash of chilli oil.

At midnight my bank balance will be restored and I move on into the next pay cycle. I've done better than I feared.

The freezing cold will continue as we expect more snow tomorrow. As long as it doesn't disrupt my plans for travel. There is a Super Bowl to watch with Nigel and a catch up with Miriam. That will be good.

I Heard a Voice.

Gently Does It.

A week on from my last post the Rams are in the Super Bowl, the first snows of winter have fallen, the political turmoil is no further on and I'm a taking life very gently. No particular reason why, just fancied a quiet Saturday on my own.

I ventured as far as the butchers and did the washing. That is the sum total of my productivity today. Later I will return to my kitchen, having a go at a Cambodian pork curry with aubergines, coconut and pineapple tonight. The week in the kitchen has been good. Fantastic kefte kebabs on Tuesday and and my first ever Moussaka on Wednesday. That was equally fabulous. Tomorrow I will open my flat for hospitality and invite friends for roast shoulder of lamb.

At the risk of being controversial I suppose I ought to comment on the Rams victory on Sunday that took them to the Super Bowl. Yes it was a penalty. And yes it probably cost the Saints the game but the nature of sport is that it is wondrous but imperfect. How many games over the years might have been different had a refereeing call gone another way? Might the Rams have won Super Bowl XIV had a penalty not been called when the legs got tangled leading to a nail in the coffin by Franco Harris? Few can doubt that there should have been a ton of holding penalties when the Patriots held Marshall Faulk on virtually every passing play during Super Bowl XXXVI. That could have won cost us the game. Yes the Rams are my team but every supporter of every team in NFL history can point to similar game changing decisions. That my friends is sport.

Back in my world mentally I'm middling to up. Not too up and a little too neutral to be bored. That's okay though. With the exception of a Wednesday blip the working week has gone okay. Saw the therapist on Thursday, never really know what twists and turns that will bring each week. I will persist.

For now though it is Handel and my book until time comes to make curry paste. Have an amazing weekend and more soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Memories of a Bygone Age.

On this bitterly cold day I'm taking things gently. I've been to see the butcher, had a wander in town, bought a few things in Waitrose and returned home for a late lunch. Need to summon up some motivation to do some cleaning. Lunch was stir fried beansprouts with celery, dried shrimps, soy, rice vinegar and sesame oil. Not very filling but very tasty.

In truth my mind is elsewhere today. It harks back a few years to things that once were and will never be again. My mum would have turned 87 today. I vividly recall her last birthday, she turned 80. Towards the end of her life she became increasingly anxious and depressed and was put on citalopram. She asked me if I thought it would be okay to have a glass of wine on her birthday. Knowing she would be fine I told her so. But she didn't believe me and asked a GP instead. For reasons I do not understand he told her she would have to come of the medication at least a week before. So sad to deny her that and feed her already devastating anxiety.

Time has marched on since then. We are all a little older and greyer. Dad is flourishing though, busy busy, sometimes I have to tell him to slow down. But on this day we all remember.

There was an added shade to my look back at what was and what will never be again. The girl I call Rachel in my books visited in the night. Still a young woman as she was back when I last saw her she came in a dream and was kind. I rarely dream of her but sometimes she comes into my thoughts. We were so young back in those days. I have no idea where she is now or what she is doing. I don't think I will ever know. Cedric tells me to bury the past. But as my post on Thursday notes on occasion my past comes knocking and simply floors me.

A couple of days on from that I feel better although contemplative in a funny way. The rest of the day will unfold. I will clean the bathroom. Perhaps dust as well. Sarah is coming over after work for slow cooked ox cheek braised in red wine. I will as ever enjoy her company and go to bed a day older and maybe a little wiser. Enjoy your weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Pulling the Trigger.

At the weekend The Sunday Times published a piece by India Knight talking about calling people snowflakes in a derogatory way. The current generation of students is sometimes vilified as a snowflake generation. The press is littered with reports of student anxiety, of stopping free speech, accusations of being phobic if an individual says something another group disagrees with, and trigger warnings.

I've been telling my story in word and in writing for many years now. Some say it is inspirational. Others get tearful. Many are frightened to delve too deep for fear of what they will see of themselves in there. A couple of years ago a young woman walked out of a talk I did. Apparently it was too triggering.

Until today I didn't understand what that meant. Today I learned what it is like to have a trigger pulled. In a training session on Critical Incident Debriefing my mind raced not to the subject but to so many raw and painful things. It made me feel ashamed to be battle hardened in the mental health world, cynical and anaesthetised. I have seen so much death. Today it all came flooding back.

I'm haunted by the deaths of the students I have known. I feel self indulgent and narcissistic for thinking what the experiences of this world do to me rather than the experience of those I try to help.

To Cambridge, to Prague, to Granada, to Brighton, to Hythe. The well travelled itinerant that I am, never settled in a place or in relationship or in a society. I struggled to cope.

I did stick it out but won't go there again. For so long in my life I saw the troubles of my life in a negative light compared to those around me. But today it hurt and I acknowledged quite how much I have had to do in my line of work, walk away at the end of the day and be fine the next.

The last year has made me question so much. Although I'm in a better place now than six months ago there is still a nagging fear that I have to get out of the mental health business. What price do I pay? Too greater one on days like today.

When I got home I wanted to get out all the old photos from the days when things went wrong. I listened to Alison Moyet sing Only You and wanted tears to flow. They didn't. Cried too many tears over the years. Comfort food and Mozart are my solution. Maybe it is time for a glass of Chianti too.

See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Roast Chicken and Petit Chablis.

Greetings on a rather windy Sunday. How are you all? I'm doing great aided and abetted by the Rams mighty win against the Cowboys last night. And West Ham won. Marching on to the NFC Championship game the Rams have no need to fear anyone. They can go toe to toe with the best of them. And there are some good teams left.

In fine fettle I took a wander out to The White Hart and had a splendid pint of Ghost Ship. Back home now I have put on Offenbach's La Belle Helene and come to talk to you all. After that a belated reading of The Sunday Times.

A treat awaits after that. Roast chicken with new potatoes, carrots, sprouts and kale with some gravy. And to splash out...there is an advantage in going to Welwyn in that I could try out the fine wine shop there for the first time...I bought a good bottle of Chablis. So I will indulge my decadence on this quiet Sunday.

What will the week bring me? I signed off in style of Friday when someone came back to me who I thought had been poached by someone else. She told me she wanted someone who was neutral to give her advice. Counselling has its place as I'm discovering in my own sessions but sometimes people want advice; and counsellors do not give counsel. Rather they pose questions and expect people to come up with their own answers. If one over thinks talking in riddles may not help.

There is a long way to go but I got off to a good start. A week at a time is the most sensible way forward. Enjoy your Sunday and see you again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

After a Short Delay.

Not often I write on a Thursday. But also not often I listen to opera on a Thursday. This week has been shunted back a day so after a slight delay Idomeneo plays, E M Forster has been read and I'm nice and relaxed with a chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

The unspoken fear that quietly whispered to me when I last wrote on here has come to nothing. I'm a day away from completing week 1 of the new term. Semester A ends tomorrow. There is a week break then into semester B. Each is a little step away. They say that centuries are made in cricket by focusing on the next five to ten runs. Thus one accumulates and gets towards the destination. Nothing has phased me yet. It will at some point. The intense energy and confidence of my October high has gone. But I haven't slumped.

There have been moments, usually related to insomnia where for just a brief while I feared catastrophe. I'm not near that now. A decade to the week since I moved to this part of town I am part of society, someone that people talk about and some I suppose respect. Do I respect myself enough? Not sure really. I fear going over the top and being branded as I was all those years ago.

I went to The Fu Hao with Sarah last night. For some reason we got on to talking about A Pillar of Impotence which she bought a few months ago but has not yet plucked up the courage to read. I told her a few things she was not expecting. She was wondering how I turned out as I did after those days. I guess she respects me. I must learn to do so without borders constructed by the arrogance of psychiatry. I don't think I was the one with an ego problem Dr Rosen.

Why should I think of all this still after so long? That I suspect is why I agreed to go back into therapy. I saw him today after a month break. It was okay.

Not sure I have anything more to say today so until next time I bid you all well.

I Heard a Voice.

Gentle Saturday, Calm Before the Storm.

On this cold grey Saturday I'm having a very gentle day. Having done most of what I needed to do in the week I just finished the cleaning this morning. Woke very late as I stayed up long into the night to watch The History Boys. Need to get back into a routine for the coming of reality.

My friends were meeting in The Plume of Feathers for a bit of a session so having done what I needed to do I drove out and joined them for a while. Very pleasant pub in winter and summer, surrounded my lush farmland sitting in the garden with my puffer was very peaceful.

Home now I am listening to Haydn and just relaxing. Rare steak and Medoc are on the menu tonight. Tomorrow will be spent alone with some opera and the salivating anticipation for slow roast pork in the evening. It will I hope be the calm before the storm.

Come Monday morning I will need to get up and go back in. I'm told last week was quiet. Let's hope it is not too fraught. In a slightly unusual change from the norm I'm doing some filming that afternoon as some students are working on a film that is mental health related for their project and for YouTube. A year ago I simply couldn't have done it. But then a year ago I was barely leaving the flat. Now that my fear is less prominent we will see what happens. It will not be the first time I'm been filmed there but not been asked since the terrible coming of the all pervading anxiety and fear that descended on my life back in 2015.

I anticipate drop ins from people who have panicked in their exams. I do feel for them going straight into semester A exams after the break. Then time will fly to May for them and all will be over. Can it really be that I'm half way through my twelve year mark by then? All seems a life time away now that I packed up and moved here. Thoughts of going back home sometimes come to me but for now I will stick with what I know.

During the dark days of 2018 it never seemed possible I would ever resurrect myself. Now I suppose I have. Just need to keep going a day at a time.

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Moving Unscathed into 2019.

Greetings, welcome and happy New Year to you all. The first post of a New Year. After a magical but flawed night out I woke to no hangover, no rain, no anxiety and no ill effects of what was. Brunching on bacon from The Ginger Pig I decided to have a bit of a walk. Only a couple of miles but was quite invigorating. The saw throat is threatening to morph into a cold but so be it.

There was some relief on my part when Sarah text last night to say we would be having a late lunch. Will head over in the next hour for a planned kick off at around 3.30. Bit like Christmas all over again, late, long, leisurely lunch.

The days of my holiday seem to be passing so fast. Soon it will be back to the chaos. I wonder what has happened in my absence? Thoughts have started to creep back into my mind. Work has been put aside and must remain there at least until Monday morning.

As is often the case on Bank Holidays I do find myself at a bit of loose end. So the radio keeps me company until the time comes to go to Sarah's.

Hope you all enjoy the day and that 2019 proves to be special for everyone.

I Heard a Voice.