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.
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