On a cold rather dull Sunday afternoon my mind is still working with thought but there is no emotion attached to anything. The demons have been halted in their tracks. The fiery rage has been extinguished. I'm neither happy nor sad. Such is the power of Risperidone. Mood is around zero but at least I have some thoughts. Sometimes hitting the brakes stops all thought at all. Not today.
My fear of having to take time off work if I need to take action may not have materialised but my intention to keep the medication high for a few days is likely to make it hard to wake up. Late is probably better than not at all. We will see what the morrow brings.
Having listened to Idomeneo I have now moved on to the Coronation Anthems. Yes our 1982 recording is marred by over excitement and sharp singing but is of almost mystical significance to me. My most disturbed experience of psychosis occurred in the summer of 1996 when I was singing Zadok the Priest in Chartres Cathedral and could hear Rachel's voice echoing round that vast space as the organ introduction played. So long ago. Even in the depths of my darkness yesterday there were no voices, neither her's nor that of the man that Ron Coleman once told me was the voice of my madness.
Ahead lies roast chicken, minted new potatoes, carrots, green beans, spring greens, gravy and a nice glass of Albarino. Probably some more opera to accompany that.
Who knows where I will be come therapy on Tuesday. I've been away from it a long time. Maybe too long. Despite my intention to retreat from the world this weekend very few people have tried to contact me in the short bursts of time when my phone has been on. What does that say?
Easter is next weekend. I get to listen to Allegri and Lotti on Friday. Then Sunday it is roast duck with Sarah. Might have to buy a couple of bottles of Medoc to go with that. Might see you all again soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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