On a grey but mild day England are victorious at rugby. Dominated the All Blacks and brought a smile to my face as I drank my morning coffee. After a tumultuous week I will settle for that.
The week was marked by long traffic jams on Monday, too much to do on Tuesday, desperate attempts to catch up on Wednesday and Thursday and utter intensity yesterday. So I was somewhat exhausted when I limped home on Friday afternoon.
What struck me more than anything was the loneliness that some experience in life. Mental illness can be a solitary place to be. Low, tired and unmotivated the darkness that envelops us in the dark despair can be shattering. The human condition encourages social activity. But for some that is near impossible.
My years following my breakdown were lonely. And when I moved here it was crippling at times. Yet all these years on as I remarked last time I am no longer alone. Well not if I choose not to be. Even then though I'm always surprised that others talk on me. I popped into Jo's niece's 21st birthday party last night and for the first time met her eldest son. And he knew who I was. Funny that people talk of me.
The rest of the weekend will be quiet. My friend Shelley is picking me up shortly and we are going to The Horns. Tonight I cook Thai prawns and tomorrow roast belly pork. The joys of being alone is that I choose. The Rams play at Wembley tomorrow so I will watch that.
Do enjoy your weekend and I'll see you all soon.
I Heard a Voice.
Saturday 26 October 2019
Sunday 20 October 2019
Welcome Home?
A light drizzle fell on a cold autumnal day. I'm tired but sated, hungry but full. After a very mixed week I was relieved to get to the weekend. Monday was a free day so I went to Borough Market. Spent more than I should but not overboard. I had a drink with my friend Julia after market then cooked roast wood pigeon on Tuesday. All went well the rest of the week then Friday came. I came home shell shocked, attacked and vulnerable. But I made it to end of the week.
The realisation that I've been here a long time came yesterday in the Two Willows. Under its previous incumbent and name of the Cork and Cask I returned to my old local from all those years ago when I moved here. My friend Marie was visiting and after splitting up for an hour or so to wander we agreed to meet in the pub. Whilst I was waiting for her a woman I did not recognise came up to me and said "I know you from years ago." I could only ascertain that we may have met in the very same pub back in the early days. Still unable to place her it seemed strange that I'm accepted here in Hertfordshire after the loneliness of those early days. I have a home but still feel itinerant. Should I have moved back to Kent a few years ago when the opportunity arose? I think I made a mistake. But I'm welcomed here, an outsider who did not go to Monk's Walk School. I do not know everyone here for my life. Yet they accept me.
As we move ever onward towards winter my life is still unsettled. Yes I go to work each day. Sometimes it goes well and sometimes it doesn't. I have a sense of fear for the morrow knowing how much catching up I have to do. Will the demands be beyond my control? Sometimes they are.
That can wait though. After roast beef for lunch with Marie, Ginger Pig bacon for supper, tomorrow is another day. I will worry about that in the morning.
Have a great week and I promise I won't be away so long next time.
I Heard a Voice.
The realisation that I've been here a long time came yesterday in the Two Willows. Under its previous incumbent and name of the Cork and Cask I returned to my old local from all those years ago when I moved here. My friend Marie was visiting and after splitting up for an hour or so to wander we agreed to meet in the pub. Whilst I was waiting for her a woman I did not recognise came up to me and said "I know you from years ago." I could only ascertain that we may have met in the very same pub back in the early days. Still unable to place her it seemed strange that I'm accepted here in Hertfordshire after the loneliness of those early days. I have a home but still feel itinerant. Should I have moved back to Kent a few years ago when the opportunity arose? I think I made a mistake. But I'm welcomed here, an outsider who did not go to Monk's Walk School. I do not know everyone here for my life. Yet they accept me.
As we move ever onward towards winter my life is still unsettled. Yes I go to work each day. Sometimes it goes well and sometimes it doesn't. I have a sense of fear for the morrow knowing how much catching up I have to do. Will the demands be beyond my control? Sometimes they are.
That can wait though. After roast beef for lunch with Marie, Ginger Pig bacon for supper, tomorrow is another day. I will worry about that in the morning.
Have a great week and I promise I won't be away so long next time.
I Heard a Voice.
Thursday 10 October 2019
Celebrating Us.
My real name is Mark. I live in the UK. I sang in King's College choir in Cambridge as a child. I studied at Cambridge twice. I have been unemployed and unemployable. I have a job. I live in a small flat. I have friends. I have a small family. I live alone. I've never been married. I have no children. I like cooking. I like beer. I like wine. I like opera. I like Inspector Morse. I have triumphed. I have failed. I have fought back. I have survived. And I have a mental illness.
When I started writing this blog in 2010 I wanted to promote my the forthcoming first book. I also wanted to celebrate food and cooking. The audience has waxed and waned. At the moment it feels as if hardly anyone is out there. But it doesn't matter, I like writing this tome.
There are many aspects to my life, good and bad. Yet on this World Mental Health Day I come here as brutally honest, mentally naked and utterly vulnerable. Back when I had my breakdown no one talked about mental health. We were still locked up in grand but decaying buildings that could not be seen. Now everyone is talking about mental health.
After my breakdown in the lonely despair the first people who reached out to me were the mentally ill. Yes us, the people we celebrate today. Some say I sold my soul to the devil by siding with and working with the enemy. I swore I'd never do that but when it came down to fighting back the teaching profession didn't want me. The mental health world did.
Some fifteen years later I am tired, jaded and cynical. I berate myself for being less compassionate than my colleagues or indeed I should be.
In midst of the chaos of the start of another academic year I'm ashamed to say I didn't wear yellow to celebrate this day. In truth I avoided those e mails. So much pressure has been put on me to do something over the last years that I dread the words World Mental Health Day.
Coming home though I posted on Facebook about this day. I was stunned to get a comment from a friend of twenty years openly saying she wouldn't be here today without me. It put in perspective what felt like I day I had failed and utterly let people down.
Today is our day. But to get out of there we must choose life. My 20s were defined by mental illness and my identity was purely that. Now I am many things. Many things both flawed and good.
I will take that after a tough day. Steak and chips adorned my table. Acis and Galatea accompanies me along with a glass of good Chianti. Tomorrow is another day and I go back into battle. And yes much of the time it is a battle.
Enjoy this day for this is for all or us. The mentally ill, the colleagues, the families, the friends and what I would never have said back then the professionals. Do take care out there. For once I will sign my real name.
Mark
When I started writing this blog in 2010 I wanted to promote my the forthcoming first book. I also wanted to celebrate food and cooking. The audience has waxed and waned. At the moment it feels as if hardly anyone is out there. But it doesn't matter, I like writing this tome.
There are many aspects to my life, good and bad. Yet on this World Mental Health Day I come here as brutally honest, mentally naked and utterly vulnerable. Back when I had my breakdown no one talked about mental health. We were still locked up in grand but decaying buildings that could not be seen. Now everyone is talking about mental health.
After my breakdown in the lonely despair the first people who reached out to me were the mentally ill. Yes us, the people we celebrate today. Some say I sold my soul to the devil by siding with and working with the enemy. I swore I'd never do that but when it came down to fighting back the teaching profession didn't want me. The mental health world did.
Some fifteen years later I am tired, jaded and cynical. I berate myself for being less compassionate than my colleagues or indeed I should be.
In midst of the chaos of the start of another academic year I'm ashamed to say I didn't wear yellow to celebrate this day. In truth I avoided those e mails. So much pressure has been put on me to do something over the last years that I dread the words World Mental Health Day.
Coming home though I posted on Facebook about this day. I was stunned to get a comment from a friend of twenty years openly saying she wouldn't be here today without me. It put in perspective what felt like I day I had failed and utterly let people down.
Today is our day. But to get out of there we must choose life. My 20s were defined by mental illness and my identity was purely that. Now I am many things. Many things both flawed and good.
I will take that after a tough day. Steak and chips adorned my table. Acis and Galatea accompanies me along with a glass of good Chianti. Tomorrow is another day and I go back into battle. And yes much of the time it is a battle.
Enjoy this day for this is for all or us. The mentally ill, the colleagues, the families, the friends and what I would never have said back then the professionals. Do take care out there. For once I will sign my real name.
Mark
Sunday 6 October 2019
Misplaced Optimism?
The midweek optimism that buoyed me on Wednesday had waned by late Friday. Now I'm more uncertain than before. Yes we have the usual horde of people wanting to see us. But that was to be expected. What I'm struggling with is too much change too quickly. At times my head was spinning and I was not at all sure what I was doing. In my haste I made a silly mistake on Friday. Thankfully my colleagues picked it and hopefully what might has happened may have been averted.
It's left me thinking over the weekend on things I usually banish into the corner. That there is a lot going on is expected. But twists and turns that I've not seen before are derailing me.
My session with my therapist on Wednesday was tough but helpful. In another way so too was meeting my supervisor on Thursday. How did I ever manage without that in place for all those years? No doubt I will bounce back and fight off adversity but a nasty suspicion still lurks in my mind. I may have been optimistic but my caution that I tried to ignore may have been right all along.
The weekend has been good though. Yesterday I met up with Kiwi Sarah for lunch and a trip to the Tate Modern. I'd never heard of Olafur Eliasson and modern art is not my thing but it was a special afternoon. The fog room was an astounding and unnerving experiential masterpiece. Add in some lovely walking along the south bank, seeing old haunts around Borough and just enjoying her long lost company is was a great day.
Today I'm tired but not low. I'm cooking slow roast shoulder of lamb, Mitridate, Re Di Ponto is my chosen opera and although cold I feel relatively comfortable. I was offered a ticket to the Bears and Raiders in London but too short notice. I will watch on TV instead. The solitude of the day suits me at this moment.
The week to come will unfold. There will be dramas, tears and sanctuary for some. I do some good sometimes it is just trying to blot out when I don't do any good that I struggle with. Time marches on and I go with it. Until next time.
I Heard a Voice.
It's left me thinking over the weekend on things I usually banish into the corner. That there is a lot going on is expected. But twists and turns that I've not seen before are derailing me.
My session with my therapist on Wednesday was tough but helpful. In another way so too was meeting my supervisor on Thursday. How did I ever manage without that in place for all those years? No doubt I will bounce back and fight off adversity but a nasty suspicion still lurks in my mind. I may have been optimistic but my caution that I tried to ignore may have been right all along.
The weekend has been good though. Yesterday I met up with Kiwi Sarah for lunch and a trip to the Tate Modern. I'd never heard of Olafur Eliasson and modern art is not my thing but it was a special afternoon. The fog room was an astounding and unnerving experiential masterpiece. Add in some lovely walking along the south bank, seeing old haunts around Borough and just enjoying her long lost company is was a great day.
Today I'm tired but not low. I'm cooking slow roast shoulder of lamb, Mitridate, Re Di Ponto is my chosen opera and although cold I feel relatively comfortable. I was offered a ticket to the Bears and Raiders in London but too short notice. I will watch on TV instead. The solitude of the day suits me at this moment.
The week to come will unfold. There will be dramas, tears and sanctuary for some. I do some good sometimes it is just trying to blot out when I don't do any good that I struggle with. Time marches on and I go with it. Until next time.
I Heard a Voice.
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