Going Down Old Paths.

Ten years ago I had the great privilege of delivering a lecture on mental health recovery to the Islamic University of Gaza. I think this was the highlight of my career. All the UN psychiatrists were there, all the Palestinian psychiatrists and little obscure me. They struggled to understand the concept that I could live with mental illness yet be well. The men were divided from the women and the video camera was fixed firmly on the men. A debate ensued on where the video should be directed. The women won.

Sadly today many people are dying in Gaza and Israel as yet again a flare up of an age old conflict has occurred. I do not know why or what happened and I'm certainly not on anyone's side but I'm saddened that some of those wonderful friends I met ten years ago may be dead. I wish for peace.

Many of my people are dead from my nearly 31 year battle with mental illness. Yet at the end of Mental Health Awareness Week I am still standing. Still struggling. Still speaking. And apparently still inspiring. The last two weeks have been tough for me. Desperately low and deprived of motivation when I came out of it I had a horrible work week. But I did some good.

So now on a grey and wet Saturday afternoon I am at rest and trouble free. I have turned to a well known path that is listening to the legendary Bob Marley. I've been focused so much on opera I had almost forgotten the other paths of my life.

On Monday I will finally be able to enter a pub. To sit in a restaurant. And cook for my friends. It has been a long time coming. I think I will visit Yan on Tuesday...she doesn't open on a Monday. I have a massage booked for Wednesday. And on Saturday finally a return to London to meet my friends Ross and David along with the splendid Eliza whose birthday is coming up. Not sure of the plan yet but it should be good.

In two weeks Marie will visit. And in three weeks I return to Kent to see dad, see the sea, meet my friends and indulge.

Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice.

A Supreme Effort.

Some say that on the bad days it is hard to get out of bed. I have had many days like that in the last 30 years but not so much recently. Yet today after a night of bad and anxious dreams I hit the wall mentally. Tired, flat, anxious and completely devoid of motivation it took supreme effort to get up, get dressed, make my bed, draw back the curtains and make to coffee. I am proud of achieving that today.

But I didn't stop there. I shopped, made lunch, washed up and went for a walk. Doing pretty good so far on this grey and bleak day.

Despite what my therapist says I learned very little from Bernie Rosen back when I was in hospital in 1994. What I do remember which is of value was him saying I don't care what you do as long as it has a purpose. I think he was right on that one. Today's purpose is just to get through said day. Despite the effort I will prevail.

Thinking about it I was probably due to get a slump. Four months alone only brought one low day. And that high a few weeks ago. Living with a mood disorder can be taxing at times. But I must go with the flow.

Back home from my walk I'm listing to Handel's Coronation Anthems and contemplating what else I can do to survive my day. My intention is to cook later. And it won't be something to simple. I have pork fillet, Padron peppers, pata negra and spices so Serranitos for supper. Not really complicated but tricky on the timings.

Looking forward hopefully two weeks today I will be able enter a restaurant and sit down. At the end of the month my friend Marie will visit from Kent. And then in June I will finally go home and see my dad. Something to look forward to.

For now though, hour by hour, I will work my way through this bleak greyness that has invaded my troubled mind.

I Heard a Voice.