For nine days I have battled what feels like covid but isn't. The fever, the headaches, the freezing cold and burning up, the cold symptoms and the throat that feels like it has been sand blasted. Yet worse than all of that the devastating depression.
Tuesday and Saturday I was once again at the gates of hell which had unleashed its devilish demons. Utterly overwhelmed the old friend of all those years ago came to visit. All day yesterday I fought against it and somehow came through.
I'm safe and today the gates are shut, the devil is nowhere to be seen and my false and deceiving friend called suicide has gone.
So my war with mental illness goes on. 33 years in June it will have dogged me. But in all those years I have prevailed.
After a week away the thought of returning to work is daunting. All the old problems still there and many more emails.
I need a break where I'm not hounded, surprised and harried by the unexpected. In truth I've not had a proper switch off and stress free break since that short time I had off when changing jobs.
Feeling better today I turn once again to the culinary arts. A courgette and nectarine salad with mojame, walnuts and a date molasses dressing for lunch and roast beef for dinner. Before that though I listen to Puccini and remember that after darkness there always comes light.
I Heard a Voice.
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