As winter ends and spring begins there is little to choose between them. Grey and wet. Grey though mentally is better than the eternal darkness that pervaded my mind for nearly a month. The blackness returned yesterday, today more grey despite horrible nightmares in the early hours of this morning.
In the cold light of day I'm tired but functioning better. I've lost so much weight and barely eating for a month cooking has been a mountain to climb. But I did cook today, roast rolled breast of turkey. The plate looked mountainous by my standards but I managed about two thirds of it.
The washing up lies undone as I'm listening to Puccini opera with a chilled glass of white Toscana.
I spoke to three people on the phone yesterday. All helpful in understanding the mailstrom of emotional chaos recently. It's still raw and hurting though. Hard not to ask the question why me? I tarry too long in the dark recesses of the mental health world and get trapped. What people think matters but I always seem to get burned.
The question of what is my purpose is a common comment on men's suicide notes and testimony of survivors. Not that suicide is on my mind but as a survivor who fought through years of illness, unemployment, poverty and despair I had to find a purpose to recover. That purpose is to help others. Is that a healthy purpose? Well yes and no. I'm great at looking after the mental health of others but terrible at my own mental health. Be kind to yourself even if others are unkind to you.
With I'll leave you on this first day of spring.
I Heard a Voice.
