I Saw the Rain.

After months of intense heat and humidity, parched earth and yellow grass the rains finally came on Thursday. At last a break from it all.

Rain aside Thursday did not go to plan. Sat in a 15th century pub in St Albans with my book I got an unexpected call from Harry my therapist. Therapists never call especially from mobile numbers. Not sure what I said to him on Wednesday but it spooked enough to get other eyes on me.

So I boarded a bus and pitched up at the mental health team and spent an hour with a nurse. A very senior nurse. Important people are worried. I was impressed with her. Human and giving just like me.

I'm not where I was on Thursday but I had a Saturday in near total isolation which was hard. Too early to tell how I feel today but I have Handel opera, my book and half a chicken to roast for my lunch.

After lunch I'm going round to see friends. With The Hedgehog now closed at least for the moment I have few places to go.

Going forward it is just day to day. But I will ride out the storm.

I Heard a Voice

Surprise Contacts.

Been a while since I was on here. Nothing to say and taking a step back from a few things in my life. It's a mild, sunny Sunday morning here. A step change from the intense heat and humidity that has characterised our summer for weeks on end.

I'm home listening to The Magic Flute. I read a chapter in my book and I need to think about preparing lunch. My friend Jasmine is joining me for roast lamb. Later than planned as she was late back with her poorly son.

Trying to step back has not been easy. Yesterday my plan to just chat to friends over a pint but ended up being much longer than planned due to various unexpected visitors to the pub.

Last night likewise. Seeing my friend Emma whose late mum lived downstairs from me was unexprcted. Still struggling to make sense of her mum's death I was tied up in an intense conversation so I was much later home than I'd hoped.

Today I hope to be more restrained. Need to stay alert for a meeting I'm having tomorrow. Enjoy your Sunday all.

I Heard a Voice.

Sunday of Opera, Reading and Roast Lamb.

It has just gone midday on a quiet Sunday. Handel's Julius Caesar is playing. A half shoulder of lamb is slow roasting in the oven. And I've read another two chapters of my book.

Not been here for a while. I have been exploring other areas of social media. My posts on TikTok about mental health, communication, barriers, challenges are attracting some interest.

In my working life things are going well. Busy last week. I'm off to the Royal College of Psychiatrists on 16th...hang out with the self appointed important people. At some point this week I'm talking to important people about getting candidates onto Clinical Psychology Doctoral programmes. Number 1 priority is being strong enough to stand up to consultant psychiatrists.

Therapy continues each Wednesday afternoon in same brutalising, intense, humbling and shocking way. I knew it would be hard though. One day at a time.

I'll heading to the coast after my trip to London. See my dad, my friends and to walk along the beach.

England play tonight in the World Cup but as kickoff is not until 1 am I won't watch as I have to work tomorrow.

Enjoy your Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Heat and Echoes of the Past.

I was musing with Sarah in the week on what friendship actually means. People say "you can count the number of true friends on the fingers of one hand". Just over a week ago I lost a friend of 15 years because she misinterpreted something I did. The wisdom of Sarah rightly pointed out "if she was a true friend she would have challenged you on it during a conversation not just told you to fuck off".

I struggle with self esteem and sense of self. Try as I might to use my knowledge of language to do good sometimes I get it wrong. My therapy sessions have a heavy dose of loss, endings and the actions of others.

The week that the devil addressed me directly three times has been very difficult. But hour by hour, day by day I got through. I have not opened the latest missives from her but the fact they were sent is really unsettling.

Back on a quiet but stifling hot Sunday morning I'm listening to Puccini, reading and roasting a chicken. A friend popped round to fix a small plumbing issue in my bathroom. Having spent most of yesterday seeing no one it was good to have a visitor.

Going back to friendship some years ago I was privileged to share a panel with the then CEO of MIND Paul Farmer at a mental health conference. His comment was interesting, "the problem with Facebook is it has redefined what a 'friend' is". Friendship is not a numbers game. What matters is authenticity. I know many many people but how many are there for me when I'm struggling? 48 hours of silence usually raises the alarm with my true friends. I must stop trying to be there for anyone especially if it is to my detriment. Devil go.

I Heard a Voice.

An Avalanche of Nightmares.

Two weeks have passed since my last post. I had hoped to post after therapy two Wednesdays ago but was too emotionally exhausted to do anything. But so much has happened.

I returned to my office for the first time in more than a year two Mondays ago. It felt alien, bewildering and overwhelming. Very similar to going back to campus after lockdown. But I did it.

My real emotion was being stunned by the welcome I received from people in health and education. The narrative has changed. They missed me and needed me. The struggles they had without me are getting clearer.

An exhausting experience set against the backdrop of therapy and the devil reappearing. That therapy is having an impact is clear from the avalanche of nightmares I've experienced recently. Really hard going at the moment but I will persevere.

As for the devil life is not looking good but I'm resisting the desire to reach out. You reap what you sow. No longer will I prop you up.

Lost another friend on Friday. Maybe I should cut myself off from people who drain me. As my friend Rebecca who is a therapist said to me yesterday do not keep giving when it is to your detriment.

Away from that though I listening to The Magic Flute and preparing lunch for a friend. Roast rib of beef and a bottle of Amerone. She's bringing the cheese.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Roast Duck, Grey Skies and Puccini

The skies have turned grey, the air is cooler and Puccini plays. Sunday afternoon on an edgy, listless weekend. A week full of travel wore me out. Then the paranoia set in.

Forever worried and anxious being spied on from I know not where is very unnerving. The devil may have gone at least for the time being but I'm fearful of who trust.

That is the nasty part of my mental state. But I have my kitchen, my opera and my books. A duck leg and potatoes just went in to roast. Not had roast duck for several months. The devil once joined me for roast duck. Maybe been the last time I roasted duck.

Tomorrow summer starts, I go back to my office and remember a profound, beautiful but doomed meeting four years ago. That changed so much in my life. It is fodder for my therapy sessions. They remain brutally hard. A nurse on the ward in 1994 said to me "it will get worse before it gets better". I wasn't expecting that 32 years later I'm still at times in the grip of a mental health vice.

Away from my little world life looks uncertain, unstable and unsafe. Why do we do all this to ourselves? Intent on destruction. I fear for the world.

I Heard a Voice.

Vindication and Anger and Emerging.

In my year long venture into all things ADHD I repeatedly hear two words. Mainly these words come from women diagnosed late. They are powerful. Vindication and anger.

After a 4 1/2 year nightmare I emerged into dazzling light vindicated on Friday. A new way forward sweeping away the toxic cloud that has seeped into my very being, my core and my self. It is over.

No ego driven, power crazed and control obsessed poison any more. Life changed on Friday.

Going forward I will play to my strengths, bring compassion, bring teaching, bring knowledge and a fierce sense of right and wrong to my work life.

On a sunny Sunday morning I'm listening to Mozart opera and cooking roast pork. I read two chapters of my book and am looking forward to opening a bottle of Rioja.

Yesterday I was in Cambridge with Jayne to watch the American football Varsity Bowl. Glorious win for the Pythons followed by drinks in the Granta and dinner at Sala Thong.

Not without its bad memories. Two events occured in the Granta many years ago. Both very significant and damaging. But I will not let that overwhelm me. Past mars my past but I shape my future. The storied story goes on.

Back in my current world the devil has shut down all contact with the world beyond her twisted, damaged little life. It is both good and bad. Tinged with what might have been. Harry says I always talk about endings in therapy not what went on before. There is a long way to go with therapy and it remains brutally hard.

That, however, can wait until Wednesday. Today is Sunday and tomorrow is a public holiday. Enjoy this sunny long weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

A Day of Indifference.

The skies looked thunderous when I went out earlier to collect my medication. Angry, threatening clouds but no biblical showers.

On a working day I'm finding it hard to get going with anything. In truth today there's not much to be done. When I woke up I felt a sense of apathy and indifference. Odd given that Friday was good. Glimmers of hope and possible dissipation of darkness. That that darkness had descended more than 18 months ago was purely due to vindictive, manipulative and aggressive behaviour by one person obsessed with power.

No one who knew me before changing jobs could understand why my skills were not embraced but threatened. Sanction may be about to lift and what I bring praised, adopted and heralded. It has been a long and tough road.

My long weekend with Marie did not go entirely to plan. Poor weather and her being unwell dented our Saturday. Fortunately she felt much better on Sunday and we had lovely roast beef at The White Horse in Welwyn.

Tomorrow brings therapy and next week brings me to see my psychiatrist. Been a while as my appointment was rescheduled as I was in Kent for dad's birthday.

The Varsity Bowl is coming on Saturday so plan to go to Cambridge, meet Jayne for the game, a couple of pints in The Granta then dinner at Sala Thong.

Have a good week all.

I Heard a Voice.

Division and Hate.

The fallout from the recent local elections has been dominating our lives the last week. I tend to avoid talking about politics especially online. Last Wednesday I bumped into a friend who is a former Tory councillor on my way to therapy. He had gone back to his roots and not voted for Reform. I mused that our last two governments had blown massive majorities in the space of 18 months. What is happening to our country?

In truth we are lurching further into division and hate. Yesterday a big right wing nationalist march took place in London. The right to protest in vital to our democracy but the demonisation of different parts of our people is alarming. Please let's unite not tear ourselves in to small hate filled pockets.

For many the streets do not feel save. A Jewish friend recently said "if I see someone wearing a keffiyah I am filled with fear". I've worn keffiyahs for decades. I do not want to to be a figure of fear.

In a similar way the cross of St George flag has become a symbol of fear and division. That flag belongs to us not bigoted ring wing people who sow the seed of hate in our communities. Who knows if said flag will be embraced in more positive way during this summer's World Cup.

Away from that my mental state has mainly improved. I don't know for sure yet but the dark, toxic cloud that has enveloped my working world since October 2024 may be about to lift. I'm certainly getting noticed in high places. Change must come and I will try to help bring it about despite losing allies.

My friend Marie is here for the weekend. She was unwell yesterday but feeling much better today. We're off for lunch at The White Horse in Welwyn.

The devil murmured last night but is not much on my mind. Enjoy your Sunday everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

Falling off a Cliff.

Some days I just wake up really depressed. Usually triggered by nightmares of my mum it's like falling off a mood cliff. Today is such a day.

I knew I couldn't do it today. So simply gave up. I sit alone in my flat feeling desolate. The rain is coming down and it's very cold. My mind is clothed with a black darkness suffocating me. I can see and hear but not touch.

Years ago people used to equate my illness to being in a long, dark tunnel. It was worse than that, I was floating in darkness unable to touch or feel the floor or the walls of that tunnel.

Yet still I got up, made my bed, got dressed, had coffee, washed my face, put my contact lenses in and brushed my teeth. I did not go back to bed with all the curtains closed and the lights off. That course of action was very tempting.

For now I fight hour to hour. I will get through. As I posted on another platform earlier to mark Mental Health Awareness Week I survived.

It's too early to decide if I will increase my medication. On Wednesday I have therapy, today I think I need it.

I Heard a Voice.

In Close Proximity.

A cold wind is blowing across the quiet land of Hertfordshire. In sharp contrast to the glorious day yesterday. I'm so cold I have the heating on.

The week was tough. Finally had a conversation about my future. The change I wanted and needed will not now happen. I have little choice but to return to my old job and face big questions. Why is work so hard? To add to that though the woman who has steared our service on a more stable path is leaving. Where this leads us I have no idea. What I do know is that I'm the only one who knows.

That is aside this weekend though. It's the weekend of the Food Festival. I went down yesterday with a friend but felt the busy throng too overwhelming. What I didn't learn until later was that the devil was there too.

I'm hugely relieved I didn't bump into her. Given how painful the journey has been since January to move forward thank goodness it was close proximity not face to face.

Back to this cold Sunday I'm listening to The Marriage of Figaro, I've read another chapter in my book and have rolled breast of turkey roasting in the oven. Still not eating much but continue on my culinary adventures.

Miriam is down visiting dad. No doubt they've booked somewhere nice for a pub lunch. I'm booked at The White Horse in Welwyn for lunch next Sunday with Marie; she's travelling up on Friday.

Devil go home and reap what you sow. I do not want you in my life.

I Heard a Voice.

Not a Known Soul.

I've not seen a soul today. Well not known to me. After a lonely, detached and tired holiday weekend I have sought solitude. I didn't wake up until midday. The lack of structure and purpose on bank holidays has long plagued me. 

Unsure of what to do I didn't eat lunch. Wasn't hungry. But I did get in my car and had a pint of Cornish ale in The Rose and Crown at Welwyn. Apart from the young woman pouring the ale I spoke to no one. Nor see anyone I knew.

Back when mum was alive she would always be surprised when I bumped into someone I knew wherever we went. She always wanted to know how I knew all these people. Well I talk to them.

Meeting new people has never been easy for me. That may come as a surprise given that I get paid to meet and talk to new people. That though is on my terms, in my world. The mental health world is home, familiar to me.

After nearly 19 years in Hertfordshire a lot of people know me. Just none today.

The devil was less on my mind today. That after almost reaching out last night. All voices say do not. Thus far I haven't. Must keep that up.

In my solitude I did cook. Beef rendang from scratch. Made the paste, slow cooked it for 2 1/2 hours. Came out pretty well.

Tomorrow I speak to a wise man, I work and I cook for Sarah. Undecided whether to do pan fried duck breasts with cassis and blackberry sauce, pan fried and roasted duck breast with pomegranate molasses or duck Mussaman curry. Each requires going out for ingredients or the effort of making curry paste on a work day. I wonder which I will choose.

I Heard a Voice.

Whispering Deceit or Crying a Painful Truth?

The devil spoke this week. Not directly to me but to the wider online world. I'm trying to interpret what she said. Was she whispering more deceit to elicit compassion or expressing the painful truth that has beset my mind since late January?

All but one person in my life have don't you dare respond. The one different voice, that of a therapist, is urging me to connect. Who do I trust?

The devil took up most of my therapy session this week. No advice was given, never expect that from a psychodynamic therapist, but he did give some different angles. The most striking was that unlike what happened in the past this time someone reached out to me not the other way round. Before the door has been slammed in my face repeatedly.

It is hard to forgive betrayal, vitriolic bile and attacks that confirm my very low opinion of me. But do I need to forgive? Or am I deluding my self that the devil's message relates to me?

On Tuesday I will speak to someone who will advise. Then I will decide.

Back to today I'm listening to Handel's Serse and cooking roast lamb. It has been a fairly lonely weekend. People doing their own thing. Tomorrow is a public holiday, what do I do with myself? Always a conundrum.

Must phone dad and Miriam later. Back now to my opera and my book.

I Heard a Voice.

Disastrous and Expensive.

Had things gone to plan I would be enjoying my Sunday opera feeling refreshed after my holiday. As it stands I'm listening to Sunday opera with an insidious and smoldering anger.

The week away was not only cut short but was an unmitigated disaster. Never again. Fortunately dad is fully recovered but the appalling way the hotel dealt with a minor stomach upset has left me angry and once again feeling betrayed.

By late last week it seemed they were going to refund everything including the £200 I spent on travel. Now they're trying to back out of that. What can I do though? I'm a nobody with no leverage.

Despite the rage it is sunny, I'm not being bombed as many are in the world. I'm cushioned from economic catastrophe instigated by war in the Middle East. I have a job, a home, food and the right to vote. That is lucky for me. Others are not that lucky.

In a couple of hours I will walk through the woods for lunch at The Waggoners. Tomorrow brings what it will but that is tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Stuck in a Hotel Room.

On the first full day of our holiday I have had no coffee, no food, no air and no sunshine. The sun is out but we cannot get to it. Dad should have on the bowls green from 10 am. Lunch now but not to be.

We are confined to our hotel room and being required to end our holiday. Sadly dad was unwell in the night so we are in quarantine.

Illness cannot be helped. God I've had enough illness in my life. It can be a terrible spoiler. Fortunately he seems a lot better. Yet the holiday is at an end.

I have arranged to be picked up around 5 pm. Not sure what happens when we get back to my flat. No food in as I expected to be away. But at least then we can go outside.

I Heard a Voice 

With a Smile Like a Girl's.

What to say about this week? Peaks and troughs. A slow and short working week. Intense therapy, a trip to London, a no show and my dad visiting this weekend.

Had I written yesterday it could well have been an angry post. Yet on this sunny Sunday afternoon Beethoven plays, belly pork roasts and I feel a lot better.

Dad and I are going away tomorrow. He will play bowls and I will read. I'm taking two books one of which I some way through and another to start when it is complete.

Not sure what of all of that I can expand on but I will reference London. King's events do bring me a lot of anxiety. I have spoken many times on here how mixed and in many ways damaging that was. 43 years on from leaving I still talk of it in therapy and in life.

What made it most interesting was seeing a woman who I was once close to for the first time in 20 years. We were 9 when we met and all these years later she still has the smile of a little girl. She approached me to talk and it was lovely.

Back to this weekend I must get on with preparing vegetables and drying up. Must open the wine too. Dad made it to the local church down the road. I listened to music and have been reading. The sun is shining and the day feels good.

I Heard a Voice.

Handel's Warm Embrace.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon Handel plays, gammon roasts and the sun shines. I'm home and just finished reading another chapter of Felicity Cloake's Red Sauce Brown Sauce-a British Breakfast Odyssey. For someone who never eats breakfast I'm still a fan of a fry up but not when I get up.

My week was a short one after Easter. Back to work on Wednesday until Friday. I guess it was okay, in a bit of a downturn in tasks. Since returning to work in the autumn it's been fits and starts. Intense activity then a lull.

There's a meeting at Royal College of Psychiatrists on Thursday but I can't go. True I will be in London that day but for a drinks reception at The Reform Club. Once again I face the past of nearly 50 years. King's remains both a monument and shadow in my life. A friend asked me quite intensely last night why I was going. I couldn't give a concrete reason. But go I will.

Before then though is therapy. My first two sessions have been intense, difficult and exhausting. But I'm glad I'm going there.

This time next week my dad will be here. No doubt I'll have to organise a taxi to and from St Francis of Assisi church before having lunch. He likes to get his church fix.

Then on Monday we travel to Essex for our holiday. We went last year and had fun despite my parlace mental state at the time. I'm looking forward to afternoons with my book and a few glasses of ale.

For now though I return to my opera and salivate over the forthcoming roast gammon with English mustard.

Have a peaceful Sunday all.

I Heard a Voice.

Easter Greetings.

Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates it. Passover is on and Eid was a couple of weeks ago. So the three monotheistic faiths all celebrate close to each other. Sometimes known as "people of the Book" similarities must outweigh the centuries old animosity that is trumpeted in our news reels. Let us celebrate faith, creed and culture.

In my small world I've been somewhat up and down mentally. I struggled with isolation, desolation and loneliness Friday and Saturday. Better today but the shadow of the devil still invades and envelops my mind a lot.

Yet my kitchen remains my haven. There is half a leg of lamb seasoned with garlic and rosemary in the oven. The potatoes are parboiled. I'm making a starter of crab and apple salad with cucumber, mayonnaise, mint and lemon. Miriam and Nigel are my guests for lunch.

I'm off now until Wednesday. The last week was slow but next week I will review the interim report on "overdiagnosis" of mental health, ADHD and autism ordered by Wes Streeting in December. Quite why he did that I'm not sure given last year's ADHD taskforce report. The chatter online is that they're chasing a mythical unicorn to save money and get people working. To do the latter we need root and branch reform of health, education, housing, DWP and culture. We're a long way off that.

For now though as hailstones fall outside I will concentrate on lunch. Perhaps it's time to crack open the fizz.

I Heard a Voice.

Shadow Fall.

On a sunny Saturday afternoon I'm at home. Just had a chicken sandwich for lunch and have iced water. This day is never easy for me. For it's 14 years today since my mum died. The sea that she loved, respected and feared finally took her.

The shadow of that day and many years before still hangs over us. We have different views on what that shadow looks like. For me it can be cloying and oppressive, a devastating foundation to my mental health battles. At other times I have fond memories. Trips to the cricket in Canterbury. Teaching children to read in school together. Yet still almost every dream I have of her unsettles me. And I have many.

What I cannot take away from her is her life long fight for the rights of women. Seeing a woman installed as Archbishop of Canterbury this week would have delighted her.

Can we speak ill of the dead? I'm about to find out. Next Wednesday I return to therapy. I've waited a lifetime for this. To finally confront the shadow. Sadly it will not be with my expected therapist, that has also unsettled me.

Easter is coming. The music, the food, the wine, the memories. I'm not really eating much chocolate at the moment so an Easter egg is unlikely.

Miriam and Nigel are joining me Easter Day lunch, crab and apple salad with mayonnaise, lemon and mint accompanied by English fizz followed by roast duck with a bottle of Medoc.

I have to get through today though first. A day at a time.

I Heard a Voice.

Blotted Out by the Sound of the Waves.

Sunday morning in March the sun of shining and I'm listening to The Marriage of Figaro. I've had my coffee, put my lenses in and brushed my teeth. Simple tasks that everyone can do but my anxiety tries to beat me on every day. Yes it's that bad most days. Bernie Rosen said to me in 1994 "you have to do the nitty gritty in life". Keep going on the basics however hard if feels and when there seems no point.

After been woken by four dreams in the night two of which were full on nightmares I feel time and on edge. Looming next week is the anniversary of my mum's death. 14 years later I still dream of her and it's rarely good. Last weekend was mothers' day, always a tough one.

Still the murmuring voice of the devil is out there trying to manipulate and deceive and get back into my life. I remain silent. During the week I got to the beach and the sound of waves blotted her out. A short while in time.

Being in Kent much of week allowed me to feel cared for, valued and needed. That was needed after the last two months. I saw so many friends, some by design and some by chance. And my small family. Even ate Italian food on my dad's birthday. Never my thing but it was good.

The world away from me continues to go mad. War has so many impacts. Already the price of petrol has shot up. Energy bills are held for the time being but will rocket in July. Who knows where we'll be when I have to renew my mortgage towards the end of 2027?

Yet these are material things. I'm not being bombed, displaced and being the collateral damage of angry, dangerous, egotistical men fighting with no plan. I do not make political comments often but did highlight last year on here the authoritarianism was back in our world. Almost by definition the makes the world an inherently more dangerous place.

I can do nothing about that though. All I can do is focus on what I can do. And today that is opera, my book and roast pheasant for lunch.

I Heard a Voice.