Hidden Eyes.

 For many years I hid my eyes from the world. Whether behind shades or avoiding eye contact. I didn't look at people. I didn't want them to see my pain and sadness. 

There is a portrait of me at dad's flat painted shortly after my breakdown and my first time on a psychiatric ward. Dad says he can the sadness in my eyes.

I'm not doing well today. Nor indeed yesterday. It was the anniversary of when my world imploded at the age of 20. I cried my tears, I hid from the world, I listened to my music and I looked at my photos. 

I'm surprised I haven't bounced back. But today I feel utterly overwhelmed. I sat through a meeting at work then gave up the ghost. 

Now I sit alone in my flat blankly staring at the TV. I don't want to talk to anyone today but I will force myself out to order my medication. 

When will normality return to my life? I don't know. But I hope it comes soon, today isn't nice.

I Heard a Voice. 

Sun, Sea and Sunday Lunch.

 Hello there from the seaside! How are you all? I'm really good. Have escaped to see my dad, soak up some rays, meet friends and indulge.

So good to be back down here. Mentally relaxed, a gentle pace of life and no worrying thoughts of work.

Actually if I do think about work it too has been going well. A break was needed though. 

I return home tomorrow after entertaining Beka, Anne and dad to roast belly pork. Smells amazing! Have a great Sunday. 

I Heard a Voice. 

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.

Bluebells in the Woods.

An unusually cold but sunny April is moving inexorably on towards its finale. The bluebells are out in the woods. The blossom is on the trees. And it the sun it is still okay to sit and bask. But the nights are cold and heating still needed.

I seem to have neglected you all this month. No excuse just haven't had much to say. But much has happened. After nearly four months alone I can now see my friends. I ate outside a cafe yesterday for the first time. I can have a pint. I can shop. And I can exchange more than the few words in the shop that was the norm for so long.

That all feels good. As is my wont on a Sunday I'm listening to The Marriage of Figaro and The Sunday Times is nearly read. After the opera a walk through the woods to see the bluebells. Do I have pint after? Maybe. Not sure yet.

Tomorrow my working life begins again. The last ten days have been hard going. Not because of a student crisis. But more that there was a cyber attack that wiped out all our systems. I was metaphorically blinded, deafened and struck dumb. Somehow we are up and running again and I've caught up.

With pay day coming and another long weekend on the horizon I will just take it a day at time and work my way to my rest. On Bank Holiday Monday I will find a country pub garden to sit in for a while and contemplate what has been. What is to come I do not know.

Lamb shank will grace my table tonight. Marinated in rosemary, thyme and rapeseed oil I will slow roast it. I have fresh mint to make sauce, good potatoes to roast and local vegetables. It will actually be my second roast of the weekend. It had to be roast rib of beef on Friday for St George's Day. Sadly I overcooked it. That will teach me not to zoom and cook at the same time!

Have a great Sunday everyone.

I Heard a Voice.  

Triumph and Disaster.

The contrast in my life from yesterday to today has been starkly ridiculous. Last night I was on top of the world, a breeze through work, a wonderful massage from my friend Georgi and the pub finally open. I felt so good late last night. Then the morning came, sore throat, shivering and feeling freezing until mid afternoon despite it being 13 degrees outside. Devoid of energy I did not work, I have barely moved from the sofa and the plan to finally be rid of my stoned lockdown hair abandoned.

Such contrast is hard to take, triumph to disaster. However, despite not feeling well I don't have any anxiety today. That it continues to plague me is usually an irritant and sometimes a disability. But I must keep going a day at a time.

On happier days I've been doing lot outside of work. The offspring of my many friends and the tidal wave of mental ill health that has engulfed the youth of today have kept me occupied. I like helping my friends. It makes me feel useful. On the bad days I feel anything but useful. Today I'm no use to anyone, tomorrow let us hope this goes as swiftly as it came.

Away from all that plans are afoot now the restrictions are lifting. My friend Marie will visit on the late May Bank Holiday. I hope to visit dad in early June. And I've just had an invite to a grand country house for New Year. That is just an idea at this stage but would be good if I can overcome my reluctance to travel.

So the road ahead looks rosier. Just got to take day to day steps to get to these highlights. Have a good week everyone.

I Heard a Voice.  

A Great Prophet.

On a cold and overcast Friday all the Christians in the world are in full swing for their most important festival of their year. Good Friday marks the day when Jesus was crucified. Churches at veiled and stripped bare. The Stations of the Cross recount the passion. And terrifying and agonising music in minor keys marks the day. It is the blackest of days for them. But salvation is nearly here.

In 1997 I went to Jordan with my dad. I recall asking our tour guide Ghussan what Muslims thought of Jesus. His response was that one could not be a Muslim without believing in Jesus as a great prophet but they do not believe he is the son of God.

The truth such as it is is that this weekend is significant to all three of the great monotheistic faiths in the world.

I walked away from the church, Christianity was a significant influence on my childhood. But I still have the wondrous music. So today as every year I listened to Allegri's Miserere and Lotti's Crucifixus and as every year I was moved to tears by such astonishing works of art.

Immersed as I was in church music in my youth I sang every Easter from 1980 to 1993 either here or abroad. The lone exception was in 1984 when I missed a choir tour because I had been packed off on some terrible French exchange my memories of which are still of being lonely and depressed.

I may no longer sing but if you have read anything on this blog or follow my social media you will know just how much music I listen to.

The resurrection which is the greatest day in the Christian calendar is on Sunday. And I will celebrate with great indulgence. Smoked salmon and English fizz will start me off followed by roast duck and Chianti. Not sure I will have room for pudding but it will be grand.

Added into this is an extra long weekend for me. Today and Monday are public holidays here in the UK. I took yesterday off and likewise Tuesday. So a time to sleep, reflect, recuperate and celebrate is upon us.

As salvation from this terrible pandemic seems within sight may we all celebrate ye of all faiths and none.

I Heard a Voice.