People of Faith.

I don't recall in my lifetime Easter, Passover and Ramadan all at the same time. The three great monotheistic faiths celebrating together. Oh that peace would follow. 

My admiration for the chaplaincy at the University was based partly on friendship and partly because Allan and his successor Fiona promoted it as being for all faiths and none.

Our team in the new job have people of faith and of none. As I've worked my way through the appraisal process in recent weeks I have celebrated our diversity. 

That Easter hasn't exactly gone to plan is a given, rarely do things run smoothly when I'm with dad. Him suddenly announcing yesterday that he is playing bowls this afternoon blew a away my long laid plan for Easter lunch. Caught between that and a guest having an evening appointment at hospital left me angry and despairing. 

We will get our roast beef but not until this evening; her appointment was postponed. My fear is though that I'm getting as anxious as my mum was.

A couple of weeks on from my mental downturn I still haven't resolved things in my mind. And though off next week my perceived failings at work are making me worry.

Why would I do that? Why does anxiety so cripple me after four years of therapy?

Prevail though I will, just need to take it one day at a time.

To all my Muslim, Jewish and Christian friends I wish you well in this holiest of times. And to all of other faiths or none a message of peace and happiness.

I Heard a Voice. 

Sunshine and Seagulls.

Greetings on this beautiful spring day! The sun has been shining, the air was warm and the seagulls as loud as they ever were.

After a near four month break I have returned to the seaside to visit my dad. The journey wasn't brilliant but here in reasonable time. Glad I didn't drive seeing the state of the lorry park on the M20 as I passed on the train. 

Although not many people are reading at the moment some may be wondering how I am. My last two posts reflect how battered and bruised I was for a while. Things are a little better now although for the life of me I  cannot fathom just what happened in that time.

The age old doubt, fear and anxiety remain lurking below the surface on what otherwise looks like normal life.

Mentally I'm neither depressed nor manic, I just am. Someone once said "no man is an island". However much I run from the world when life is not good I'm still reliant on others. Especially for emotional succour. And when people walk away with little or no explanation it is hard.

I heard something interesting yesterday from a woman I have met a couple of times who openly espouses her diagnosis of BPD decrying why the label has been changed to emotionally unstable personality disorder ask the question "what emotion is stable?" I've not thought of it like that and she is right. 

The myths and lies told about me in 1990s have now been debunked. It only took 30 years. But I am just as vulnerable to the terrible emotion of loss as anyone else is. Who wouldn't struggle as I did in the last few weeks?

Yet I will enjoy the sea, the sun, the people and the cooking over this most important of holidays. To have a longer break is definitely needed.

I Heard a Voice. 

No One Noticed.

The sun is shining but there is a chill in the air on this late Sunday morning. April is here but it feels more like September. 

You find me listening to Handel's opera Acis and Galatea trying to make sense of the last ten days or so.

All those years ago when mental illness grabbed me in an iron fist no one noticed. Maybe I'm good at hiding it. To me it felt like no one cared. Back then it nearly destroyed me completely. It did take away all I believed in but I survived. 

Dealing with people walking away from my life has always troubled me. In truth only someone with no compassion and empathy would feel nothing in those circumstances. 

Yesterday after a second person in ten days walked away no one noticed. I sat in the pub surrounded by my friends but they seemed to barely notice.

I needed them last night but no one came. A day on it has a feeling of the morning after.

Experience tells me it will take 48 hours before people come looking for me. 

So all I can do is enjoy my lunch at The Waggoners, my opera and my reading. The emotion will sort itself out, I just need to give it a little bit of time. 

Slamming the Door.

On a beautiful sunny spring afternoon I'm at home trying to make sense of the last few days.

Calls, letters and messages that come completely out of the blue have always made me struggle. Especially when someone is slamming the door on my life.

Who wouldn't struggle as a compassionate caring person to be effectively told to fuck off? Relationships of course, that why I stay single, but also friends. More troubling is never knowing why.

Two communications have come in three days. Not both saying fuck off but really from the battering of the first to have another incredibly difficult conversation has made me feel quite vulnerable today.

Vulnerable is not a word many would apply to me but when mentally down that is exactly how I feel.

I will never get an answer to what happened nearly 32 years ago when someone walked out of my life with no word of explanation that cast into the free fall of madness. I still have no answers on that but mainly I don't ask the what if questions. 

With Mother's Day tomorrow and the anniversary of my mum's death on Monday being me doesn't feel good at the moment. 

I will bounce back but right now it hurts. Let us hope the salvation of my kitchen tonight will help. But please think of me in the coming days. 

I Heard a Voice. 

On the Eighth Day.

On a day of pouring rain and gloom I remain stuck at home with covid. The eighth day has seen some improvement but nowhere near 100%. I did manage the washing and some cleaning so achieved something. 

I had hoped by now to be out and about but will take a little longer. Perhaps I will test again tomorrow. 

Mentally I'm holding up quite well. There are anxious dreams, I have the disappointment of not making it to Kent today but mood feels good. 

Shortly I will listen to Choral Evensong on Radio 3. Always fun to listen to. This week a recording from Truro cathedral. 

The cooking adventure continues with a pork chop with shallot and sage in a cider sauce. Much as I love my kitchen and my cooking I really do look forward to eating out when the virus goes. 

Hopefully tomorrow it will be gone.

I Heard a Voice  

Taking it for Granted.

It's amazing how much we take for granted in life. Well at least if one has the money to pay for convenience. You find me on day 5 of covid. It's raining out but not sure what else is going on, haven't been out for 3 days.

Just popping to the shop around the corner from my flat has sometimes been a twice daily occurrence until no longer possible. Even during lockdown I could still shop.

Now I'm totally reliant on the kindness of my friends and neighbours. And now I'm realising we don't think or worry too much about supplies being low. Also just how much I spend on myself, good food and good wine.

The virus symptoms themselves seem to be evolving each day. Yesterday I had back pain, a cough and exhaustion. Today I ache all over and the cough is worse.

Looking back though aside from the terrible first 48 hours when I was wracked by fever it seems less severe than when I last had flu over New Year 1998/1999. Then I hallucinated night and day for a week and lost 3/4 stone in weight. 

Of huge comfort to me though is that I can still taste and smell. Despite the huge effort it takes I'm still cooking. And cooking well. Thoughts of roast beef excite me in painful times.

I'm listening to Don Giovanni as I write. Also as I write war rages in the east, many are dying and have no chance to take anything for granted. As I've said before I wish for peace and my thoughts are with all the victims of war.

Enjoy your Sunday. We will see what covid has in stall for me tomorrow. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Covid Strikes

Greetings out there. Some time has gone by since I last spoke to anyone on here. For that please accept my sincerest apologies. 

You find me stuck at home on a grey afternoon three days into covid. Having led a charmed and lucky life for the last two years the virus struck me on Wednesday. 

It was quite odd in that my first symptom was a very sore back. As I was going through health and safety training at work including chairs and posture and given I have a new chair that I don't know how to adjust I assumed it was that.

Then a terrible night of fever, intense headache and continued back pain. I barely slept and felt terrible. After e mailing my manager to say I wasn't coming in I did a test and as I feared it was positive. 

Last night I slept better and the fever seems to have broken. A sore throat is replacing it and my head and back still hurt but it is manageable today. 

The worst thing though is I'm forced to stay home and not travel to Kent for dad's birthday. Just didn't seem worth the risk even if I test negative 

A PCR test is ready to do this afternoon then just have to sit it out.

On a wider view the world seems a frightening and dangerous place as war rages in Ukraine. I only know what Western journalism tells me and I know the broadcasts in Russia are very different. But I wish for peace for everyone's sake regardless of nationality, creed or agenda.

Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice.