Awaiting the Postman.

Once upon a time I used to write a lot of letters. With no Internet or texting, no e mail and no mobile phone that was what people did. I have a box on my desk filled with letters. The fateful journey that drove me into madness is recorded letter by letter in there.

Nearly 32 years later I can't remember when I last received a personal letter.  Neither have I written one. All those years of medication and the shakiness that brings has more or less destroyed my ability to write by hand. Oh what the world might be, fun to remember but we can never go back there.

Yet there is a very important letter somewhere in transit. Not to me but to my dad. The last two pieces of the puzzle of my imminent home ownership future is held up in the post.

Please Mr Postman, hurry up!

On this sunny Sunday afternoon though I can do nothing about that. All I can do is listen to Mozart, stay hydrated and contemplate roast pork later. Sarah is coming round for that 

This weekend has been a bit out of kilter. Both my plans for yesterday were thwarted. One by someone else's search for a property and the other by someone having a close exposure to covid. So no lunch with another Sarah and no visit from Charlotte. 

I'm not downhearted though. There will always be another day and another weekend. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Beethoven on a Sunday Afternoon.

Hello from a mild but rather grey Hertfordshire. It is Sunday afternoon and thus far the day has been uneventful. I'm listening to a wonderful recording of Beethoven's Violin Sonatas and contemplating how fast the weekend has gone.

My week was mixed as I had something of an upset stomach on Tuesday. Infection control protocol required me to stay away from the office for three days. Although not feeling great I did manage to work from home.

Feeling better on Friday my long awaited return to presenting to a year 3 class occurred. And by all counts I triumphed.  That was a boost. 

Also last week I put in an offer on my flat. The agent has been away so no word yet but fingers crossed. 

On a glorious sunny and warm Saturday I met my friend Katherine and her little boy William and we went to a food festival. It was heaving but we had a lovely afternoon. 

Back to reality tomorrow. Can I carry over my good end to the week on into Monday?

Before then though there will be roast beef, looking forward to that.

I Heard a Voice. 

Stepping Forward.

Well May has definitely improved since my last post. Outside is glorious sunshine and brilliant blue sky.

You find me on Sunday afternoon tired but well. I really must not talk to friends until 3 am if I'm going to function for the upcoming week. 

The week that beckons will not be without its challenges. I have a meeting with my manager tomorrow...after last time I'm certainly not looking forward to that one.

I will also speak to the estate agent. I'm now in a position to make an offer. A late complication cropped up yesterday when I discovered the freeholder is redecorating and doing some work which I will be liable for. Funny how this was never mentioned by the owner or agent; even when I raised it. So that will drop the offer price.

For now though tomorrow can wait. I'm listening to Handel's Saul and have read the paper. 

Must have some lunch soon followed by a walk in the sunshine. Then at 4 pm a beautiful piece of belly pork will go in the oven. I will season it with thyme, sage and salt and serve it with roast potatoes, carrots, tenderstem broccoli and peas, some gravy and a little apple sauce. 

Have a good Sunday everyone and hope your working week goes well.

I Heard a Voice. 

Grey May.

On a very grey May Day I'm here to say hello. Around the world people celebrate this day. Sadly I'm in no mood for celebration. 

My life has spiralled since I was last on here. Just over a week ago the estate agent that manages my flat called out of the blue saying it is to sold. That blew my mind, overwhelmed my capacity to think and unleashed the most terrible anxiety. 

Family and friends are rallying round in these dark times. It helps but doesn't take away that awful sense of dread. 

We're working on a plan to try to buy it. God it's grown up thinking like that. I never believed I'd own a home. Maybe it won't come off but we will try.

I did make it to work last week but it was very hard. With the long weekend I don't have to worry about that until Tuesday. 

There is nothing I can do today so will try to live in the now. My lovely friend Ros always espouses the power of mindfulness. Can I keep going with that?

Mozart plays, roast chicken awaits and I must focus on that.

I Heard a Voice. 

Age Old Doubt.

My holiday is drifting towards its inevitable conclusion. All too quickly. There have been good times but a lot has gone wrong. In fact yesterday nothing went right.

There followed a terrible night of insomnia interrupted by short periods of sleep and awful dreams. All my doubts and fears have been revisited.

Looking back over the last six weeks my fearful being has been battered again and again. The way one bad thing follows another, then another. 

This has left me feeling pretty vulnerable. I'm constantly overthinking and my long learned lessons and techniques to master mental instability do not seem to be working. 

Glimpses of good do appear sometimes. That helps but they are often fleeting. Keeping occupied is usually a good strategy. Indeed I have done some cleaning since I got home on Tuesday. Little triumphs.

What if questions plagued my life for too long. I thought I'd beaten that with Risperidone. Yet today and in recent days it is very evident. 

My many friends are trying to reassure me but feeling depressed always makes me feel worthless. And that doubt, terrible doubt.

I'm hoping today's plan comes off. A trip to Misya this evening with my barrister friend Mark. And tomorrow I get to have a "blather' with my now retired therapist. He's always wise.

I Heard a Voice. 

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.