A Day of Doubt.

Today has been miserable out. Heavy rain and gusting winds. That was after a New Year's Day full of doubt, overthinking, loneliness and flat mood followed by a night of insomnia. Not a good start.

Those days and nights come to be sometimes. The legacy of all these years of ups, downs and mental illness. On those days I just try to let it play out and learn to fight another day. 

Despite the the storm raging outside I'm in a better place. I popped out to The Waggoners to see off the lovely Helena who is off on her travels. A kind, smiling, intelligent 21 year old she has looked after me on my visits the last few months. 

Back home now in the warm my travels seem long gone. I have travelled extensively in my life, 17 choir tours between 1979 and 1996, travels alone to Holland and Spain, travels with friends and more recently trips with dad. 

Whether I do another trip I do not know. Today it feels too overwhelming. 

I do though recreate the marvellous cuisine of other cultures in my kitchen. People like my cooking. 

On this bleak winter day my adventure is closer to home. Lamb casserole using scrag end is bubbling away slowly on the hob. I believe it's called comfort food.

Tomorrow my holiday ends. The world is moving on its very dangerous way. But each it gets a little lighter. The bulbs will come in a few weeks. Spring will bring back the greenery. And I return to study for the first time since 2015.

I Heard a Voice. 

Saying Goodbye and Hello.

On a mild and intermittently sunny late December Day I saying goodbye to what was and hopefully hello to a glorious tomorrow. 

That this year has been tumultuous has been recorded in my posts on here many times. A year ago another hammer blow was about hit. People can be so unkind. There would be more hammer blows up until Easter.

Somehow I was able to stagger up from the canvas of life each time. Resilience I suppose. 

Now as I listen to The Nelson Mass on New Year's Eve I'm doing much better. It's funny when support comes from unexpected places that we can not only survive but Thrive.

The weight of expectation continues to weigh on me but I have done some good with my words.

What tomorrow brings I do not know. 2024 is less than twelve hours away. I know I will cook, listen to opera, read, drink my wine and hopefully bring a smile to people. 

Without smiling where would we be. When I started on Risperidone in 2001 a couple of weeks later I bumped into a former neighbour. She asked me what had happened? Bemused I asked her what she meant. "You're smiling! I haven't seen you smile in years".

My battles with mental health goes on but today I'm winning. 

Happy New Year to you all. Prosper in 2024.

I Heard a Voice. 

By the Pale Light of Dawn.

It's nearly 8.30 am in the heart of East Kent. I've been awake since 6.00 am. Some days I just can't sleep. 

I watched Dawn breaking over the beach. There no sun to be seen, just the pale, eery dawn light of a late December morning.

The sky was alive with gulls. The sky a threatening slate grey. And the sea rising to heights then crashing down on the beach.

I'm not a morning person. In fact I hate mornings. Today though I was at one with nature in all its brutal savagery. 

The celebration of Christmas was grand this year. We nailed the roast goose. The pudding divine. And the cheese awesome. Much wine too. I was so tired I could have gone to bed at 5.00 pm.

Boxing day saw roast gammon before Miriam and Nigel disappeared on their travels. 

The world may be in turmoil but for two days at least I was at peace.

A year ago I also woke early. My mind was destroyed that day. I saw inside the gates of hell that day. Not today though. 

I'll tarry here a little while longer. Then out for breakfast and after get my hair cut.

Work is still a week away. There are people to see and things to do before then. I hope the drive home on Saturday will be a simple as the journey down here.

I Heard a Voice. 

A Windswept Sea.

The wind is blowing across the shingle beach. Waves rise and crash. And the sky a threatening grey. Mum would not have swum today. 

Yesterday I escaped to Kent for Christmas. It was an unusually good journey. Work is done for the year.

The anger and paranoia of my last post has dissipated and I'm good. 

I didn't get that job but I am not disheartened. There will be others. As I said to people at the time it was an opportunity rather than a desire burning or otherwise. 

A year ago on Boxing Day I descended into hell. The worst crash in 30 years. For a long time I was paralysed by fear, by failure and by expecting too much of me. But fought back.

As the world grapples with war, famine, disease, climate change and man's propensity to destroy itself I can only control parts of my little world. 

And today I'm with my family, near the beach in East Kent. 

The great day awaits us tomorrow. A sumptuous feast of roast goose will decorate our table. We will go to the beach as the sun sets. Christmas pudding will follow. Then cheese and wine late into the night. 

For a day or two the gesture of peace on earth goodwill towards men will mark my life even as darkness encloaks the world. Please be kind to yourself and to others  

I Heard a Voice. 

Fear and Paranoia.

This last week was hard. Not all bad but it was hard. Being angry and paranoid never sits well with me. But I know my critics sometimes rage and that makes me rage. But tomorrow is another day and I will stay true to myself. 

33 years into my journey in mental health I am who I am. I speak out and not everyone appreciates that. Yet if I don't speak out who will?

A former colleague once said to me "you're the only person I have ever met who talks about the shadow". I asked what that meant and she said it is a term in Jungian psychotherapy that is the truth no one ever speaks. 

Where I've got in trouble in my career is when I speak the truth no one wants to hear. Many find it hard to hear the truth.

Troubling though the first part of the week was Faith was restored on Thursday. Facing an interview for the first time in over two years I don't think it could have gone any better. My presentation was so comprehensive the panel had no questions. The interview questions were all answered I hope eloquently. Just as important they answered my questions. 

At the end I said it would be controversial for a non qualified person like me to be appointed. The response was "you were shortlisted for a reason, experience counts".

We will see in the week. 

Back to today Mozart plays. A shoulder joint of pork will go in the oven at 2 pm. I do like Sundays!

I Heard a Voice. 

Slumbering Change Before the Snow.

Greetings on this cold late November day. Actually it has been freezing all week and we're bracing ourselves for snow tomorrow. 

Opera night is in full swing with Madame Butterfly and dinner is in the oven. Greek baked prawns with tomatoes, pepper, oregano and feta. Smells great. 

You find me trying to shake off the latest autumn lurgy. Seem to have caught everything bar covid the last couple of months. 

Despite that I'm making progress. A plan is afoot for change that I didn't seek. More an opportunity than an aspiration. I'm not very good at attention to detail but of the five hurdles I face in my operation three are complete. Sequential as they are I've needed to be unusually methodical in my approach.

The next hurdle will be faced at 11 am on Thursday next week. Then is my opportunity to talk and hopefully blow the audience away. Everyone believes I will smash it to use the parlance of today. 

Before then though I have to deliver to a number of 6th form students on university, mental health and change. That's scheduled for Friday morning. Looking forward to that. 

The weekend beckons, quite fancy Sunday lunch at The Waggoners. Last weekend I went to Borough Market which was sublime on Friday. The lunch at The Waggoners on Saturday. Sarah and I are booked there on 14th December, we want to catch the visiting Carol Singers.

Advent Sunday approaches; I get to hear the epic Low He Comes with Clouds Descending. One of the greatest hymns I know. 

Take care.

I Heard a Voice. 

Death of a Book Case.

When I first moved to this part of town in 2009 my very dubious landlord kitted out the flat. Cheap junk which just about summed him up. I had told him of my love for books. What I ended up with was a flimsy wobbly book case.

A move later to the flat I now own the book case came too. Then after having a pint more than was perhaps wise I lost my balance and crashed into it. The book case is dead and there are books everywhere!

Despite this calamity you find on a Sunday morning tired but good. 

Things are afoot. A plan is in place. In a couple of weeks I must do the presentation of my life and shine. An interview is looming. And I'm good at interviews. But that can wait.

Today though is more sedate. Opera plays, belly pork is in the oven and a quiet day is underway. 

Happy Sunday all.

I Heard a Voice.