What of Tomorrow?

A full moon awaits us tomorrow evening. England clash with Belgium in the World Cup. And the weekend is nigh. I look forward to all three in a way. We are coming to the end of my first month back at work. Four weeks completed when I head home on Friday. Not without incident although nothing major I have none the less stuck with it. The plan has not quite gone to plan and we are a little behind in timings but I haven't run away in terror.

Terror did strike me with its callous cruelty the moment I woke early on Sunday morning. It was a very difficult day on which I was convinced all that I have achieved had come to nothing and the end is nigh. But I forced myself to risk seeing people at the football in the pub and by throwing caution and fear to the wind and inviting friends to dinner. Hard though it was it helped.

That fear is back in the shadows now. The fierce heat and glorious sun of this week continues. My mood is around neutral which whilst I don't like it is safer than the heights of Friday evening. That lasted but a few hours sadly. Sadly for me but perhaps not for everyone else.

Sussex Sarah flew back from Florida today. Kiwi Sarah flew back from Finland on Monday. I hope to catch up with them both soon. As Kiwi Sarah said in a text it has been way too long. My attempts at frugality this month on the face of it have paid off although the proof or otherwise will reveal itself tomorrow. For after the full moon comes pay day.

For now though my thoughts are on Verdi, Waugh and the delights of my kitchen. Simple tonight, a rare venture into pasta with a leftover tomato sauce, a little parmasan and parsley. It was pretty good. The next question is do I pour myself a chilled glass of Chablis and retire to the balcony? I will still be able to hear Falstaff out there although I will have to improvise a chair.

Have a great evening everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

A Fleeting Glimpse of the Heavens.

I have waited so long for it to happen. Despite recent improvements I have never got to where I want to be. Oh mood, why do you let me down? Why can't I fly again? See the heavens and top the world. It has been so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like. Until last night.

Yes it came out of nowhere. A soaring, heavenly sense that once again I was flying. The world was indeed my oyster. My voice became louder. My thinking faster. My tolerance diminished. And I was back. It was but a fleeting few hours after such a long absence. But it was wonderful.

Aware that I needed to keep a lid on things and avoid alienating my friends I fought to keep it under control. Everyone said how much better I was. Thank God I finally made it back to the promised land. I have dwelt in darkness oh so long. And now shining, glittering light.

So with a heavy heart I realised it had gone by morning. And I spent a gloomy couple of hours mourning my loss of contentment. It's not that today I feel depressed. I'm tired but not depressed. It is just that my buzzy times are so wonderful it was a way to fall.

Back in reality I did the washing, the shopping, the mopping and the sweeping. A light salad for lunch and now Classic FM. I bought some beef to roast beautifully rare tomorrow. And for tonight skate. I'm quite a fan although I've only ever cooked it once and that was years ago. Do I do traditional brown butter and capers or to Spain with sherry vinegar? I have the afternoon to decide. Let's hope I sleep better tonight and that wondrous illusion that is my good times returns. Well as long as I don't piss anyone off.

I Heard a Voice.

Strawberries in the Sun.

What a beautiful day it has been. Warm, sunny, relaxed and Friday. Friday is always good. I have completed my third week back at work and although a little behind schedule it has been a better week. True I had a moment of fear when I woke and thought back to that I can't get out of bed moment but it passed.

Surviving a quiet day I came home at my allotted time to a bowl of strawberries and a chilled glass of Albarino. Given it is the English summer I should really have bought some Chapel Down Bacchus but I didn't think. But the Albarino is a splendid substitute.

With the evening wearing on and the still bright light a day after the summer solstice I'm listening to Beethoven's Fidelio and sipping a cold beer. The world seems my oyster tonight although I'm not being that adventurous. What I do feel is relaxed and that has been in short supply in 2018. Long may it last.

Returning to my mood diary after a long absence it is pleasing that most of this week has been in plus territory. Only just and nowhere near my glorious mini highs but better than much of the year.

Tomorrow is another day and I'm hoping I wake refreshed, relaxed and energised. Charlie has invited me to Borough Market tomorrow as he is in town. Rather than commit to an early start I have advised that I will decide in the morning. The thought of a late lunch a Brindisa is most enticing but I don't want to sabotage recent progress by overdoing things. Also can't spend too much if I go, certainly overdid my exuberance last time we met.

The rest of the weekend is set fair so enjoy it, chill and savour the wonders of a glorious English summer.

I Heard a Voice.

Hiding in the Shadows.

I'm listening to the most recent King's recording of the Mozart Requiem. Rather lacks passion but then Stephen Cleobury's conducting was never that. At least in comparison to his predecessor. I knew both of course. Ledger died a few months after mum. If you trawl back long enough on here you will find my thoughts on going to his funeral. It's a while since I listened to a lot of King's; become a bit too stuck on opera recently.

There is not much cheer out on a dull, overcast and rather chilly day. I do not want to face the world today and will be content to hide in the shadows. My waking moments were full of fear. The last few days in general have not been easy. So I have in the main hidden from people. I did briefly pop out last night but didn't like the attention that I drew so quickly withdrew.

Next week we up the hours and we up the ante. Am I ready for that? Will I survive my first student contact? Can I match expectation? Things are pretty unsettled there at the moment. Unusually frenetic for June there have been more resignations. Will others follow I wonder? My feelings on returning fluctuate day to day. I think I have achieved something just going in. That seemed a life time away in my darkest moments. I haven't fled for the hills so overwhelmed with fear I was sick. And yes that happened too in the darkest moments.

Part of my fear is do I have the time and energy needed to build the resilience enough for the onslaught in September? For reasons I don't fully understand they have brought forward the start of next academic year. So less of the autumn to appreciate the falling leaves and morning mists in relative serenity. Once the starting gun goes off all hell breaks loose.

For me though I must put that all in perspective. There is time to go, there is support and there is therapy. God I hate that word. My first session went surprisingly well. I'm relieved to be faced with a human and emotion being on the other side of the room rather than a deadpan statue as some therapists seem to cultivate. Why do they do that? They call it boundaries. Oh for some humanity but I think I have found some. Next session Thursday week.

And for the rest of this Sunday afternoon? A small shoulder of pork joint will go in the oven around 3 pm for a fiery blast followed by a slow leisurely cooking at much lower temperature. Perhaps a short walk once it's underway. See you in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Gun Shy After the Layoff?

For those of you who share my passion for the NFL it goes without saying that the 1985 Chicago Bears team that took Super Bowl XX has to rank amongst the greatest teams in league history. I argue they are the greatest I ever saw. What is forgotten in the hype about the Fridge, Jim McMahon and the legendary late Walter Payton was what happened to the team they vanquished in that epic victory. More specifically Tony Eason the Patriots quarterback who never recovered from the devastating destruction by the famous 46 defense. I don't recall specifically but if I recall he only played another couple of years before being forgotten. He had become what they call gun shy.

Leaving work yesterday the term gun shy seemed apt for me. Yes I have made it through two weeks which even a month ago would have seemed impossible. Something to be proud of. But for the first time the spectre of could I ever have the emotional resilience to my trouble shooting, high end, serious mental illness role ever return? Ako vaguely touched on it last time I ventured into the world of psychiatrists. In truth I have my doubts. But the suggested rather than implied option to drop down to a lower grade and have less stress was not one I wanted to hear. It was implied rather than anything else but alarmed me.

A day later I'm a bit wiped out. All at sea and thinking a lot of what once was and what may be to come. It is another anniversary day, 27 years since this all started on a sunny Saturday morning in Cambridge just before May Week. A single missive, carefully written, yes in those days we did write letters, sent me reeling into oblivion.

Many will laud my survival after all that. The next decade or so was pretty dreadful. Not always my own kindest friend on days when I feel low I can see no merit in that battle. It was just something I did. When faced with mental illness you either fight back or lay down to die. Eventually I fought back. And all these years later on days like today I have to fight back.

So Handel plays, I've done some domestic stuff that was causing me anxiety. And I have swordfish for my dinner. As for those tortured thoughts of depression that enclose me round about like the fat bulls of Basan in the psalms, I must sit them out and learn to fight another day.

I Heard a Voice.

Tearing up the Asphalt.

The intense heat and stifling closeness of recent days has given way to a much fresher feel today. Not seen a lot of the sun. But I'm okay.

This morning was the first time since I went back that I didn't wake before the alarm. Expecting a difficult night I slept better than I feared. The culprit was the council ripping up the road outside my flat and completely relaying the surface. It was quite interesting watching huge machines going on their destructive path expertly guided under the bright lights by men in hi vis suits choreographing a vast undertaking. I knew nothing about it until I saw a sign entering my road yesterday afternoon.

Some seven days have been accrued thus far on my return. People continue to way lay me on my travels and delight in me being back. Does that raise the bar of expectation? I raise it so high myself that I don't really need others to encourage me.

Tomorrow I'm having coffee with the big boss. I have been hoping to do that since last summer but given how stupidly busy she is I haven't tried to set anything up. What I do know is that even in the darkest times there I feel at ease in her company. In an ideal world we would all feel like that all the time but I do not live in an ideal world.

My mood diary remains fairly upbeat thus far. Will that continue? I do hope so. The acid test will be around 2.50 pm tomorrow when my psychology session  finishes. I still have very mixed feelings about going back to therapy but will try to be optimistic.

For now though I have the wonderful Figaro playing and intend to make more progress on Brideshead.

Wish me luck for tomorrow and have a good week, mid point comes tomorrow lunch time!

I Heard a Voice.

Hadyn on Saturday.

Hi out there, I made it through my first week back! Not long ago that would have seemed all but impossible. My post of Wednesday reflected the most challenged I felt all week. There has been a lot of change and  I'm not certain where if anywhere I fit into all that but the end of the week was a little more manageable.

As I expected I have been pretty tired. Sounds silly only doing a few hours a day but it is ever thus when one returns from such a long sojourn away from reality. I'm still apprehensive about the future but a mantra of a day at a time will suffice for the time being.

On this rather humid Saturday afternoon I'm trying to keep going with tedious domesticity, shopping, washing and cleaning. Hadyn is my partner for the afternoon, shortly to return to do the dusting.

The kitchen delights remain a conundrum today. I have a few things in, smoked haddock for lunch followed by English strawberries. I'm trying to decide whether to consummate my pasta sauce I made last night or to pan fry plaice fillets with Jersey Royals and English asparagus. Feeling rather indecisive today. Whatever I do I think it will be okay.

During the week I started up on my mood diary again. For some reason, probably couldn't face how low I was, I neglected it during the long months of my recent downturn. We're hovering around about plus territory I think. It may sound odd but it is never easy to hear the social media chatter on the Queen's Birthday Honours. Inevitably with the Cambridge connections there is always someone I know or know of who gets a gong and reminds me once again that my life did not exactly go to plan. The expectation of Cambridge is way beyond anything I have ever been able to deliver in my life and sometimes reinforces that sense of being inadequate. Similarly when I get alumni magazines.

Yet as I learned in recent months many people I consider to be wildly successful have their battles not too dissimilar to mine. I just assume everyone is doing better than me. Well that ain't necessarily so.

Have good weekend.

I Heard a Voice.