Totally Mental II: One Weak, In Pain. Day 2 Tuesday

11.00 Hrs.
The sun is shining with a brilliance that almost makes depression almost impossible.
I used ‘almost’ twice there for a reason. It’s a multiplier effect. Because people say that ‘if your problems went away you would be well’, ‘if you had plenty of money’, ‘if you weren’t socially isolated’. Etc. etc. If I won the lottery, life would be easier, no doubt; but it wouldn’t make my illness go away. I’ve never seen someone with no legs suddenly sprout a pair when they won a million, have you? Neither would you expect them too. But people expect people with mental illness to get better when circumstances change!

So, the sun is shining, the sky is blue, but it has little effect on how I am this morning. And this morning I am an ambivalent mix. I have yesterday’s blast of creativity still washing over me, yet I have an underlying nervousness about the day, which has changed overnight because of Belinda’s shift changes.
I don’t like sudden changes to what I had expected, and I know a lot of my friends with mental illness are the same. It is unnerving. I rocks the matrix. It shakes foundations.

So this morning I am shaky, but creative. Sometimes the very act of being creative can cause shakiness, but it’s a good shakiness. And today I have an idea for art. As my transatlantic chum suggests, I may just post it. It won’t be a crowd pleaser. I won’t prettify it to please.

No pressure.
I’m going to have another cup of tea.
It’s a lifesaver.
Almost literally.


13.10 hrs
My wife has left for work – she has had a lift from a colleague, so I haven’t had to go out at all today.
I’d like to go out, when I have to, to shop in town rather than the usual supermarket. For one reason, the meat is better quality, and I’m going to make a stew tonight.

Whether I will be able to or not is as yet undecided; the shakiness has not subsided, and I’m feeling rather fragile. Fearfulness has not returned, which is a blessing, held at bay, no doubt, by yesterday’s sensory experiences.

It’s still debilitating. I need to prepare. I also need to get some more black paint. The wildness of the wind doesn’t help, it’s an unsettling chaos I could well do without.

I’ll go out at 14.00 hrs.
I’ll prepare my head.


I prepared my head, and failed miserably.

I’m not sure I want to keep trying when things get like this. Outside is so unforgiving, it’s like a room full of wasps, you just don’t want to be there.  i Want to write how successful I have been in getting the shopping, and coping with the crowds of shoppers, how I have been self-determined and strong, and always – or often, more honestly I guess – have to get to this point of despair and lowness before I can throw myself into the action.

I’m trying to be positive, I’m trying to be forward looking and secure, but all that sits in the distance is pain and poverty, even homelessness.  Each day I hope to see a brown envelope on the doormat which will tell me that, having looked at my details again, they have decided to change their minds and put me in the support group of ESA.  Though even if that happened, they have the DLA tests next year which will see me back to square one.  I feel like giving up, truly.  I wonder about the point of going on.

But go on I must, because I love and I am myself a support. It is, however, becoming increasingly difficult to do so.

My mind – me – is going to have to continue to groan  for a bit.  It will have to creak and splutter.  It will have to endure.

Going for some meat and veg now. And a nice pudding, and bugger the carbohydrate, fat and sugar levels.


PS I am adding this line because the word count without it is 666. Call me foolish.


Some wise words from friends to ponder make the nighttime a little better.

It’s 23.10 and I’m still waiting for Belinda to finish – she will still be working hard, even though she was meant to finish at 21.30.  it’s giving me a bit of gyp, to be honest.  My narratives are starting to speed up, multiply , fractally.  as they do, they bump into the borders of the space available, and rebound back so that chaos can reign.

I have a curry, pilau rice and bhajis ready and waiting. We should get them around midnight at this rate.  She’s back to work at 6 am.

I am getting angry again, which isn’t good.  I need to stop, think, meditate. Not easy when the phone may go any minute to go pick her up.

I hope she isn’t hurt. I hope she hasn’t been assaulted, or become ill. Worried and angry.

I’m needing a drink, I am ashamed to say. A good glug of rum or some such. I know it won’t help, but even so.

i am burbling.

Time to stop writing.

Time to start breathing.  Good night, all.


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