26 th. September.

September 26. 12:09
Had a good night’s sleep.
Woke up to a fine but threatening day, had to put heating on for a while,

Not typing too well today.

Finally went to toilet after four day wait, feel better for it!

Have passed time when I’d have been having first three cigs of day and haven’t missed them.

I have placebo in mouth as I type but it’s more for decoration than any specific substitute.

No doubt the flat will smell sweeter but as yet I haven’t been able to notice.
I intended to do some course work today to pass the afternoon hours, but not really in mood, seem to have lost interest; no problems there’s no rush!

12:46 PM
I crack and go to shop, cheap bottle of Vermouth and half an ounce, why? I dunno.

I light up but only hold it in my left hand as I type, it goes out.

The only noticeable effect is the return of the Tinnitus, so there’s one reason to stop.

The smell of the smoke fills the room and the taste of the menthol tip lingers in my mouth;
that should be sufficient.
I now have to have the will power to be able to leave them alone while they are available.
I have been able to stop when none available so now I have to change the way I regard tobacco.

When I was buying the cheap 2-ounce packs they were a cheap “hobby”,
an alternative to buying the full price article.
I now propose to use them only as a treat,

If smoking is going to be a treat I have to cut down the amount to a manageable level,
till I reach the love them or leave them level.

I’ve got over the three on a morning craving so if I can stick to say five per day,
I’ll see how long a half-ounce will last.
I’ll carry it around and see when the longing is strongest, for in truth I no longer crave them, I’ve proved that.

I’m not disappointed because I’ve bought some because by going without for a certain length of time I now know I can do without when ready.

I need to prove to myself I could do without now I’ve done that I can work towards a plan to combine cutting down drastically with exercise and diet to hopefully experience an overall change in health.

The rollie makes my mouth taste so I break for a wash and brush my teeth,
and a change of t-shirt.

I now realise that with my downstairs neighbour being at work during the day, I no longer have to creep around trying not to disturb the creaking floorboards,
in other words I am at liberty to walk around for the sake of walking.

The flat is still tidy; I am clean, if unshaven;
I need to get self-respect back.

I give myself the remainder of this year to achieve some visible results; both in mind and body, beginning with the confidence in knowing I can achieve it.

Martini and lemonade, (often drank as cheap intoxicant), flashback to old days of drinking for effect.
I enjoy taste and refuse to feel guilty for enjoying it now, preferring a couple of glasses of Vermouth and lemonade to the alternative of pints of lager and beer;

I nip the rollie because for some reason I’m not enjoying it,
perhaps the taste of the menthol tip is part of the enjoyment,
(I simply used a rolled up paper for a filter),
I’ll break it up and re-roll with tip; much better.

I need to make small changes, like disassociating the routine of cups of tea with early morning cigarettes.
I have to change rollies from routine to a status of treat,
as one would enjoy a cigar perhaps.

In my mind I’m toying with a figure of five rollies per day which by the way I roll would be equivalent in tobacco to three cigarettes;
three too many some would say but I think to start this would be a realistic figure.

I’m enjoying drink, had forgotten the taste having mainly kept Martini for Xmas etc.

In the past few months I’ve weaned myself off beer and lager and therefore no longer need to go to the pub or club on a daily basis.
Over the past four years my intake has reduced dramatically to almost the point of abstinence,
What began as a means of saving money has become a healthier way of living.
Since moving here I’ve tried various spirits as alternatives to getting stoned but haven’t been able to even get drunk.

I can drink a bottle in two nights and get no effect;
it doesn’t help sleep and hasn’t been able to relax me so I no longer see any point in continuing.

The only drink, which has come near to having any effect, is cheap strong cider and I’ve seen too many casualties to follow that path.

I can still drink sociably if need be and am aware of certain places where I could go for a cheap enjoyable beer if I get my arse in gear and sort out a pass for public transport.
Apparently a trip to local library may be sufficient to acquire a pass on the basis of being disabled.

Having lost my license once I am in no mood to risk it happening again.

I may have lots of ideas for changing my lifestyle but I have to focus on the basics, one of them being arrange adequate transport.
If free transport is available I should claim it.
There is a regular bus service to Redcar and to Guisborough,

One town has the advantage of a weekly meat stall on the market and the other town has a cheap pub, which serves my favourite beer and is used by females,
The service to the latter town finishes at a respectable time in the afternoon, 2.20 being the last bus which actually stops near my flat;

I could get into a routine of going out twice a week, perhaps Wednesdays and Thursdays.
By going out these odd days I could ease myself back into socialising and I’d feel at ease going to the local pub for some entertainment on Tuesday or Sunday nights.

I have locked myself away for a number of years now and perhaps it’s time to re-emerge from that seclusion.
After all what is the point of living if all I do is pass the time between sleeping?

04:25 PM
Had a bath and got myself geared up to do assignments but when switched on the mouse was playing up, checked connections and system seemed to be unstable, logged on and off a couple of times and have got control back.

8:35 PM
Having got myself cleaned up I decided to go out tonight,
I went to my club and there was the barkeep and one customer watching football,
I had a pint and ventured further to a pub where I expected to find a group playing, unfortunately it was Karaoke night,
I quickly drank an unpalatable pint and returned home in time to watch the second part of Stephen fry’s program about my condition,

I now accept I have a condition.

I have spent the last few weeks trying to live what others consider to be a normal life,
yet obstacles remain.
Symptoms of the condition are excessive overspending, mania and deep depression often leading to suicidal tendencies.

I have been suicidal during my life, at ages of 14, 18, 25 and more recently while in hospital.
When I was released I was scared to go near the shore and thought of laying on the railway line near where I live, also driving the car over the cliff at Whitby!

I wouldn’t think of tablets because they have let me down in the past as a means of ending life.
I like others now do not want to take my life but am not afraid of death.

Unlike some of the people in the program I haven’t the means to be extravagant with money,
I still have to save for anything I desire,

Yet I went into debt for the first time in my life and took out a loan to finance spending on a property, which wasn’t mine prior to my breakdown.

I rebelled against medication and had to be forcibly injected,
afterwards I could hardly walk and talk.

Apparently the reason for such injections is to give the brain a chance to re-cooperate.
I agree my mind was in such turmoil that I needed to be sedated; if I hadn’t had access to Cannabis I would have physically resisted attempts at medicating me.

I was distressed at the effect my illness was having on my parents, who were and still are the only people who have stuck by me.

Depression comes on almost unseen,

I crave sleep and am only happy when I can switch off by sleeping yet the hours spent asleep are usually full of nightmarish episodes, full of anxiety, regret and danger.

He shows people who have heard voices,
I have heard voices all my life, the main voice being my own,
I talk, argue and mull things over with myself;
often problems and situations are resolved by doing same.

I emphasise with those who enjoy the mania as I relished every moment of it,

My creativity and ability to learn was at a peak never known before yet my memory failed me and many things were forgotten despite attempts to improve my memory by repetition.

I find myself now trying to live an acceptable life yet rebelling against the idea because it is so personally unrewarding.
I do not want to live as others do,
yet know not what I desire in life.

I accepted earlier in my illness that I was in need of some attention to save myself from getting involved in the legal system,
I never thought I would harm anyone but my mood swings were getting more extreme and I did frighten some people, especially those near to me.

The outcome of my blow up was a complete rejection of everything I had and the way I lived and those near to me whether they be friends of foe.

I am now a selfish bastard who is beginning to think of ways of making my life better without a thought for partner or acceptability.
I was trying to prove to either myself or others that I could achieve something out of the ordinary,
That I wasn’t destined to become another bum on the seat of the nearest hostelry,

I’ve been there before; alcohol dependency holds no answers for me.

Cannabis was used for what I’ve always used it for a means to relax,

Yet when manic I used it to fuel my work efforts in the same way,
as speed would probably have done.

I realise the work load I took on was too great and I fried my brain,
in the process I lost a lot of my memory capability and now am trying to recoup some of it.

I, as others have no doubt done have taken my body and brain to limits which brought me to the very edge of sanity,
yet in doing so opened my mind to a world which was so fantastic as to be pleasurably unreal.
I will remember in time some of the episodes and feelings, emotions etc,
at present only small proportions exist, perhaps that is all I’ll be left with,
but the experience will never be forgotten.

I emphasise? with others who became so creative it almost hurt,
one doubts the reality of the situation because of the workload achieved.

You cannot begin to tell anyone what you are actually doing because of the complexity of it,
In short no one would believe you.

I did keep a journal but destroyed it when the social and medical team became involved.

I was always at the point of finishing a project but another and another would spring up and they all became intertwined.

My acts of stupidity, as seen by others were mild in comparison to others yet of great significance and therefore importance to me.

I was aware of what I was going through, I‘d read about Spike and some of his fellow artists and recognised the doubts and fears and effects on their mental health but I accepted them as something everyone who strives for a goal must go through.

Am I in control now? No! My world still travels too fast at times,

I used to think that the computer with its fast speeds was the cause of my mind racing when in fact it wasn’t responsible for anything more than opening my mind to a multitude of information which never before had been available to me.

I’m struggling to slow my life down;

An outsider would be hard pressed to see how it is in fact anyway fast yet the thoughts still race and heart beats fast when I’m in certain moods.

Depression is brought on by perceived failure.

To regain control of one’s mind and everyday life is difficult and I’m setting myself realistic goals to improve and repair my health and mental well-being.
I have to change my attitude to others and myself.

My parents helped in any way they could when I was sectioned but most importantly they left me alone when I was, unknown to them in an unfit state of mind to see them,
I would have lashed out and hurt them, physically and mentally, my mind was unable to allow me to adopt to the niceties of being polite.

Being locked up with people of a similar ilk, allows one the freedom to exist without having to be too sociable; most patients forget very quickly,
I struggled not to become violent; my anger and resentment levels were extremely high,

I was volatile; sympathy and kind words would not have been enough to quell these emotions.

My game plan was to centre all my aggression on one person; my “trick cyclist” and she took the brunt of my anger.
Frustration and anger were emotions inside of me before the section and they blossomed after the event.
I’ve had a crash course in handling my emotions and hopefully have come out a better person.
Stayed up till 4a.m.