22 nd June.

Friday, 22 June 2007
Woke up at 10, waited an hour and went for baccy.
Smoked last of gear last night before retiring and was rewarded with good sleep but back is still semi-rigid.
Weather is pleasant but clouds are definitely carrying rain, think all will change this afternoon.

Was going to do shopping etc. but think will postpone till Monday, or if shop open on Sundays will give it a try, it should be quiet.

Sky has greyed over and looks heavy with the potential of rain.
Have just had a look at site stats and seems I have a couple of American and French readers.
Hi and Bonjour.

Yesterday’s posting was a little different.
An experiment in which I simply followed a thread, gathering information whilst trying to provide insight into the problems of the writer.

It has taken a long time but I have finally dismissed all thoughts of my sectioning to have been a mistake.
I displayed all the symptoms and therefore was sucked into the authority’s care program.

Am I therefore right or wise to reject the course of medication?

As with many aspects of life, I am given a choice.
I may have a relapse; I may not.
I definitely feel more in control of my life,
Without the meds.
I cannot live with taking any tablets which can cause such large weight gain.

I believe that lifestyle factors are the most important triggers and therefore should be looked at in more detail when assessing a patient’s needs.
If a person successfully makes dramatic changes to their life then perhaps success in removing possible and probable triggers then medication will have no further effect.

Looking back I did what a lot of 50-year-old males would love to do.
I threw away 95% of my possessions.
Split with partner of over 20 years.
Got rid of accommodation which was heavily laden with responsibilities.
Broke away from accepted circle of associates.
Began a new life; almost.
Actively searched out a quiet, secure area to “live.”
Took time out to learn new things and contemplate future options.
Took the time to realise the effects of what was a traumatic episode in my life.
Realised that the episode, was merely a chapter, and as such would eventually be finished as another chapter began.

I read that if a patient is to have another episode it will usually manifest itself during the 12 to 18 months following release if a course of medication is not followed.
Hence the idea of starting a diary.
If such an episode was to come about, I would have some reference, hopefully to what triggered the episode.

I know for a fact that my life changes have been the biggest influence upon my present well being.
My mind is nowhere as confused, busy, or full of information and thought as when was when I was committed.
I have put the same amount of effort into understanding my problem as I used to, trying to learn any of the computer based topics I tried to learn when disturbed.
As a result I have acquired a form of in built regulatory system which monitors my moods, activities, and thoughts.
Looking for signs, of my grip slipping.

I have definitely learnt that the brain is not as capable of self repair as I first assumed.
We can all damage our brain and throw it off course, as easily as we can colour our disposition by our thoughts.

As stated earlier, my diagnosis was correct; the Authorities acted correctly in sectioning me, I now accept that.
With this simple act of acceptance I am able to release the initial feelings of anger which I held when I first considered my lifestyle to have been ruined by the interaction with the health services.
Anger, frustration, and desire to change were extremely prominent feelings when I was disturbed.
I have now had sufficient time to adjust and in doing so, and realising the actual advantages I have gained from the experience, I am able to function better.
I have a clearer mind; have hope for the future and experience gleaned from the episode, sufficient to allow me not to fear any possible re-occurrence.

Hell, after all the brain is just another part of our bodies and sometimes has to receive treatment, much like any other organ does.

An imbalance of chemicals in the brain.
In its simplest terms.
We cause imbalances in our systems almost daily.

I nearly burnt myself out, I accept that, but in doing so I gained knowledge of my personal limits.
Now realise what damage can be done by taking aspects of one’s life to the max.
Excess, in anything, can be harmful.

I know not how long I have taken to reach where I am today,
But I feel as if I am near to drawing a line under yet another section of my life.

For some, the diagnosis of the problem is followed by the threat of a lifetime reliant on a drug regime which does need a lot more research work.
Some become totally obsessed by their circumstances and live their lives around the condition.
I suffered a massive heart attack and consequently I have to take tablets which serve to alleviate the burden on the damaged heart, I understand what the medication does and therefore accept it.
I damaged my brain, confused and overworked it, allowed unnatural connections in the circuitry to be established, became fearful of the irrational paranoia which ensued.
My body and life was dictated by the damaged thought processes.
I received attention and have managed to return the activity to “normal.”
I therefore deem myself to be equipped with the knowledge which may or may not prevent a similar episode occurring.

I have a condition for which there is no miracle cure.
Snap, that’s what they said about the birth defect of the spine.
I will have to live with both.

There is of course no definition of normal.
So, the patient with a mental problem simply has to aim for,
Being able to function.

I felt I was unable to function while receiving medication which was powerful enough to control my mind, suppressing some functions and heightening others, often resulting in confusion and emotional stress.

Having a mental problem is very much like being classed as disabled but having no outward, easily discernable problem.
People see you as normal until you arrive in a wheelchair or exhibit irrational behaviour.

Why do I hesitate to add any further lines?
My original idea for writing daily posts was to keep track of my life and log any possible signals which would point towards causing a relapse.
To allow me to work on my memory problems.
To allow me time to remember and understand what had just happened to me.
To keep me away from the socially acceptable dependence on afternoon drinking.
To log my use of drugs and alcohol.
To highlight progress and failure.

I feel like I’ve come to the end of the mission.

My apparent enjoyment of writing has taken over from spending time drinking and as such has become a large part of my life involving me in an increase in computer usage.

If, as I fear I’m nearing completion then what has the future in store as far as continuing to use writing as a means of relaxing?
Should I simply stop?

After all, compulsive behaviour such as commitment to daily sessions of writing could be seen as a sign of a mental problem existing.
The abandonment of such a project can also be seen as a trademark of someone with a problem.
As can be over or under sleeping.
Nothing is clear-cut and everyone is so darn different yet connected, as to make the drawing of a benchmark, even a T.B.M. impossible.

(T.B.M? Temporary benchmark, termed used by surveyors and engineers).

I admit to experimenting with the limits of my brainpower.
I purposely overloaded it and tried to tap into resources which I believed at the time were available but knew not how to enter.

Once again,
Hermit bastard- stalked by a mountain lion, has caught my attention on the radio.

Write about something else?
As apposed to what?
I have covered a wide range of subjects and integrated many among the lines of the diary script.
I will never “become” a writer of any note because my life lacks enough stimulation from outside events.
I have nothing which I want to research and write about.
My situation was unique,
I wrote about an episode of my life which has occupied a certain length of time but which has now nearly reached its conclusion and therefore calls for me to move on.

To travel from being someone who believed all was lost.
To become a rational, calm if somewhat introspective person, with some understanding of what has happened and therefore feels able to cope.
Is a long journey.
One which many people fail to complete.

For them I feel pity,
For my own “success,”
I thank God.

I had the faith, remnants of belief in one’s own capabilities.
That faith was spawned early on in life when I first began to rely upon myself to solve as many of life’s problems as possible, on my own, not seeking outside help unless absolutely necessary.

For someone as self reliant as me to admit that I was unable to cope was not easy.
Once I realised that I did indeed need assistance and was unable to even begin to help myself.
Was then I realised how fragile I actually was.
How ill-equipped I actually was to handle the unexpected curve balls that life had decided to aim at me.
I was vulnerable and that fact was taught to me in no uncertain terms.

We are all aware of our own restrictions physically but are seldom aware of our often delicate mental conditions.

The young mum realises the potential danger of listening to her child cry non stop for no apparent reason, she understands the mixed emotions, the dangers of becoming angry.
If the bi-polar person is unaware of the potential triggers which exist in everyday life then yes some will fall ill.

Do I advise anyone else to take any notice of a guy who selectively uses cannabis and Alcohol yet refuses medication?
Of course not.

If the meds work for you and you feel safer for using them,
Then you have your personal solution.

I pour myself JD and lemonade and take time out.
I skin,
I spark a rollie.

I remember my conversation with the hospital’s resident figure of religious authority.
He told me he had written and successfully published a book,
I surmised it would be about his work in the hospital, and added,
You have an abundance of material, must have been easy.
“If you think it is so easy, why don’t you have a go?”
He asked.
Maybe I will, I had thought.
And what a great ending this would make.

I feel a sense of relief which one can only get from the completion of something.
I have chronicled my time after the episode, allowed the reader an insight into some of the actual episode yet haven’t gone into too much detail about the circumstances leading to same.
My writing began with only the ending preplanned.
I had no predetermined time to spend on project, no idea of its possible content or structure.
But it is finished, of that I’m sure.
In as much as, the reasons to begin have been sated.

I now intend to enjoy a couple of JD’s and relax.
It is indeed time to regain control over my present life and possibly make plans for a future.

I felt that unless I managed to control the demons of my past there was little hope for any future.
I have also learnt that any train of thought which starts with, “What if?” is potentially dangerous.
Yet the successful following of such a train of thought can be enlightening.

I am aware that some of my writing may leave me vulnerable to attack.
So what? I live in a world in which,
“You cannot please everyone”

Why is writing down one’s thoughts so different from attempting to keep the reader’s interest while leading them astray on a journey of fiction?

I enjoy writing, producing sounds, artwork, and experimenting with ways to relax.

Will I ever look at the books of writing I wrote prior to buying the computer?
I think not.
I chose to start and chose when to end.
There is a volume of work included in between.
So therefore my old English teacher would have been satisfied that the criteria of beginning, middle, and end have been satisfied.

If truth were known, it was my mother who, having got me interested in reading at an early age went on to show me examples of interesting writing.
She was also a brilliant artist, but never had the chance to experiment except for assisting me in projects.

To relax sufficiently to allow one to write as one would normally speak,
Speak aloud the thoughts present at the time.
Simply writing what one is thinking, without plan.

I cannot imagine what a true author must feel like when they actually come to the end of a project and type the last word.
Exhilaration, relief, sadness perhaps? I have no idea.

I look at the cloudy sky and am reassured by the knowledge that it will improve,
Times will get better and therefore life must be tolerated in the meantime.
My father, still hopes that someday I will be happy, meet a suitable partner and enjoy a reasonable standard of living.
I have always hoped for the same outcome but have been equally aware that time is indeed running out.

I am a totally different person from what I was say perhaps two years ago.
My whole outlook on life has changed.
Any dreams or expectations have long been removed or refined.
My perception on life has become more black and white as apposed to the dazzling array of digital colour which appears to dominate our lifestyles nowadays.
I am aware of my faults and have changed my way of thinking, to consider these foibles.
I am certainly more considerate of others.

What have you to lose? As a reader, spending a few minutes in my shoes.
Oi va voi- refugee. ( Sound track)

I actually feel deflated, I feel I have explored my experiences of a disorder to a limit which suits me, leaves me with a sense of reward for completion, and therefore has no further need to have such a huge influence on my future.

In truth I have mentally blocked many more parts of my past; this section will probably just end up keeping others company in the dark recesses of my mind.

I give myself a mental pat on the back for opting for JD on my last shopping trip,
I’m unashamedly enjoying it and may well go for the full effect.
How easy a bottle bought with the intention of combating pain can become a celebratatory drink.

Will any reader have the patience to plough through the first boring pages of this blog?
Will they be able to realise the different styles.
Discern the mood of the author by the content.
Notice progression from mood to mood.

Or have I been too successful in disguising the apparent haphazard style till nearing the end of the project.
Should I have been more open at the beginning, how could I have been when nothing was planned?

Am I even in my right mind to expect any feedback when I have tried my damnest to take away the usual expected threads of thought and subject.
My writing was blurred, as was my memory.
The content was fractured, as was my thought processes.

Can someone simply draw a line under part of their life and simply move on?
Yes.
I intend to try.

I will no longer try to evaluate anything by considering its degree of “normality.”
I am not normal; my life may be similar in some aspects to others but will never, I hope, be considered normal.

As I said previously, “it’s o.k. Being a sheep, as long as you are a cool sheep.”

People nowadays gauge their success in life upon many different criteria, keeping up with neighbours and availing themselves of whatever is in vogue.
Shallow and often undemanding, leading to joining the herd in pre-advertised fulfilment.
We seldom take the time to think what is really important in our lives and because of that flaw we often lose the vital components necessary for a happy existence.

O.k. perhaps fifty is too late in life to realise all this,
Or is it?

I may have had no notion of what I actually wanted in life but I reached an age when I was old enough to realise I hadn’t come anywhere near achieving what I’d wanted.
My life sucked and for a while I blamed everyone and everything in my life.
Before realising.
I was to blame.
My mind was a key and with it I could enter previously unknown territories.
The sub conscious and the conscious brain will combine to produce questions.
And if you take the time or are given the opportunity to consider those questions.
Surely something good will be the outcome.

Writing is a means of considering the options, you allow the thoughts to be put into script and in doing so you are considering each upon it’s own merit.
You allow some thoughts to mature by removing other invasive sections which have hitherto been clouding any processes.

I have successfully returned to a troubled time of my life and been able to understand the causes and come up with feasible alternatives and possible answers.

I have taken the daily monitoring of the agencies and supplied a little more meat on the bones.
Enough to provoke internal, personal debate and possibly supply answers.

It hasn’t been easy, and I’m not talking of the pressure of having to write something, anything, each day.
What I’ve left out has been equally important to the success of the finished project.

All this from someone who cannot remember what was written yesterday!
The joker- leaving you.(sound track)

I feel as if I have just witnessed the birth of something and am now enjoying the placenta as an after event nibble.

I could have so easily wrote a preface and described to the potential reader what I had in mind.
Truth is, I had no idea whatsoever what I had in mind, and never have for the duration.
This is the only true partition of the work when I feel I need to supply extra information.

I am now under the influence of JD, I have drunk enough to relieve the stiffness and pain, have reached a point where spell checker becomes a necessity, realising the futility of trying to get drunk on JD,
Ideally a couple of well loaded joints would have finished me off nicely.
I now have to once again reconsider the role and use of outside agencies in my everyday life.

My stomach cries out for me to stop, my mind knowing full well the glorious sleep which may be a possibility if just the correct amount is imbibed.

I will, no doubt, take it to the limit; disregarding any objections from brain or body.
I’m in the mood for a celebration but the guest list is severely limited.
I allow thoughts of Spike to enter my mind and roam around the now vast areas of emptiness.
Remembering the frequent visits of himself, and fellow artistes to places of recuperation supplied by the N.H.S.

Today’s events will occupy less than the average daily post yet be significant in the fact that I detected a sense of closure upon my past.
I celebrate that feeling.

True I would love to celebrate with others but I do not want to go through the hassle of explaining what has actually finished.

Will I wake up tomorrow feeling any different?
I sincerely hope so.

Enabling closure by laying something to rest is not easy, as any person who has grieved will no doubt tell you.
Putting a project to bed is equally difficult.

As is getting myself into the right frame of mind to return to same.
Hunz-you’re still here.
As the Phoenix arose from the ashes, so will I, given time.

Now I’m getting attacked by a stomach full of acid for drinking JD and smoking heavily.
Flaming June it may be, but I am cold, tired, and deflated and therefore plan to return to bed even though it has just turned six!