My enforced hiatus from blogging appears to be at an end. I find myself with emotional and practical space to begin writing again, and I've also had lots of encouragement from friends. Turns out people like walking through the forest of of my mild insanity with me. Weirdo's!
I can't actually remember when I last blogged, although if I looked on my own site I could probably work it out. It feels like a long time, and a lot has happened. What doesn't change is mental health relapse, struggling to hold down a job, the ongoing trials of marriage and parenting, experimenting with medication, being chubby and generally finding the business of living really hard. I am currently unemployed (the first time in about 25 years), and have had to come to terms with the fact that having a chronic mental illness seriously interferes with fucking everything! I know that doesn't sound like rocket science, but knowing this fact intellectually and living it are two entirely different things.Oh and I went to respite to stop myself hanging myself in the Highcross toilets and met a man who told me that the previous occupant of my room tried to carve his eye out with a spoon!
Most of the people I have spoken to do not want to be defined by their illness. They want it to be a facet of their being, a reflective side of a wider personality that makes them interesting or only makes a small impact on their lives at various times. Sadly for me I have to not only acknowledge my illness but give it living space. I recently told a therapist that it's like the third person living in our marriage. Sadly I have to let it live with us, but quite frankly I do not want to feed it, speak to it or generally give it the time of day! It's an uninvited house guest of the worst kind. It's chaotic, destructive and sucks the life out of everything. Oh, and I can't evict it as it is forever attached to my sodding brain.
So I am trying to readjust my living boundaries. I am letting go of what was, and moving in to what might be. The up side of this is trying out new things, actually being at home to support the kids as they move in to really challenging times in their lives, giving myself some time to be gentle with myself instead of killing myself to be "normal" and feeling more balanced. The down side is having to expose your inner most fears and madness to a benefits officer whose sole purpose in life is to shame you, patronise you and convince you that you are lying about your condition, Oh and you do this whilst sitting in an office that is filthy, smells like a mushroom farm and bans food and drink for fear of them being used to treat staff with violence. I am poorer now that I was when I was 15 but at least I have a platform to begin again.
So I will write, maybe a stream of consciousness, maybe bullet points, maybe sarcastic poems, but I will put it down and see what happens. Until the next time...