A Day In The Life

It begins at dawn.

He rises with the light, the screeching and chattering of gulls on the rooftops and the banging and clattering of lorries unloading in the urban street below, an oddly suitable lament for his tired brain. Sleep was broken and restless, yet somehow just about satisfied the basic necessities of bodily rest. He makes tea, fires up the computer and starts to write..

He knows writing is good. He knows it is therapeutic. He knows he has a flare for it. It reminds him he's not completely useless. He reminds himself he's not actually useless at all, and that's just low self-esteem talking. He knows chronic self-doubt and self-loathing are old foes, always capable of resurfacing at any given moment. He writes with a constant scrutiny of self, ever ensuring he writes for the benefit of himself, other people and the wider world, in that order. He wants to share his experiences, his knowledge and his wisdom, such as it is, because he knows deep down that this is his purpose in life. He knows it is his lifeblood, and wonders how he has gone such long periods in the past without it..

As the distracting noise of street sweepers outside begin their regular morning run up and down the road, he almost wishes he had his own machines in his head that could sweep away the litter of yesterday's stresses and strains and fears and failings, leaving him fresh and clean for the day. Almost. But he knows that he must analyse these things, picking the litter to check for lessons to learn, before shaking off the dust and arising. He feels alone, but not lonely. He has come to value this early morning time, the relative quiet and the solitude before the world outside really wakes up, and the family surrounding him inside begin their day. A chance to reflect..

He knows about a good many things really. He knows about illness of the mind and spirit the most. He knows about being troubled as far back as memory will take him, about misspent youth and rebellion. He knows about misdiagnosis and toxic prescription medication. He knows of the desperation of reaching for help and finding none, or worse still, the wrong kind of help. He knows self-medication and the sickness that follows. He knows habituation and addiction, the highs and lows of substituting one drug for another, and the terrible price in wasted time and unlearnt lessons paid for such. He knows the depths of hell because he willingly dwelled there, and he shudders to recall a particular kind of self-imposed purgatory too. He knows self-harm and suicidal ideation. He knows what it means to want to end it all..

He knows an awful lot about doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, diagnosis and the medical model. He knows of the fall, from grace to the pits of despair, that occurs when one realises one is a danger to oneself and others. He knows about rage and fury and hitting out at everyone and everything. He knows about intangibles and labels like extreme anxiety, panic, depression, psychosis, mood swings, bipolar, hallucinations, dissociation and depersonalisation. He knows about losing his sense of self and identity. He knows about secure psychiatric units and anti-psychotic medication and feeling like a zombie. He knows about stigma, and being judged and labelled, and of the narrow-minded blinkered attitudes out there in the world. He knows what it feels like to be doubted, criticised and reviled. Worst of all, he knows what it's like to be feared, and to fear oneself..

As the promise of another hot summer's day warms the room he finds himself wondering just how the hell he got to where he is now. He's had the thought many times in the past, but it always meant life had once again crashed all around him like a broken computer, and despair ruled. Now the feeling is of incredulity and amazement - at the strength, resilience, willpower, fortitude and sheer determination to survive that has got him through life so far. He realises the external factors that helped him get here, in no small part the support of family, friends and professionals alike, and he knows the biggest part of his success has been finding all the reserves of his own inner strength..

He knows power; of self-determination and exercising choice in treatment, of learning the knowledge and tools and techniques of mental health, of acceptance of others attitudes, shortcomings and feelings, of getting clean from a life of addiction and staying that way without faltering, of taking responsibility for every facet of oneself and rolling with it, of helping his loved ones and the wider world understand it all better, of being a living, breathing, thriving embodiment of what is is to survive mental illness and maintain mental health for life..

He knows love, and is surrounded by it. He knows that love really is all he needs. He knows where he's come from, where's he's at, and where he wants to go. He knows it won't be easy, that it isn't meant to be, and he welcomes that fact. He knows from here on in life's all about learning. He knows it always was, he just didn't realise it, or accept it, or go far enough into it. He knows the pieces of the puzzle that make him are complete at last, and that the world is his to carve a niche in whatever way he wants. He knows he has so many gifts in life, and that the greatest of these are the gifts of children, of a loving wife, of a supportive family, of genuine friendships with genuine people, and of knowing just how fortunate he is..

So the new day is begun. He smiles to himself, a slight gesture on the outside, but inwardly he is laughing the laugh of a man truly content. The day could bring joy, comfort, laughter, fun and excitement. It could bring discomfort, anxiety, stress and exhaustion. Most likely it will bring a mixture of all of these things. Regardless, it will be a good day..

The best of days.


Copyright ©2018 Richard C. Greenlow. All rights reserved.