Change is a'Comin'

Greetings to those not reading this!

Since my laarrrst blog, a few things have happened that signal some sort of change of luck for me and myself in particularation.

Primarily, love has become the kingping (everybody go "ping"!) of my future life. My sweet lady from Brisbane has decided to upsticks and hop over here to sample the hitherto unappreciated charms of Retford. This lady has a remarkable effect on my state of mind when we are together. Almost instantly, one is transported from a drudging, sleep infested existence to something that approaches normal. That she loves me is one compliment, but that she wishes to leave her own country and friends is one compliment that I'll probably spend the rest of my days trying to absorb and appreciate. For once, luck has been remarkably kind to me and I have my soulmate and love(r) to be with and to care for. All of this without mind games, too.

In April, I will be making a voyage, or flight, to Australia myself. Previously, my last foray to foreign lands was last December on a ferry trip to Bruges, with my love. Prior to that, we're having to go back afarrrrr to 1986. It's quite a leap but one that I'm very excited about. I intend to upkeep the blog bogey more regulegularly whilst abroad. To say the very least, it will be an experience, and one to savour. Hopefully all will go well with the flights health-wise and if so, I can then accompany my love on trips into Europe, etc or wherever.

Another change that I have forced upon myself is that I'm no longer intending to use mental health or depression as a crutch to hook myself onto. I think it is possibly a replacement for RH, which was some sort of sick parent that I relied upon for keeping me going. Being ill-health retired took that away and I replaced it with the services in Mental Health and it was a support for me in that I didn't feel totally bereft. What I should have done was realise that I had very good friends who were there to be a real support all the time. Nowadays, the issues that were causing much distress and shenanigans in my head have faded into the dim and dimmer past, almost naturally. I'll always be a depressive and suffer from depression, but I'm no longer wearing the badge or the t-sherpa.

The lost of my dad, which everybody or nearly everybody goes through, was horrible but the grieving process has almost come full circle and I smile when I think of him and I know he is in my heart.

I'm now "used" to being retired, though the days are long when I'm alone. It means that I'm no longer defining myself by what I did for a living.

My eyesight has stabilised or stopped getting worse, for the time being. Thankfully, this has given me space to become accustomed to being partially sighted. I don't think anybody would jump at the chance to have my eyes, but I also don't believe that my live is wretched or pointless. There is a quality of life. Using the stick and glasses combo in public has taken a long time to get used to but I wouldn't be without it.

Soooooooo...oh...oh...oh... I think that I'm at a stage in my life where I'm more content than ever and, dare I mouth the word, HAPPY. I have a wonderful lady in my life, good friends and that, in my book, means that I'm a lucky man.....

Ta ta for now.

Beatles Remasters

This September will see the release of newly remastered versions of the Beatles' entire catalogue, after many years of gripes from fans all over the world about the 1987 issues on cd. A few thoughts have occurred and seeing as the net is full of mindless, meandering ponderings...why not add one more pondering?

Personally, I found that the Beatles' music was pretty good in almost any form, apart from the dire and frankly risible U.S. mixes for "I Feel Fine" and "She's A Woman". These two being the exception to the rule, or rather, my rule, that you can do many things to Beatlemusic but spoiling it it practically impossible. I would say that, as we're now nearly half a century into the Fabs' story, there are several generations of Fabheads around and they all have their preferences as to how the Beatles should sound, almost to the point of being quite pernickity and anal about it. I suspect that this September's fun and games will be a matter of racecourses for racehorses.

I include myself fully in this obsessive club, but cannot settle myself exactly on just what is the best way to hear the Beatles is....each way has good and bad points.

I love to hear an original pressing of, say, "Strawberry Fields Forever", for the dark and nightmarish sound and the crackles add more to the intrigue. It is in mono too, which puts across a more compact sound that is due to all the various sounds being piled onto each other. The negative is that it's not suitable for peering beneath the surface of the song, due to its' "mono-ness", but that's not what I'm using vinyl for. A stereo mix on vinyl is obviously better, but lacks the clarity of cd.

I also love to have a pristine digital copy in order to study and listen more intently. It's also very pleasant to hear the Moptops sound very clean and crisp.

Maybe I'm lucky in having the music on more than one format...

The point I'm making is that I don't have a single favourite way of listening to those four lads who shook the Wirral.

I understand that the new cds will use original stereo mixes made in the 1960s as the basis for their remastering project which has taken four years to complete. I'm so pleased that these original mixes will be re-released and in the best sound quality possible for one simple reason. Part of the Beatles' charm comes from how they sounded, so to make a new mix of their music would not be giving a faithful representation of how they sounded. Remember that these cds will become the standard editions of the catalogue, meaning that these have to cover several bases instead of the diehard Beatlehards.

Tinkering with the sounds is worthwhile, using modern mixing standards to bring vocals in the centre and fill out the sound more as two examples. This is, however, not the place for such projects, which are down to the particular quirks of whomever the mixer is and they are purely subjective. Of course, it'll be another excuse for EMI/Apple to peddle yet more cds of the catalogue for the audiophiles clinging on for 5.1 surround sound mixes (how you can achieve this on 2 track masters, as in the case of the earliest material, is beyond me), but nobody is forced to buy. Me? Why I'm sure I have a fairly good idea as to my decision....Amazon or Play.com?

Let's stop whinging about Apple and how they've "got it wrong again".... It's been said by those who have heard these tracks that fans will be stunned. I'm quite happy and excited to be stunned again by the Beatles. Roll on the 9th of the 9th!

Number 9...Number 9....Number 9

The Pig Has Flown Away....

I found that living in a semi-house-arrest situation wasn't too bad. This I took to be a compliment to either my parents' house and the comfort it affords me and to my many little fads over the years that I turn to in order to amuse myself. The swine flu episode was frightening, certainly for the first day or so but as the days wore one it became apparent the I was just suffering (and I was unwell) from a virus of some sort and not at deaf's door. Pardon?

It's been a while since I writted on here and there have been a number of events and things that have given me something to Stop and Think about, namely how my behaviour gives me problems and how I can negate these personality problems by thinking slightly or greatly different. The big thing has been that I have now been told I have SIX Personality Disorders. My time at the lovely Rampton gave me something of a very basic awareness of the condition(s) but this only served to give some hyperbole and inflation to the seriousness of the problems I grapple with on a daily basis. The "treatment" is a committment to an eighteen month group therapy course called "Stop And Think". I won't bore you with the process, but the idea is the have a particular issue that is causing difficulties and anxiety and other things. Then after working out some solutions that are available to you, from other members of the group, so things are suggested that you might not otherwise have occurred. Finally, there are a number of these options that you can try, as a practical exercise. So far, I've had one opportunity to try out this process with the group, all working together to come up with a plan for me. I have to say that I was a tad sceptical about these Americanish ideas of treatment but I have gained some little insights and ideas that have actually work. The key now is to apply this process to other problems that cause me a great deal of difficulties both mentally and physically.

One by-product of these sessions is a friendship that I've been able to strike up with one of the group. Somebody with compassion, understanding and from whom there is another avenue of support. This goes both ways, indeed it has to in order to comply with my inner-committee that decides almost everything. I've had dependent relationships (where I was the dependee, so to speak) and it isn't healthy or good for either party and I understand that for me to be "ok" with this situation I must make sure that the friendship is equal.

Just prior to the piggy flu episode, I suffered quite a severe dip in my mental state. It began without warning, suddenly pouncing upon my unguarded mind. I surrendered to it, and it was quite a frightening situation. My lovely lady friend has taught me that things such as these are always just a phase and that these phases will pass. It passed suddenly. I cannot find anything in my life that caused the dip, it was chemical. This served as a reminder that I'm not going to get rid of mental illness but the new insight I have learned is that I can do simple things that will make my life easier. It's empowering and gives me some hope that I can find some control.

With that, I will cease this drivel and go to bedfordshire;o)

How Long Is A Piece Of String?

I survived mothers' day with out any major bad jujus, despite nearly destroying my liver in the process of shutting out the reality. What it must be like for mum, I dunno. It might just be a series of fleeting impulses that have little power to distress her or agitate her. It might also be frustrating, if there is anything left of her knocking about the cavernous regions of her brain. I keep wondering at some of the things she has said to me, things that tell me something I want to cling to but which upsets me severely, that she is conscious of her situation and that she knows that she isn't at home anymore and that she grasps the fact that she has a problem with her memory. If there is that consciousness, I feel awful and glad. It's wonderful to still cling on to the hope that there is something of the old, ferocious ALIVE woman still there, albeit in a muted state and wearing less colourful clothing. It's horrible for me to imagine, and I do imagine, that she is alone, alone in her mind and and lonely in her heart. What could I have done different, apart from treat her with more sympathy prior to the diagnoses of Alzheimer's Disease and Vascular Dementia. Why did it take a doctor's confirmation of a condition to make me lose all of those frustrations at repeating something, well, repeatedly. Suddenly it was no longer an annoyance, and all I felt was sadness and great sympathy.

Now, in care and in mind, my mum and I are estranged. Where there used to be just the two of us getting along in our intimate way that was just between us, now there are strangers between us and beside us and within us, I guess.

I'll never convince people how terrible this whole business is, how painful and heart-breaking it is to know that I'll never make her laugh again, or she'll never tell me in her sweet way that I need a shave, that I'll never speak to her on the telephone. These little fragments that compose a life and a relationship between and mother and son reveal themselves without warning and suddenly there is a searing pain in my heart, at the reminder again of the tragedy and the loss and...selfishly, the comfort of having mum around to sort me out and put me right. It's cruel.

I have struggled with depression and I had depression whilst my parents were around, so I don't wish to paint a picture that I was happy then. I was happy for long stretches and I had a happy childhood, albeit laced with fear and terror in equal measure at school and realising that the girls all seemed to dislike me and that the boys were only friendly if I had a snooker table or something. I'm exaggerating, of course, but the feeling is real enough. I miss mum and dad terribly and I know I am too attached to them which means the loss is felt more keenly. The difficult thing for you, if you care, is that right now, I can see me taking my own life after mum passes away and that gives me a sense of peace. Sorry if that reads wrongly, or makes you uncomfortable but I have no intent to remain alive for other peoples' sakes, if I'm not happy. I may well not, but it's a long-standing thought and one that will not leave. I know that this reads badly, and that it's a sign of an unwell, unbalanced mind but this is the way it is. I get my peace from where I get it, you get yours from where you get it.

Anyway, I want toast.

Mother

Thank you mum, for washing my clothes
For tucking me in and wiping my nose
For salads, cakes and meals that I loved
You gave more to me than anyone else could

Thank you mum, for making me laugh
For driving me about and holding my hand
For making me toys from Blue Peter like moog
You gave me more than anyone else could

Thank you mum, for years of love
For being around and being my foundation
For taking the fear out of every situation
You gave me more than anyone else could

Thank you mum, these tears that I shed
Tell me you're there in my heart and being
Tell me I did all that I could do to protect you
For you gave me more than anyone else could

I love you, mum

James xxx

Ups and Downs.

Greetings, etc...

As I write, I am under something of a dark cloud, a low mood, an 'episode' of depression. The positives seem less so and almost pointless. As am I. The darker feelings amplify and coat every surface in my head. As a consequence, I'm a 37-year old little boy, frightened and wanting his mummy to 'make it go away'. Pathetic!

One aspect of having depression for a long, long time, at least 20 years in my case, is that, slowly, one becomes able to learn a few tactics that can fight the lows. The principle is to create a diversion. When the thoughts are really loud and unsettling, I start doing housework. I don't live in filth, but I am not ultra tidy either, so I just do those jobs that get passed over and annoy you everytime you think of them. By doing this I'm making a physical effort that can override my head through exhaustion. It works sometimes.

I'm also doing something that I've never done before with my depression. I'm not isolating myself, I've told my family, I've told my gf, I've told my friends and....I've been to see my doctor. She has prescribed an anti-depressant that I used to be on ages ago. It's stronger than what I was on before, so we'll see what happens. There's also another drug, Pregabolin (google it, folks!) and that is a miracle drug in that it helps my feet (painful neuropathy) and reduces anxiety! My doc has doubled the dose, so I'll be zzzzzzing away like a babby. I haven't slept well, which contributes no end to my mental state.

So far, the thoughts of self-harm have been just that, which is a change, too. I haven't had any suicidal feelings either, which is a change. I don't wish to die. I just don't know what living is about. It all seems to pointless and futile. Still, while I'm here......I may as well try to be a good person or something. I want to help people, to be a support to my friends, etc, so that doesn't make me Hitler, does it? I don't know. All of the bad feelings of nobody caring or liking me are REAL to me, and fighting that is tiring and not easy for those around me. At least they understand that I'm not always like this.

And so....I'm hoping that things will shift and improve very soon. I have hope, which is something I've never had, or not for a very long time when I was a blond and just over 3 foot high.

Until the next time....tarrah!

The Birthday Visit

On Saturday (6th Dec.) it was my mother's birthday. As usual, her friend took me to see her, with cards and gifts to celebrate her 74th birthday. She didn't really know it was her special day, in fact she said that she was 27.

This particular birthday was a special one for me in that it was a visit that had to happen, had to happen on that particular day and had to happen whether I was ill, mentally or otherwise. It was the second visit since that day when I nearly killed myself with pills. It was, therefore, something of a test for me. I think I passed - no tears, no emotional moments and not a sign of depressive moods. Somehow, I'm actually doing what everybody has told me, i.e., not to feel guilty that I've...put her away in a home...etc., and not to feel guilt at aiming to be happy. I don't know how it's happened, it's possibly a result of the pill-taking-hospital-incident that I turned a corner, found that I wanted to be alive and that I'm possibly not the horrid monster and thoroughly bad egg/person that I've believed for a lifetime.

All of this proves that, for me, I have to wait until the feeling arrives, rather than just accept what somebody has told me. I understood mentally that I had done the right thing with mum, and that I have done right by her, but I still felt like a bastard, a bad son, an addition to the hurt that I've caused friends and family over the years. I just couldn't feel it.

All in all, I feel more at peace with what's going on with mum. I still hate it, I still think it's the worst tragedy to strike my mother and turn her from a fiercely strong, intelligent woman into a shell. It's a rape on a total scale, with no disrespect to the victims of actual rape. I mean that it's robbed so much of her, so much personal stuff, that she is not the same as she was before all of this. I'll mourn and curse and hate what happened for the rest of my life, but I won't let it consume me and leave me bitter and hate-filled. No disgust at mankind or the world. It's just part of what happens in life, it just happens, no vendetta or personal victimisation involved - it just happens and if your number's up, it's up.

One final point...I friend I used to know for sometime in the past and with whom I parted on very pathetic grounds (all of my own mentalist doings) recently made contact with me on Facebook. We made peace. He was graceful and philosophical enough to let the past remain the past and he was very kind. I can't tell you how good and relieved I feel at this. After this parting, I went into a very steep decline and was soon having to actually talk to my doctor about it, as I was so ill and scared. I believed, on the basis of a few things I'd said whilst drunk and probably whilst sober, too, that I was evil and a bad person, a horrid person and I could understand why these friends and this friend in particular didn't want to know me anymore. I was bad, ugly and scum. So, this friend has lifted a big burden that I've carried for nearly a decade and I thank him. Thanks, PD.