The Palace Park

The Palace Park

Thursday, 7 October 2010

12 September 2010

12 September

The last two weeks have been a bit of a nightmarish haze. I think it safe to say that mentally, it has been the worst period I can remember in recent years this side of Chicago. And cookie – Chicago got bad.

The thing that I’ve had with managing my depression, in creating a collaborative environment for both Depression and I to be in, is that when a downward spiral starts, I don’t always know how to prevent it when there is more than one catalyst. You, my sweet, are a case in point. Life with out you is hard enough to adjust to. Add to that life a work environment that has turned so toxic that I break out in a rash thinking about it, the death of two incredibly close friends, and one health crisis after another and you can almost see how, a week ago Friday, I wind up in tears at the Priory (I know, right? What a great name for a loony bin). By this point, outraged with myself to the point that I actually started hyperventilating. My shrink – I won’t call her a lovely woman but I will give a nod to her competency – thinks I should be admitted but we’re US bound and let’s face it: the last thing the Priory needs is Ohio crazy shaking down the walls.

Something is off in my body; later that evening, I start my period unexpectedly (I know, little one; not something a boy should have to hear his mother prattle on about until he’s at least 45). And it leaves me flat out. I’ve started working with a naturopath and have started working with my acupuncturist again (who, bizarrely, I ran into outside my own house – literally, outside our flat. She had just come from looking at a house on our road. I hadn’t seen her in over a year). As I type this from a Mid-Town apartment in Manhattan, I also have numerous magnets taped across my upper body, drawing out an infection that started out as a common cold and before the 2nd sneeze had turned into Strep. I know, I know. 2010 and I have issues.

Your first Rosh Hashona has come and gone. Your first new Year. No apples and honey for you to try, no breaking the fast (not that I would’ve been with you around).
But all in all, I’m pretty lucky. My worries and woes are strictly first world and I have a pretty swish life. I mean, I’m writing this in Manhattan, for cripe’s sake, so how hard done by can I be? In the next 2 weeks I will have been in NYC, Ohio, Washington DC, back to London and then off to Prague. That, my little cherub, is pretty fucking sweet.

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