It is a brief explanation and apology for the absence of any blog posts. (And also continues from the last words of the last post with another John Lydon reference, if you know your PiL. Or, if you prefer your references more highbrow, we could say it’s Rene Magritte instead.)
So, anyway, yes, sorry about the lack of posts. I am no longer quite so insomniac as I was – I’m getting 3-4hrs a “night”, which, comparatively speaking, is heaven, let me tell you – and that means the edge of desperation that was underlying everything has eased away a little. I’m not exactly – or even particularly – on an even keel yet, and am still being plagued by (what I assume are) phantom smells on a fairly regular basis, plus a lot of very unpleasant and rather intrusive thoughts. I’m (involuntarily) replaying in my head a lot of old arguments and fights with dead people, and then berating myself for my meanness, which is lots of fun, as you can probably guess. I’m relatively certain that dying is the required way of atoning for my past awfulness – hey, it makes a change from thinking I should die because the present-day world would be better off without me, and a change is as good as a rest, right? – but I’m a very, very, very long way from being actively suicidal, so concern and worry on the part of kind and sympathetic blog readers is not required.
I am slightly concerned for my safety, not in the sense of being worried that I’ll actively harm myself, but in an absent-mindedly-wandering-into-the-traffic kind of way. I am finding that – an aspect of the intrusive thoughts, I think – strange and disturbing images are rushing into my head from time to time. It is not as though I am actually seeing them in the way that I am smelling (and, less often, hearing) things that (probably) aren’t there, so I’m not sure I would class them as hallucinations, but it feels as though they are momentarily occupying those parts of my brain that normally process visual information. It feels as though my attention is momentarily – and overwhelmingly – internally focussed, to the exclusion of what is happening on the outside of my skull, and I am slightly concerned about what this would mean if it cropped up in certain circumstances. It would be irritating to fail to respond to an 18-wheel truck barrelling down the road towards me because my mind has decided I need to look at a photo-realistic picture of a hacked-up corpse instead. Anyway, I’m taking steps to offset the danger – if there actually is any – by looking obsessively round me in every direction several times before stepping off a pavement. This has the disadvantage of making me look like weirdly paranoid loony, but the advantage of meaning that I don’t end up as a puree of inattentive loony under the wheels of the No 57 bus.
I’ve just re-read what I’ve written, and I feel the need to say that things aren’t as unrelentingly awful as this makes them seen. For example, I’ve got (some of) my concentration span back. I watched the whole of Being Human in a single go last night, which is something I wasn’t capable of a week ago. So, you know, things are jogging along. And I’m still me, if you know what I mean. At the centre of my skull the little mini-me is still hunkered down and safe, still taking note of things, which I find reassuring.
Anyway, that’s been the purpose of this, to tell you that, despite the lack of posts, I’m ok: not great, not good, but ok.
And this hasn’t been a blog post.