Saturday, 28 January 2012

Annus horribulus

I've been going through a slow breakdown last yet. It started in March after I had pushed myself to my limit working to earn the money to start a charity. It sounds like a stupid way to fundraise but it would mean that I would have freedom to spend the money.

The plan was to work for 2 years to earn a very good wage then put a large percentage - 50% or more - towards my charity project which combined photography, philanthropy and progressive mental health. The first step was to get the funds to buy a professional set of camera equipment and get the website set up. In March this fell through because my employer didn't pay me.

For the rest of the year I got little bits of money which was owed to me - enough to live a meagre lifestyle. I never got the rest I needed after 4 months of intense work up to March when I had expected to get paid.

It was tough for me. I tried applying for jobs I thought I could get but was turned down. Again, this hurt. I should have focused more on job hunting to get office work. Instead I continued my work at home on schizophrenia clinical guidelines. I read so many papers and so much information but was left without evidence-based answers. Well, all but one: the value of work for health.

Around September or October my mental state got pretty bad. The non-corporeal entity said I was going to die before my birthday and I welcomed it. I ploughed my efforts into finishing off my work on national clinical guidance for schizophrenia, the culmination of over 2 years of work and hundreds of unpaid hours.

Come my birthday there was no death but I was given an opportunity to work on something for NICE so that's what I spent my birthday and much of October working on.

Before my birthday my dad felt the need to kick his son when he was down. I was given a year to move out. I was told my activism was worthless and was made to feel uncared for, which is how I felt anyway. I wish I had died on my birthday but there is no release for me.

Things were so bad in summer that I had tried to admit myself to hospital but they were messing me about so I left in a rage. My girlfriend dumped me while I was trying to admit myself. A girl I was in love with called me a drunk too all within the same 24hrs.

In November I tried to writre a book when I should have been looking for work. It was a stupid thing to do but it seems all I do are stupid, pointless things.

December was tough. I was driven by a letter from the Department of Health regarding the antipsychotics dementia tragedy. I was very poor by this stage. I was also suffering the seasonal side of the mood component of my mental state. With no release from social contact, the stress of worrying about money and the extreme stress of the deaths of the elderly I was getting more insane.

Christmas Day added insult to injury. I had planned to spend it alone but instead my family were around. This was an unexpected misery.

Then came boxing day and things got worse from there.

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"