Anxiety Depression Crash Part 3.

1430 September 10th 2020. Richmond London. Sat on the balcony.

Sheila's third floor flat (more shortly) has a balcony, small but enough for table and chairs. I installed decking two years ago which makes the edge more of a parapet wall (not very high) than a proper one. I have suffered from vertigo for many years.

In Part 2, (click here if you missed it) I talk of my breakdown starting at Xmas in Cornwall. We walked along the South West coast path, guilt surging and a just pregnant wife. As we had to cross a ledge my vertigo took over, jump over, no turn to jelly and slide over, worse still take your wife with you. 

I rushed away from the edge and suggested we went back. I once tried to walk across the Golden gate bridge only to have the same experience at another time of stress. I don’t (and love skiing) do ledges.

1500 September 10th, sat on balcony. Panic slowly sets in, I’m going over. ‘no, you’re not, don’t be silly’. Yes I can feel it, I’m going over….. This continued until I came inside and closed the door. The voice in my head continued and continued.

Ruck sack packed and bus into town. Walk to the park via Tesco, bananas and protein bars. Sit on bench, voice gets louder, ‘you can’t go back you will go over the balcony’. ‘Voice in my head, please fuck off’. Voice in my heads like a riot, two fucking hours!

Question to myself;  If you will dig up your past breakdowns and talk about ledges, vertigo and panic attacks, what do you expect?

And that is what life is like for a manic depressive (Bi-polar to be politically correct) on a daily, weekly and sometimes monthly basis.

I listened to an interview with Alistair Campbell (Tony Blairs spin dude) today and he describes the above almost to the letter.

However back to early July.

Sherborne, Dorset. Lying in the bed Sheila died in, cuddling a pillow, full of opioids and the voices begin. ‘You did that wrong, you let sheila fall out of bed, not attentive enough, obsessed with your blogs and didn’t care for her, you fell out in the Summer, Amsterdam in October, etc etc. Every negative the voice could throw at me.

Fuck it, there are still ten cans of Stella (only had eight at the start of all this – and two pints in pub) in kitchen. Two cans later I improved and even hobbled, knee now worse than back, into the garden. Not a good idea as weeds and overgrown lawn not a pretty site. Six (more) cans later I returned to bed and crashed. Needed a bucked to wee in as pain too much to make the loo. Shoulder (bursitis) now screaming. Interesting fact, the morphine eased my back but made no difference to shoulder. Codeine helped that one.

Next day I drove, with a back-support corset, to Sainsbury’s for food (my builder mate had shopped for me whilst out of it). No I didn’t go for food, I went for 2 x 18 pack of Stella.

The Stella lasted four day after which I repeated the same exercise, twice!

I’m now sat by the balcony and the voice just reminded me,  I’m meant to go over. He ho.

Part 4. A friend in need is a friend indeed. A friend with weed is better. Click to enjoy.