Writing as therapy.

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Fleetwood Mac famously sang a song with the lyrics, never break ‘The Chain’. This to my mind, speaks of human relationships and social bonds, even it may be, romantic relationships.

Chains may also be bonds, of memory, something evocative of love or relationships. But, what happens when you wish to break the chains of a previous relationship of set of memories? It only takes something or someone to come along and fix these broken chains to establish the connections of old memories. New must come from the old as some might say.

When I was seriously ill, with Schizophrenia, I personally needed to break away from my past sins and social infringements in my mind. But now, eight years on when I think of rebirth or recovery from psychosis, it’s almost impossible to see where the benefit lies: something has been lost in my attempts to free myself from feelings of guilt and sin.

There is a serious point to this trade-off, between loss of memory while attempting to recover from illness and genuine improvement, again in a psychological sense.

This is a genuine conundrum a puzzle I must solve if I wish to have any sense of meaningful recovery, or life for myself.

At times I have despaired, broken the chains from hope, but I have carried on. Now I feel something of that despair is creeping into my life again. People talk of the importance of society and relationships, but what happens when you feel alone. Here, you don’t need to be totally alone, but nevertheless you feel disempowered and separated from your’ sense of power and control over your own life. Seriously, at time this writing is the best thing I can do for myself – or else I will simply wallow in my own desperation.

With a short break, I can not now even find ways out. I feel I don’t want to do anything for self and all efforts are then pointless. I had such high aspirations for myself in the past, which are now in the dirt. I wished to settle down and have children, have a good job and friends but that is now a distant impossibility. I am not getting younger and I have serious psychological health issues. But I have a roof over my head and money in my pocket; sometimes these things keep me alive. Such a contrast.

I have always tried to be a good person, but i’m getting to the stage where i just don’t have aspirations like those I once had, anymore.

If there is one thing which can be said, it is that I am still alive and that matters!