Hey you crazy muthas... things is much betta in the land of mo... sleep is now down to around 6 hours per night and music is high on the agenda. I am feeling much better and much more active, I was asked to contribute an old song of mine to a local charity CD. However, after listening to my original version I thought it was shite, so spent the past couple of days recording a new version. I say a couple of days but it's taken me a week to get it right. It's such a pain having to record everything in individual tracks, part by part. I wish I had session musicians, I could do everything in a few minutes rather than days. Anyway, I've finally got it done and dusted... it's not perfect but fuck... it's only a bedroom recording.
I've had a few anxious moments during the past few days when I've got quite worked up. Some days I've taken chlorpromazine (Largactil/Thorazine) to calm down, some days alcohol. The chlorpromazine gives me palpitations, the booze gives me mouth ulcers and diarrhoea, so I switch between the two. Thank fuck the shrink isn't in the picture at the moment, she would put the cart before the horse and stupidly tell me the booze caused the anxiety. They always get it wrong and see us as neat little diagnoses (or dual diagnoses) that fit snugly into cute little boxes. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I don't think I fit any of their boxes. It's such a great relief not having any medical intervention at the moment, it always freaks me out. Thankfully I don't see Dr Moonstone again until the end of April. I still dread coming into contact with any fucking "carers".
Why do I do it? I have never sought help or treatment. I have always been badgered into it. I only participate to please my wife. I continue to take the pills but ever since the driving licence charade when the shrink betrayed what I had said to her in confidence (and relayed all to the DVLA), I no longer confide in her. Discussing my feelings and personal issues was always an alien experience anyway, it never felt right. I had been brought up to be tight lipped and forbidden to express anything that wasn't positive and upbeat so it's good to put that behind me.
I'm back doing the community radio show again and once again I'm perplexed as to who I should be. Mr Confident? Part of me wants to be quiet and introverted but after spending 40 years masquerading as a superficial, loud mouthed fool, it's so easy to fall back into the role of the court jester. This comes easy in the safety of the studio but on the other six days of the week if I ever venture out of the house I wear a baseball cap and pin my eyes on the ground avoiding all contact with the human race. This is in sharp contrast to my previous gregarious personality and surely irritates the good people of Smalltown and ensures their annoyance of me and increases my alienation.
But hey, this started out as a positive post and positive it shall remain. I am really well at the moment and next week we go on holiday and I am determined that Mrs Mo shall have a good time (even though I hate fuckin' holidays, I am a real homebird). I have downloaded numerous audiobooks for my MP3 player and even if I don't want to do the holiday thang I will happily stay in the room , lie in bed and listen to the books and snooze.