The Ravings of a Madman
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What you are about to read is dark and confronting. It represents a period, long gone, when my life collapsed, and I had no answers. Lack of purpose and immense grief pushed me into a marginal existence where life itself became irrelevant and at times I imagined death as offering the only release from pain. This is not uncommon; many people will have been through similar circumstances. Most survive and I am one of them. When I gave my draft to a good friend of mine for advice and comment she suggested that I write an introduction that showed that I had come through these events and that I had ...
What you are about to read is dark and confronting. It represents a period, long gone, when my life collapsed, and I had no answers. Lack of purpose and immense grief pushed me into a marginal existence where life itself became irrelevant and at times I imagined death as offering the only release from pain. This is not uncommon; many people will have been through similar circumstances. Most survive and I am one of them. When I gave my draft to a good friend of mine for advice and comment she suggested that I write an introduction that showed that I had come through these events and that I had prospered. I have. At the time I saw no way through, I didn't care to find a way through. Psychoanalysis and associated drugs, and support from friends, allowed a thinning of clouds over time. I do not believe my mind would have allowed me to rest without the release of medication and I do not believe medication would have been an option without professional help. When in a situation such as that depicted here, drugs offer a small clearance of light in a world of shadows. Yet, at the same time, I believe that trauma has a function. It slaps you in the face with a realignment of values that sometimes leads to growth. A growth partnered by change at a time when all your focus is on keeping things together; batting down the hatches to allow you to weather the storm. When the storm passes you find a new you. The first thing to suffer was business. Not only did I not care about it, but I held it partly responsible for some of the damage to my family. I was very fortunate to have some people who continued to grind away at their job, who offered support in the best way they knew how, by doing their job. It somehow survived though substantially diminished. I have never again really worked at it. The new me did not have the capacity for prolonged effort and I became a person of "projects". Most were purely indulgent, others for gain. Enough have succeeded so that I do not have an empty box awaiting a tick. I have done OK
