18-8-2021: Day 68
Life’s becoming a landslide, as the Manic Street Preachers coined the phrase in a stirring song title on ‘Gold Against the Soul’. Since I switched-up the psych meds, increased the dose to a whopping 20mg, I’ve been submerged in a nightly and daily landslide of mental mud, scree, and slate. This landslide of the mind has buried my headspace, routine, and recovery regime and has left me struggling to come up for air.
So, I go to ground, or bed, to escape the Voices, to escape the crushing weight of woeful inadequacy I feel on the blink of the dawn’s eye. But somewhere – in amongst the visceral pain, the stinging grief and metallic muscle memory of past battles with ancient demons – there is a little candle of hope that burns. And every night, I light a candle to remind me of the one that never goes out.