Easy come, not so easy go

A couple of days ago I wrote about the delights of unexpected guests. Guests are always delightful, not least because they’re always mates and it’s always great to see mates.

Company is wonderful. The absence of company not so much.

Tony’s Christmas visit, Catherine in January, the non-stop socialising of my trip to London in April, Mark’s visit in May, Simon and Felix’s unexpected appearance last week – all these things were a delight. While they lasted.

It’s the crash afterwards that sucks. The rude reminder that, as lovely as it was to eat, drink and be merry with excellent company, such company is the exception, not the norm.

And so, inevitably, after Simon and Felix left, I sat up so late playing spider solitaire that there was no point going to bed. And a couple of days later I stayed in bed until 7pm doing the same. Seriously, what the fuck?

And so I find myself thinking about the graphic I posted in my column last year on World Mental Health Day.

Looking at it again, I’m surprised to see no slot for Loneliness, although presumably that is what Isolation represents. And I look at the large percentage of nothingness. There have been times, when I wasn’t on meds, when I would have agreed with that, no problem, but for me now Nothing is clearly a desired destination, arrived at through nonstop games of stupid fucking spider solitaire.

Ten years ago I wrote what I think was the last poem I’ve ever written. It included the following line:

There is no need of me, you see. No love to set the demons free.

Ah, yes, it’s inevitable. Hopelessness + Self-Loathing = Isolation.

Okay, before any friends reading this rush to the phone or the house, calm down. Although I was crippled by loneliness for a couple of days after my company departed, I am no longer on crutches.

The weather is beautiful, the garden swing beckons and tonight I will sleep on bedding dried in the sun today. Life could be so very much worse.

I just wanted to acknowledge the crash. Cuz, you know, that’s the whole point of the Black Dog Diary, isn’t it?