I have a long running joke with my counselling team….When I head back to the reception desk at the end of a session, the question “Next Appointment ?” is invariably posed, to which I reply “Nope, I’m cured….”
At my last session on Friday we reviewed my progress in light of where I was mentally this time last year. “Definitely Cured !!!” was the conclusion….
But it seems like there are degrees of “Cured” The dark pit, in which I found myself last year is a very distant memory, but last night I still found myself calculating the kinetic energy of the blade tips of our new huge high powered floor standing bedroom fan.
At 1500 rpm, a single blade tip has around 290 joules of energy I concluded, and then I pondered if that was sufficient to bring about my demise if my head was introduced into its path. A most unpleasant thought, that makes manifest the nature of the ongoing internal conflict I experience. Knowing that I should carry on, and fighting the belief my existence is futile. The Black Dog sat on my chest is intent on squeezing the life out of me and I’m intent on fighting.
So, vastly improved, but not cured.
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