A mind cursed by too much bliss
Last 6 months (part 2)
In the beginning of March I spent almost two weeks at my brother's in Croydon. I couldn't bear that galloping noise and those manic rages any longer. I seemed to relax and feel better over there, until we had the unhappy idea of going back home to fetch some clean clothes. Hell broke loose and the police was called by the neighbours. Luckily it all went well in the end but it has shocked us for a while. I felt immensely guilty for involving my brother and my husband in this. For putting them all in danger. Anyway, I went back to my brother's until I was forced to leave because of the problems in his relationship. I started taking a low dose of Risperidol in order to keep my irritability under control and surprisingly it seemed to help, although the drowsiness was incredible. But it kept me going for a while until I started getting the rages again because of the noise upstairs. And here we go again...as soon as I took the Risperidol away mania comes back and strickes again.
Luckily I managed to survive until the performance week at the end of May. We stayed in a hotel in Sevenoaks so that I could think of nothing but the performance for the whole week. The first dress rehearsal was tough, I was exhausted by numerous days of irritability and many violent shouting rages.
But the rest of the week was a dream, a stream of fresh air in a prison cell, a cool flow of water after having been in the scorching heat for too long. It brought me such relief and true happiness, the deepest satisfaction to have achieved something that seemed to be highly appreciated by all. The performances went really well and recharged my soul with a feeling I had long forgotten. True well being, true joy of living, true sense of accomplishment. Shame it only lasted for 3 days. The last performance was truly hard as I was utterly exhausted and knew I would be back home the next day. I cried all the way back home on the train that night.
Like Cinderella, I had to rush back to catch the train after the show. One minute I was on stage dressed like a princess, being clapped, admired and complimented, the minute after the spell was broken and I was myself again. The pennyless, fat, crazy and not so young anymore little servant dressed in humble rags , sadly staring at the fireplace.