M is for...

Madness.

There was a time - my second year at university, actually - when I used to write this word all over my notebooks, files and folders.

A guy in my Spanish class asked me a few times if it was because I was a fan of the group... 

Well, I liked Suggsy and the boys as much as anyone; but in truth, no, that wasn't why I wrote the word everywhere...

It wasn't a good year for me. I spiralled out of control and almost screwed everything up for real. There were various "incidents", various types of incident, that I regret. Things happened, things were done. Other people were involved. It was a tough time. But, I got through it, somehow. I'm still not entirely sure how. I kind of know who got me through it (and oh, how I wish I were still in touch with those "who"...), just not the how.

Later, when I was a student in a different town, a different country even, that word crept back into my life. I worked - out of choice - in a psychiatric hospital. I chose mental health in general, and schizophrenia in particular, as the subject of my postgraduate work.

It was another tough year (though for some different reasons, some similar), and although I didn't exactly spiral out of control, sometimes I felt close to it. There weren't any "incidents", so to speak, but there oh, so easily could have been. There was, most definitely, irrationality, irresponsibility. Stupidity, too.

Now, with tough years seemingly my new normal, I can feel the pull once again. I'm not exactly spiralling out of control - I have responsibilities, and I have other people to take into account, (little) people who depend on me, and I take all that very seriously - but I do get the distinct impression that certain elements of my life are slipping off the tracks. I know I'm not behaving rationally; I know I'm not "doing what I should" for my own life. I keep certain aspects of my life together - the girls are fed and clothed, their clothes are washed, bills (mostly) get paid, homework gets done, tax forms get sent in - whilst others are disintegrating around me, and I feel helpless to stop it happening. If I keep this up, I'll be dead before I'm 50 I should think.

I feel bitter and angry and full of... dare I say it?... hate, yet I know I'm not taking the right steps to turn my life around and make the best of what I have. And what scares me is that it's possibly some form of this word that is pulling me down, tying me to my irrational behaviour. 

I feel as if my insides are spiralling out of control, whilst my exterior keeps up those oh-so-important appearances. No one can see what a mess I am. No one can see how irrational my behaviour has become.

I know I should try to reach out, I should try to stop the rot, but I can't. I need to be strong, I need to keep going, but I'm not succeeding right now. The pull of the swirling, spiralling forces is too intense and I can feel it all starting to slip away, through my fingers...

I can't stop listening to this, either. There's something about her voice that touches me, makes me tingle. And then the lyrics - oh, the lyrics! Particularly 2:13 to 2:43...