Paul, I value the intimacy of your writing. Whether reflecting on your thoughts while alone or with others, your life experiences are brutally honest and intimate. Thank you for writing.
Towards the end of last year it occurred to me that I needed some perspective on life. What I actually needed was a great measure of distance between myself and what I regarded as normality. I also wanted to teach myself how to sketch.
As I did not fancy being interrupted or distracted while I was doing all of this thinking and drawing, I decided that the best approach would be to self-isolate, to the extent that I have not spoken to, or been spoken to by, another human being in 2025, or had any kind of meaningful social encounter with anyone at all this year. I would expect/hope this state of affairs to persist until the end of March, when I have, within a few days of each other, a dental appointment and an MRI scan. My dentist usually expects some semblance of a back and forth dialogue while he has his fingers jammed inside my mouth. I will certainly have to communicate with the staff at the scanning unit. I was planning on entertaining guests for February Christmas, which occurs on the 25th of the month, but have decided that I will instead mark the occasion alone this year.
I am not completely isolated. I am online and cast my opinions on a variety of issues far and wide across the digital void in an effort to stir up signs of life elsewhere. I am also engaged in a sporadic email conversation with a retired professor of sociology (he had the good sense to teach in the Gulf States and now has the wherewithal to part ways with Adorno et al at a relatively young age) concerning what we both regard as a dramatic escalation in the shameful and dishonourable practice of simping.
When I was sleeping rough in London, I was frequently hungry and/or cold. I was also bored out of my mind. Occasionally I was terrified and, at one point, when a gang of around twelve youths were kicking and punching me on the pavement early one morning, I thought that I was about to be murdered. Worse than all of that was the isolation, which played out in a crowded urban setting where I was surrounded by the conversations and the social interactions of others but excluded from that world. As the days wore on I could feel my own sense of identity vanishing and I couldn't stop it. It was a horrible sensation that is impossible to articulate in words. I have gained some sympathy for those who suffer from extreme and inescapable mental illness.
I wondered about the impact of prolonged isolation in a more stable setting. Would I go mad again? A big part of my problem in London was that I didn't eat for days on end and my physical decline probably accelerated my mental decline. Fortunately, at present, I am more able to look after myself. I eat sparingly. I bath as normal. I exercise with weights and by taking hour-long late night walks through an insalubrious part of town carrying a rucksack that I have filled with house bricks. I have been experimenting with holotropic breathing which, in the interests of safety, you are supposed to do with a guide. My feeling on the matter is that nobody walks through the portals of Valhalla hand in hand; there's a point where you have to man up and face your demons. Early on I experienced episodes of hysterics and, since then, some relatively minor hallucinations have begun to creep in. You just have to stay calm and remind yourself that nothing you see can physically hurt you; it can only destroy you mentally.
Other than that, I structure my time around daily tasks. To protect my voice, I read out loud for an hour or so – some fiction and some poetry. I reserve my quiet reading for factual works. I have moved away from the computer keyboard and have been writing longhand – a few months from now I will self publish another book. I am becoming adept at drawing chameleons. I must buy myself some better pencils.
There has been a noticeable sharpening of my senses. I thought I was imagining it, but having done some research there does appear to be a precedent; I assume it is some evolutionary survival mechanism. My sleep patterns have organically separated into a pair of three-hour periods, with several hours in-between.
One other thing I have noticed is that, outside of the holotropic breathwork, which is always a roll of the die, I am experiencing no strong emotions. I am neither happy nor sad, or anything at all. It makes me wonder how much of our emotional state is a product of our social interactions with others.
You are a survivor above all else, and you are right to keep busy by writing another book and following your routine. It is also so important to look after yourself. You are an example of someone who keeps trying despite your problems. You are an inspiration.
Interesting how people are anxious to meet someone sad. Who knows, maybe, like good mood, sadness is contagious.
The main reason why I come back to read each if your post is exactly that rebellious refusal to mask yourself up behind some positive psychology bollocks. Instead you offer a glimpse into a world of shit and despair to saw discomfort into the ablist world. I like it, (but as a loyal and attached reader I wish you to feel well)
Smith and Hume have all bases covered every time it seems!
These posts are so well written and it's really valuable the insight they offer. It's honestly a relief to read the above after not being able to head down south for a visit for so long now, to know that your mood can be so lifted by company is a beautiful thing in itself and a hopeful sign of the future. I can't imagine anyone for a second thinks you're 'faking' anything. I think I can understand the feelings of embarrassment or guilt around the darker posts when you're interacting offline. But it's a courageous and important thing you do giving people an understanding of what you (and others in similar situations) are going through. It seems giving that voice a written platform has been a fundamental part of the 'dance' towards the acceptance you have written about seeking and awaiting.
Thinking of you all the time mate. Need to get my arse down to London in 2025
This is something I reflected on myself recently. I've been having a bad time recently, but when my friend asked me how I was doing I didn't want to bring her down. So I looked for the positive nuggets I could share - and actually changed my mindset in the process
I'm another long-time follower who found your blog through Hanif Kurerishi.. I have always found your posts to be bracing, honest, compelling, and most of all beautifully written. I think every time I comment I say something about how much I've learned from you so you're probably rolling your eyes but it's true. I've worked with people with disabilities for many years and the experiences you share are valuable from that perspective. More importantly, just as another human being I appreciate you sharing your intimate thoughts and feelings so candidly. Thank you so much for posting the good and especially the bad. I keep reading, learning, and caring.
Dear Paul, l have followed your raw, compelling writing since you were recommended by Hanif Kurerishi. This last post is wonderfully inspiring for me (sorry, l don't like the cliché but that's what it comes down to). That's because you've demonstrated what the human spirit is capable of doing: it sounds like you're becoming more accepting of your fate. Dare l say, more positive.
Acceptance is a big red thread through my life. The 'shit' started with a car crash resulting in permanent disability at age 17 and now l've got parkinson's disease as well. Acceptance is key to being happy, l've discovered. Accepting life fully, just as it is. I have turned to Buddhism for emotional and spiritual support. I watch lots of podcasts on YouTube. 'Modern Buddhism' is a good channel. Teachers such as Ram Dass resonate deeply too. I'm not trying to proselytise, but sometimes sharing positive experiences might help. I'm definitely not saying either that l'm permanently zen! Not at all. But Buddhism is a sort of anchor to steady myself and find meaning in life. Love and best wishes, Sarah ❤️
I love reading your posts! Very dark, but very eloquent.. Having worked in the 'caring profession', much that I recognise too. Keep on writing, please! X
This is a lovely post. I like reading your reflections, whatever mood you're in, but this post is a nice reminder that socialising is good for us, and can help to bring us out of ourselves. You are just as interesting as you ever were.
This is direct personal testimony to the possibility of the mind and spirit. How beautiful.
And I can add that I know of what you speak, Paul. Not in the same form, but in the formless, invisible world of what's truer.
What you are doing here is a generous act of, and for, humanity. And simultaneously as you offer this, and as you say, you feel some peace and elevation.
Blessings to you, and All who amidst the myriad dire and other varieties of circumstances and moments included in this life, somehow elevate their energy, that formless, mysterious animator, regulator of emotions, thoughts and all form.
I love reading your posts, I've been wondering what exactly it is that I love about them. I do find your story compelling, but really, it is the way you write about your story that is compelling. I am pretty sure that I would enjoy anything you write, so please continue. Thank you!
Paul, I value the intimacy of your writing. Whether reflecting on your thoughts while alone or with others, your life experiences are brutally honest and intimate. Thank you for writing.
I take it this means I still have to come round later… 😉
Towards the end of last year it occurred to me that I needed some perspective on life. What I actually needed was a great measure of distance between myself and what I regarded as normality. I also wanted to teach myself how to sketch.
As I did not fancy being interrupted or distracted while I was doing all of this thinking and drawing, I decided that the best approach would be to self-isolate, to the extent that I have not spoken to, or been spoken to by, another human being in 2025, or had any kind of meaningful social encounter with anyone at all this year. I would expect/hope this state of affairs to persist until the end of March, when I have, within a few days of each other, a dental appointment and an MRI scan. My dentist usually expects some semblance of a back and forth dialogue while he has his fingers jammed inside my mouth. I will certainly have to communicate with the staff at the scanning unit. I was planning on entertaining guests for February Christmas, which occurs on the 25th of the month, but have decided that I will instead mark the occasion alone this year.
I am not completely isolated. I am online and cast my opinions on a variety of issues far and wide across the digital void in an effort to stir up signs of life elsewhere. I am also engaged in a sporadic email conversation with a retired professor of sociology (he had the good sense to teach in the Gulf States and now has the wherewithal to part ways with Adorno et al at a relatively young age) concerning what we both regard as a dramatic escalation in the shameful and dishonourable practice of simping.
When I was sleeping rough in London, I was frequently hungry and/or cold. I was also bored out of my mind. Occasionally I was terrified and, at one point, when a gang of around twelve youths were kicking and punching me on the pavement early one morning, I thought that I was about to be murdered. Worse than all of that was the isolation, which played out in a crowded urban setting where I was surrounded by the conversations and the social interactions of others but excluded from that world. As the days wore on I could feel my own sense of identity vanishing and I couldn't stop it. It was a horrible sensation that is impossible to articulate in words. I have gained some sympathy for those who suffer from extreme and inescapable mental illness.
I wondered about the impact of prolonged isolation in a more stable setting. Would I go mad again? A big part of my problem in London was that I didn't eat for days on end and my physical decline probably accelerated my mental decline. Fortunately, at present, I am more able to look after myself. I eat sparingly. I bath as normal. I exercise with weights and by taking hour-long late night walks through an insalubrious part of town carrying a rucksack that I have filled with house bricks. I have been experimenting with holotropic breathing which, in the interests of safety, you are supposed to do with a guide. My feeling on the matter is that nobody walks through the portals of Valhalla hand in hand; there's a point where you have to man up and face your demons. Early on I experienced episodes of hysterics and, since then, some relatively minor hallucinations have begun to creep in. You just have to stay calm and remind yourself that nothing you see can physically hurt you; it can only destroy you mentally.
Other than that, I structure my time around daily tasks. To protect my voice, I read out loud for an hour or so – some fiction and some poetry. I reserve my quiet reading for factual works. I have moved away from the computer keyboard and have been writing longhand – a few months from now I will self publish another book. I am becoming adept at drawing chameleons. I must buy myself some better pencils.
There has been a noticeable sharpening of my senses. I thought I was imagining it, but having done some research there does appear to be a precedent; I assume it is some evolutionary survival mechanism. My sleep patterns have organically separated into a pair of three-hour periods, with several hours in-between.
One other thing I have noticed is that, outside of the holotropic breathwork, which is always a roll of the die, I am experiencing no strong emotions. I am neither happy nor sad, or anything at all. It makes me wonder how much of our emotional state is a product of our social interactions with others.
You are a survivor above all else, and you are right to keep busy by writing another book and following your routine. It is also so important to look after yourself. You are an example of someone who keeps trying despite your problems. You are an inspiration.
Paul you sent me this message in error
I quite like that voice.
Interesting how people are anxious to meet someone sad. Who knows, maybe, like good mood, sadness is contagious.
The main reason why I come back to read each if your post is exactly that rebellious refusal to mask yourself up behind some positive psychology bollocks. Instead you offer a glimpse into a world of shit and despair to saw discomfort into the ablist world. I like it, (but as a loyal and attached reader I wish you to feel well)
Smith and Hume have all bases covered every time it seems!
These posts are so well written and it's really valuable the insight they offer. It's honestly a relief to read the above after not being able to head down south for a visit for so long now, to know that your mood can be so lifted by company is a beautiful thing in itself and a hopeful sign of the future. I can't imagine anyone for a second thinks you're 'faking' anything. I think I can understand the feelings of embarrassment or guilt around the darker posts when you're interacting offline. But it's a courageous and important thing you do giving people an understanding of what you (and others in similar situations) are going through. It seems giving that voice a written platform has been a fundamental part of the 'dance' towards the acceptance you have written about seeking and awaiting.
Thinking of you all the time mate. Need to get my arse down to London in 2025
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/news/new-zealand-world-accessible-capital/
Hi Paul. I've been following here for a while. I came across this article and wondered if it might be of any interest to you.
Miserable? Maybe. I see your writing as an act of extreme generosity, a public service.
I'm glad that you still enjoy company.
Thanks a million for sharing some of the light in your life Paul. Glad it's not all dark shadows. Best wishes for you in all circumstances.💚
This is something I reflected on myself recently. I've been having a bad time recently, but when my friend asked me how I was doing I didn't want to bring her down. So I looked for the positive nuggets I could share - and actually changed my mindset in the process
I find this works best when it’s voluntary rather than demanded by others (“stay positive!”)
It's infuriating to be told what to feel.
Oh definitely yes
I'm another long-time follower who found your blog through Hanif Kurerishi.. I have always found your posts to be bracing, honest, compelling, and most of all beautifully written. I think every time I comment I say something about how much I've learned from you so you're probably rolling your eyes but it's true. I've worked with people with disabilities for many years and the experiences you share are valuable from that perspective. More importantly, just as another human being I appreciate you sharing your intimate thoughts and feelings so candidly. Thank you so much for posting the good and especially the bad. I keep reading, learning, and caring.
Dear Paul, l have followed your raw, compelling writing since you were recommended by Hanif Kurerishi. This last post is wonderfully inspiring for me (sorry, l don't like the cliché but that's what it comes down to). That's because you've demonstrated what the human spirit is capable of doing: it sounds like you're becoming more accepting of your fate. Dare l say, more positive.
Acceptance is a big red thread through my life. The 'shit' started with a car crash resulting in permanent disability at age 17 and now l've got parkinson's disease as well. Acceptance is key to being happy, l've discovered. Accepting life fully, just as it is. I have turned to Buddhism for emotional and spiritual support. I watch lots of podcasts on YouTube. 'Modern Buddhism' is a good channel. Teachers such as Ram Dass resonate deeply too. I'm not trying to proselytise, but sometimes sharing positive experiences might help. I'm definitely not saying either that l'm permanently zen! Not at all. But Buddhism is a sort of anchor to steady myself and find meaning in life. Love and best wishes, Sarah ❤️
A fascinating conundrum but it makes perfect (imperfect?) sense
I love reading your posts! Very dark, but very eloquent.. Having worked in the 'caring profession', much that I recognise too. Keep on writing, please! X
This is a lovely post. I like reading your reflections, whatever mood you're in, but this post is a nice reminder that socialising is good for us, and can help to bring us out of ourselves. You are just as interesting as you ever were.
This is direct personal testimony to the possibility of the mind and spirit. How beautiful.
And I can add that I know of what you speak, Paul. Not in the same form, but in the formless, invisible world of what's truer.
What you are doing here is a generous act of, and for, humanity. And simultaneously as you offer this, and as you say, you feel some peace and elevation.
Blessings to you, and All who amidst the myriad dire and other varieties of circumstances and moments included in this life, somehow elevate their energy, that formless, mysterious animator, regulator of emotions, thoughts and all form.
I love reading your posts, I've been wondering what exactly it is that I love about them. I do find your story compelling, but really, it is the way you write about your story that is compelling. I am pretty sure that I would enjoy anything you write, so please continue. Thank you!