A Speccy Man Has A Breakdown - day 36

Listen to me reading this.

<< Day 35

Today I had lunch with a friend who visited me in hospital during the worst of it.

She knows about this stuff – breakdown, recovery, the whole messy business – not just as a friend but professionally. She is exactly the kind of person whose opinion about this book I trust.

I said I was bringing it with me.

But of course the book itself is still at the printer, so I brought my iPad. She sat opposite me, at a restaurant in Islington, and scrolled through every page.

Nearby, an elderly matriarch was given a cake with candles and waiting staff sang along to Happy Birthday. Outside, on the other side of Upper Street, couples in wedding outfits ebbed and flowed outside the register office.

Every so often my friend would look up and say oh! - in that particular tone, kind and slightly pained, that you might use when a child’s drawing turns out to be rather good. Oh dear. Oh. Oh, that’s sweet.

In between, we talked – about things we have both experienced over the many years we have known each other.

And at the end she said: I love it.

I said thank you for lunch and we went our separate ways.

What I did not say was: would you consider writing something for the jacket?

She would have been perfect. Exactly the right professional standing. She knows the territory. She has just scrolled through every page and told me she loves it. It was, as they say, there for the asking.

And I bottled it completely.

I have been thinking since about why. Asking for help – real help, the kind that matters – turns out still to be one of the hardest things.

You would think that someone who spent time in a psychiatric ward might have got over the idea that needing things from other people is somehow shameful.

Not entirely.

Anyway. I may still ask her. Or file this under things I learned about myself today and move on. Either way, it felt worth writing down.

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👉 If you or someone you know is struggling please call a crisis line, and / or take a look at Reasons To Stay.

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