GLENARN IN SPRINGTIME.

GLENARN IN SPRINGTIME.

Those petals; pink blushed, translucent from the sunshine were stunning. Wendy and myself and the children had taken a break to walk in Glenarn Gardens, with its streams and rhododendron and magnolia blossom, its daffodils and high trees, its view out over the Gareloch.

I find it hard to understand how fortunate I am nowadays. Yesterday I was talking to a friend who has mental health problems and who was once a CPN. She finished our call saying how refreshing it was to hear sense and perspective for once, and how wonderful my life had become in the last few years. She then joked about the wise advice madmen can give, which made us both laugh happily.

I do have a blessed life nowadays. I still worry that the children or Wendy will hear me when I am alone in the house and tell the silence around me that I want to die. I still wonder if I should, but that imperative is faint now. I hold onto life and find my memories of being under ‘constant obs’ in hospital; having to go to the toilet in front of the staff hard to recognise as a reality anymore.

When I told my friend the ex-CPN, that I was just lucky she said, yes I was lucky but that I had worked hard to get to where I am now. I don’t believe her, I think it is good fortune and the world around me.

As we continued our walk Wendy talked, as she does; laughed. The children ran around in the damp mossy grass. James decided he hated his lunch.

At the quiet bench James spoke loudly in a stage whisper and in between listening to the bird song, we laughed together at our conduct. The woods smelt of earth and coolness, of damp freshness and in patches were sweet with blossom.

It was a fairy tale walk; this journey has turned into a fairy tale life. I am no longer called ‘Schizo’, or ‘Psycho’. I no longer anticipate chairs being thrown across the room at me or being spat at by someone who claims she loves me.

Instead I walk with a brown fluffy labradoodle; wee Charlotte never wastes a chance to tell me she loves me. James is almost funny when he tries to stop Wendy kissing me. I wake to the school run, I take breaks from zoom and teams to walk in places like Glenarn. Everyday I find places and moments like this; hand in hand, scuffing the leaves; looking at the silver of the sea in the distance.

I am no longer hated and I am no longer alone. I make lunches for our stops at wee benches. I photograph the magnolia, photograph this miraculous family who have given me a reason to continue to walk and live and admire the leaves and flowers around me.

I am walking a springtime dream, and, to my astonishment, every moment is real.

First published in ‘The Bothy Blether.’

(Photo: Magnolia blossom. Glenarn Gardens. April 2021)