Crumbs In Our Wake

Crumbs in Our Wake

As we walk the quiet streets of our cities in the assumed isolation of our seemingly contented spaces, we so easily and unknowingly leave crumbs of who and what we are in our wake.

Others, like pigeons of the air, swoop down and peck away at those crumbs, a meal provided by the divine hand of providence, in whom we can scarcely believe cares enough for us, even when neither bird nor beast worries, for provision does indeed come.

These crumbs tell other stories, the ones we cannot let go of because unanswered questions remain. It is unlikely we would ever get the opportunity to satisfy the curiosity that one strange encounter brings into view, even as we try to mind our own business.

A Chance Encounter

Much earlier today, a lady was coming towards me, pushing a pram. I presumed she was a grandmother, and not a walking miracle of Sarah begetting Isaac after the incredulity of her laughter at the idea that she could still bear a child.

She was adjusting a paper windmill, or pinwheel, and for that alone the expectation was that a child, reclined in the pram, was being entertained or distracted with the novelty of a spinning attraction. Had small talk ensued, it would have been about seeing a pleasantly focused, smiling toddler, whilst commending the grandmother for keeping the child at peace.

The Doll in the Pram

As I walked past, I looked to see a grinning face, teeth showing with the gaiety of the widest smile possible, even legs being thrown up in the air in acknowledgement of the object positioned for their attention. Nothing of the sort; the passenger in the ornate perambulator was a doll, unmistakably the plastic rigidity of a lifeless presence that only a doll could muster.

There was no need for a double take, but one did vacillate between concern and sympathy. Concern that this story was one of mental illness brought into the public sphere; the wish for a child now given over to the taking of a doll for an outing, with all the presence of mind to furnish that doll with the trimmings that might accompany a child.

Sympathy and Grace

Then came sympathy for whatever the tragic story might be, such as the loss of a grandchild remembered daily in this sad display of grief that I had now uncomfortably witnessed. A daily upset for her, and a lingering one for me, for how do you ask the pertinent questions?

There might be another angle, though, beyond concern or sympathy, this being eccentricity, and we all have some of that in us in different measures. Whether this be suffering expressed so vividly, or an expression too quickly misunderstood, the reality of a person's private world is not that private when brought into the public sphere.

A Good Samaritan Nature

Yet even this might not begin to cover the spectrum of life experiences that became that momentary observation, for any person's story is barely told in a brief encounter. Rather, what we know in part might define them too narrowly in comparison to who they really are.

And if we were to ignore the things we see, we could, in that very mindset, miss the moment when someone in distress could do with our Good Samaritan nature and our help.

Yet, in the crumbs that the pigeons do get to feed on, is a complete meal not better than manna, without a care for what tomorrow brings? There, but for the grace of God, go we, so that whatever story we tell might be a blessing to another.

A Gemini Notebook AI Podcast on this blog

An AI-generated infographic on the blog content.

Thought Picnic: Success, Suffering, and the System That Fails Both

The Illusion of Success

Sometimes, success appears to be a façade amid emotional turmoil, the vulnerabilities that are part of life's struggle that no one else sees. There is an assumption that if you have the means and cachet to buy anything, then you are suitably supplied to purchase your salvation.

Society simply does not recognise the struggle of the successful as legitimate. There is little sympathy for those who appear to have everything, and this dismissal creates a terrible sense of isolation in which high-achievers quickly learn that their struggles will not be taken seriously.

Misunderstanding Resilience

There is also a misguided understanding of resilience. Indeed, many of us do exhibit herculean feats of resilience against adversity, fighting storms of life that threaten to overwhelm us, but something inside refuses to give. Belief, faith, grit, or sheer guts: we are bowed but not broken, attacked but never defeated. We become the narrative of possibilities that once seemed insurmountable.

Yet this very resilience can become a trap. High-achievers are often driven by perfectionism, a relentless internal standard that demands excellence in all things. Mental illness does not respond to willpower or determination in the way that professional challenges do.

You cannot work harder to overcome depression. You cannot manoeuvre your way out of bipolar disorder. For someone whose identity is built on achievement and competence, seeking help feels like failure, an admission that you are not as capable as you believed yourself to be.

Recent Tragedies

Two stories in recent times have got me thinking that many mental health struggles are barely addressed or are given the stiff-upper-lip treatment of “you'll pull through as you always do”. We give just enough space not to interfere, and then the news drops: those stalwarts of stoicism, or what appeared to be that, have taken their own lives.

Robert Carradine, 71, died by hanging last week; he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I am in South Africa, and I have just read the news that Ian von Memerty, 61, who was Zimbabwe-born and a South African entertainer who hosted some popular television shows, had died by his own hand in Johannesburg. He had long written about the desire to take his own life.

The Reality Behind Success

None of this brings any comfort because these are successful men who had tasted the kinds of worldly success that many could not even dare to dream of, and yet it is their demons that have driven them beyond the edge of despair to suicide. The fact that these men are quite close to my age range also indicates that you probably do not grow out of the things that ail you.

Success often brings its own form of isolation. As you rise in your field, the pool of people who can truly understand your experience shrinks. Your old friends may feel the distance growing. Your new peers may be competitors rather than confidants.

The high-achiever becomes trapped in a gilded cage, surrounded by admirers but profoundly alone. This loneliness compounds mental health struggles, leaving fewer people to turn to, fewer spaces where vulnerability is possible, and fewer relationships where you are seen as a whole person rather than as your achievements.

There are also practical fears that make seeking help feel dangerous. Will your employer question your ability to perform? Will clients lose confidence in you? Will colleagues see you differently?

Despite progress in mental health awareness, significant stigma remains in professional environments. For high-achievers whose identities are deeply intertwined with their professional success, the risk feels existential.

When the System Fails You

Moreover, even when they overcome these barriers and seek help, they often find the available support inadequate for their specific needs. Therapists may struggle to understand the unique pressures of high achievement: the constant scrutiny, the isolation that comes with leadership, the weight of others' expectations.

The two times I have used therapy, because I presented none of the symptoms of depression, suicide, or a mental health crisis, it was felt I was trying to abuse the service. Yet, I had a compelling narrative. I was recovering from cancer, mounting debt meant I was about to lose my home, and my status was rock bottom.

Surely, with such a catastrophic change in life, I was a candidate for therapy. I guess because I had a modicum of coping mechanisms and I was too articulate for my situation, only shocking assertiveness could pierce into the needed support framework.

The scheduling demands of high-achievement careers often conflict with traditional therapy models, yet their chaotic schedules are often part of what is driving their mental health crisis.

Bridging the Gap

It is impossible to tell how much help, consideration, or support Carradine and von Memerty got through their struggles. For their survivors, bridging the gap between the sorrow they feel and appreciating the release that death brought to the suffering of their beloved ones is something you cannot begin to fathom.

Perhaps the most fundamental challenge is the myth of self-sufficiency that high-achievers internalise. They have succeeded through determination, intelligence, and hard work. This creates a belief that they should be able to handle anything, including their own mental health.

Cultural narratives about success emphasise individual agency and resilience, celebrating the self-made person who refused to give up or give in. These narratives leave little room for vulnerability, little space for acknowledging that sometimes, despite all your strength and capability, you need help.

A Personal Reflection

Even with my encounters with suicidal ideation, which I have written about as recently as a month ago, my only prayer still is never to be presented with no other option but to end it all. This is not said from any position of strength, ability, or capacity; rather, it is a recognition of human frailty and vulnerability. We are faced daily with a spectrum of mortality, but for the grace of God, there go we.

Addressing these challenges requires a fundamental shift in how we think about success and mental health. We need to recognise that achievement does not immunise against suffering, that success can indeed be part of what drives mental health crises rather than protecting against them. Until we can create space for high-achievers to be vulnerable, to admit to struggling, to seek help without fear of judgement or professional consequences, we will continue to lose talented, accomplished people to the silent epidemic of mental illness.

The deaths of people like Robert Carradine and Ian von Memerty should serve as a stark reminder that success is no protection against despair. The answer is that success and suffering are not opposites. They can, and often do, coexist. Recognising this uncomfortable truth is the first step towards ensuring that achievement does not become a prison from which the only escape seems to be death.

May their once-bothered souls rest in eternal peace.

Blog - Suicide When Academia Forgets Its Humanity (January 2026)

Blog - Thought Picnic: I think I need therapy (March 2011)

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Thought Picnic: Shuttling and bungling

Sacrificing the child

I can imagine the exasperation of a parent when a child, given every opportunity, does not seem to take advantage of the situations presented.

Unfortunately, they usually view this failing from the perspective of the child not trying hard enough and not appreciating the privilege they have, compared to those never afforded such luxuries of comfort, shelter, provision, and family.

Weighed against societal expectations that seem to inform and drive parents to desire children who are naturally intelligent, succeeding, and exercise initiative to the extent that parents need to boast of their wards, they are blinded to other issues.

They never consider the possibility of psychological, mental, and emotional problems exacerbated by their environment that could have resulted in the child's change in behaviour, attitude, and productivity.

Burdening the child

To address these issues, they use attribution and comparison, finding examples of the succeeding and the failing to pitch the child into a quagmire of adjustments seeking to please others without addressing the actual problem.

Now, we have some understanding that bedwetting might not just be a lack of willpower and control of one's bladder; just as sudden changes in a child's performance and ability to produce expected results is not a basic lack of application.

Issues like bullying, childhood emotional and sexual abuse could easily be the factors indicative of these changes, but parents, in their naivety, think the home, or other bubbles they have created, are free of the unspeakable interferences that rob a child of innocence and a clear conscience.

Misunderstanding the child

Worse still, parents wrongly assume that the child, if afflicted by a violation of their body, will immediately run to them with a complaint when they have never created the atmosphere for that kind of troublesome conversation.

They are dealing with the symptoms without being intelligent about seeking the cause.

Whether the parent eventually appreciates this or not, the child carries these unfortunate failings of care and consideration into adulthood, at times damaged or simply resentful. Others find the kind of therapy that helps them move forward.

For instance, I was 52 when my father first learnt that I was sexually abused from the age of 8. This was prompted because, once again, he was trying to address the symptom of my homosexuality, causing him embarrassment, rather than knowing who his son is.

Losing the child

What I did not reveal in that exchange, which would have caused ructions beyond repair, was that my first sexual encounter was at 7, and I had no clue what was going on, but the playful intentions of the other destroyed the bubble of childhood bliss that one inhabited.

If anyone had been curious enough to look at what was happening, maybe, just maybe, there would have been a better relationship between parent and child.

However, the total breakdown of the relationship between my mother and I did not start in August 2023.

What we tried to build upon left lots of unresolved issues that, in African culture, I am not supposed to hold my elders accountable for. Then, whilst I might have an African heritage, I am hardly African, by any stretch of the imagination.

What parents easily overlook (AI-generated)

Since we are in the age of AI, having reviewed my blog above, I asked for it to share some common signs of childhood trauma that parents often overlook. The text following was generated by AI, and I believe it contributes to the conversation, prompted by my blog above.

Behavioural Changes

Academic decline - Sudden drops in grades or loss of interest in schoolwork that was previously enjoyed. Parents often attribute this to laziness rather than considering underlying distress.

Social withdrawal - A child who was once outgoing becomes isolated, avoids friends, or stops participating in activities they previously loved.

Aggression or defiance - Increased anger, talking back, or acting out. Parents may see this as typical teenage rebellion or poor discipline rather than a cry for help.

Regression - Returning to behaviours from earlier developmental stages, such as thumb-sucking, baby talk, or clinginess in older children.

Physical Manifestations

Sleep disturbances - Nightmares, difficulty falling asleep, fear of sleeping alone, or sleeping too much as an escape mechanism.

Bedwetting or toileting accidents - As you mentioned in your post, this is often dismissed as a control issue rather than a stress response.

Unexplained physical complaints - Frequent headaches, stomach aches, or general unwellness without medical cause.

Changes in eating habits - Either loss of appetite or comfort eating, which parents might dismiss as "just a phase".

Emotional Indicators

Heightened anxiety - Excessive worry, panic attacks, or fear of separation from parents or specific places.

Emotional numbness - A child who seems disconnected, shows little emotion, or appears "too mature" for their age. Parents sometimes praise this as being "well-behaved" or "independent".

Excessive guilt or shame - Taking blame for things beyond their control or expressing feelings of worthlessness.

Mood swings - Rapid changes between anger, sadness, and apparent normalcy that seem disproportionate to situations.

Cognitive and Developmental Signs

Difficulty concentrating - Inability to focus on tasks, appearing distracted or "in their own world".

Memory problems - Forgetting things they previously knew or seeming confused about recent events.

Developmental delays - Falling behind in speech, motor skills, or social development without obvious cause.

Red Flags Often Dismissed

Sexualised behaviour - Age-inappropriate knowledge of or interest in sexual matters. Parents often dismiss this as "curiosity" or something picked up from media.

Fear of specific people or places - Intense reactions to certain individuals or locations that parents attribute to "shyness" or "being difficult".

Perfectionism or people-pleasing - Desperate attempts to be "good" or avoid disappointing others, which parents often celebrate rather than question.

Self-harm or risk-taking - In older children, this might manifest as cutting, substance use, or dangerous behaviours that parents view as attention-seeking.

Why Parents Miss These Signs

Cultural expectations - As you noted, some cultures discourage questioning elders or discussing uncomfortable topics, creating barriers to disclosure.

Assumption of safety - Parents believe their home or supervised environments are inherently safe, blinding them to potential threats.

Normalising symptoms - Attributing changes to "phases", puberty, or typical childhood behaviour rather than investigating deeper causes.

Lack of open communication - Never establishing an atmosphere where children feel safe discussing troubling experiences, particularly around sexuality or abuse.

Focus on outcomes - Being more concerned with grades, behaviour, and social standing than the child's internal emotional state.

Denial - The possibility that something terrible has happened to their child is too painful to contemplate, so warning signs are rationalised away.

The Critical Point

As you powerfully illustrated in your blog, these signs are often symptoms of deeper trauma. Parents who focus solely on correcting the behaviour without seeking the underlying cause risk compounding the damage. The child learns that their pain is invisible, their distress is dismissed, and they must carry their burden alone into adulthood.

Creating an environment where difficult conversations are possible, where children know they'll be believed and supported, and where parents look beyond surface behaviours to understand their child's inner world, can make the difference between a lifetime of unresolved trauma and the possibility of healing.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester - LXXVIII

A spectacle of living

Manchester Presents would be a fitting title for a programme that highlights the intriguing peculiarities of this city, demonstrated through its residents and their way of life and pursuits.

I generally consider myself more of an observer than a participant. Usually, I find out about events in my city long after they happen. If I happen to learn about something before it occurs, I might make a mental note, but due to disinterest or lethargy, it often slips my mind.

However, whenever I step out for something as mundane as shopping for essentials, these encounters make me wonder if there’s more to the beating heart of Manchester—something I have yet to fully grasp after nearly 12 years of living here.

But a polemicist

For example, I was on a bus returning from the shops when a lady of South Asian origin boarded. Stylish and quite sophisticated, her makeup stood out—her eyes accentuated with black markings resembling the upper rim of large, rectangular spectacles.

That alone would have been an interesting story. Then she started to speak—at first I thought she was on a phone call until I realised she was addressing us, the passengers on the lower deck. She wasn’t a preacher, a few of whom I’ve seen, but not in Manchester.

When I understood what she was saying—her somewhat coherent remarks—it was polemical, with references to government involvement in fraud, with the citing of sections and paragraphs too. If I had been paying closer attention earlier, I might have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Achievement without recognition

If I heard her correctly, she was either a professor of Punjabi literature or a close relative of one, and her father was a renowned professor named Kohli. She even spelt it out. Then she launched into a tirade about prejudice, racism, and not being recognised because she had brown skin.

Despite her accent, she exhibited every sign of a good education, with flawless grammar and a conviction in her delivery that persisted until she disembarked. It seemed she was making a case—perhaps a grievance or an injustice still bothering her.

Upon reflection, I suspected she might have been a victim of a miscarriage of justice influenced by prejudice, racism, workplace harassment, maybe denied promotion—situations often encountered in academia—and this appeared to have affected her mental health, reflected in her behaviour on the bus.

May she find peace

At the very least, she probably needs therapy. I was quite concerned about her, and I’m somewhat relieved that no one tried to silence her. As disturbing as it was, we simply let her vent her spleen, though there was more to it than met the eye. I sincerely hope she receives the help she needs.

For a lady who, by her bearing, could be of a certain age above the golden jubilee, there’s little to distinguish eccentricity from being sectioned. On that spectrum, she seems closer to the latter. I truly hope she finds peace.

Meanwhile, no face masks seen, but some of us are still taking Coronavirus booster jabs.

A catchup on the check-up

As things seem to be

Five weeks later than schedule, I was back in hospital for my biannual check-up which follows the usual routine of reviewing the results from tests conducted on my last visit, how I am both medically and mentally, along with other issues that might come up.

In these straitened times that even I in all my denial of reality sometimes suggests does not affect me, there is a sense of dissatisfaction in the state of affairs, a sad feeling of betrayal of confidences and trust that gave the impression of prospect where there was none, then with quite limited resources to hand, one is constrained in agency and autonomy.

It goes without saying that all these has its effects to either a greater or lesser degree on one’s health. Yet we soldier on believing that the travails of the present are temporary and would pass into the annals of recount and raconteuring with a wistful acknowledgement of how trying times have blessed us with an appreciation of the better things that have followed.

Something quite unexpected

In the review of the last battery of tests, I was unaware of an indicative test that had been conducted as neither my general practitioner (GP) nor I were informed of the result. My understanding was the test was rarely done and only annually, if necessary. However, on the consultant’s screen, I could see a third is the depreciation of an indicator that signalled my ability to fight infection with no clear reason as to why that might have happened.

It is a matter of concern, but one will have to wait for the results of tests conducted on fluids taken earlier today to determine if that was a mistake, an aberration, or a trend. With the new computer records system, you are notified of the result as soon as it is known.

Those hardworking kidneys

Beyond that, I wanted some close attention paid to my kidney function tests as the antiretroviral formulary I am on has been administered for over 12 and a half years. One of the components in the combination therapy can cause kidney impairment and I wanted that aspect monitored. However, looking at the trends in my kidney function tests over the last 4 years suggested I did not have anything to worry about.

The discussion nevertheless allows the consultant to pay a bit more heed to the indicators apart from being acquainted with the fact that I quite knowledgeable about my condition, the therapies, and developments in HIV medicine with the view to obtaining the best outcomes for my health and wellbeing.

Drink lots of aqua

Having had 3 instances where drawing blood was an ordeal, my cousin had given me some advice some months ago, so, from the moment I woke up, I was drinking lots of water, something Brian noted as unusual for me. By the time I was at the hospital this morning, I had drunk over a litre of water.

When I went to see the phlebotomist, my veins were in the Christmas spirit as for how my blood filled the vials, we could intone, “Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow.”, and soon, 7 vials were filled without the need for another prick in my arm.

Everything is electronic now, things are called up on computer and there were no forms for new appointments or prescriptions, you just had to give your name and date of birth along with some other personal information to get things done. The days was slow and tiring, in general, I felt good. I will just wait for the results for comparison and the next meet-up is in 6 months, I guess.

Thought Picnic: A clam seeking calm

A fish climbing trees

I find that I could be quite internally irritable, seeking the convenience and comfort of my recluse than engage with anything or anyone. Probably a matter of the temperament and the inclination to withdraw into my own shell like a clam. And like a clam, I naturally do not want to be prised open, for the clam shells open to filter feed and close for protection and security.

Obviously, one is not channelling one’s apparently piscine attributes, it is not like I have taken to water like any of the inhabitants therein. Yet, it is an aspect of my personality that is mostly misunderstood and whilst I could be tempted to make excuses for the how and the why I choose not to communicate, I appreciate that people need to communicate and interact even reluctantly.

Just being human

I wonder if in my phlegmatic state if mind, I have become sclerotic or I am just putting too much thought into this when I should just make allowances within the tolerances of the elements of endurance, I have the capacity for. I sigh in the quest for all the mental energy to contain my circumstances, of commission, of omission, of admission, or immersion in the things I control and those I cannot.

Then, I am not a complex or complicated being, more misunderstood and unknown, to whom aspects of predictability have been ascribed by reason of expectations that are not essentially true. It is not a case of enigmatic, it is one of being human, with all the accoutrements of vulnerability, unreasonableness, irascibility, and occasional sensibleness. This is a work in process with too many imperfections finding a means of expression.

Thought Picnic: Being humanly human in my humanness

Many little things

Even as stoic as one might appear to be, appearances can quite easily be deceptive; mental capacity can so soon be depleted by the confluence of situations and events that are outside one’s control, yet impactful because of one’s attachment or affinity to those things.

It is a situation one cannot put into words to explain to any coherence, the what, the who, the when or the how, it’s like a faucet dripping, nothing of note as it drips, but significant it is collects and makes a sound for each drip. If dripping into a container, it soon fills up and you can be driven to distraction just hearing that interminable dripping.

Let it drain away

It is a kind of fluster that sleep will not cure and that is if you can find that kind of restful sleep that can make you relax and awake with a sense and feeling of strength and readiness for the day. From experience, you just give it time to dissipate, treat it like a form of intoxication that eventually wears off for the return of your sobriety. Then I am too much of a control freak that intoxication is not a lived experience.

A type of frustration seems to loom making you quite irritable and showing up in a lot that you do, decisions that come to the fore that with hindsight will have you nodding to yourself that you have allowed yourself through circumstance to be a fool. You just cannot deceive yourself even if you choose to ignore the obvious.

Every bit human

Vulnerability and naivety are dangerous condiments in a time of apparent mental weakness. You know you are in it and hope it is over before it becomes a harbinger of rue. Obviously, this is where companionship matters, we are far apart and planning on a rendezvous soon as we have not been together since mid-January.

I appreciate his helplessness because he wants to do so much that cannot be bridged by our separation, his soothing and wise words are a great comfort, a tower of strength he is and so quickly notices when I am not particularly there and now, he understands to give me the space to sort my head out. If we were together, the human touch, the hug, that feeling of time collapsed, love expressed, and tenderness experienced would have made all the difference.

It would get better, I can do this much as I acknowledge, I am only being human, my strength will return, and the wonder of hope will refresh me for what is ahead. All towards the healing of being with and the comfort of seeing Brian, keeps me going.

Thought Picnic: Episodes of mental health review

Our fragility in strange cases

It would appear it is open season for mental health, everyone is talking about it, and even if in my writings I have not particularly framed it in terms of extricating myself in the heat of circumstance, certain allusions have been made towards how things have been handled in adversity, in difficulty, in loneliness, or in general.

Within the body of stoicism is a lot of vulnerability and fragility, people mistakenly assume some people are made of sterner stuff to all appearances and forget that no one is essentially superhuman and inviolable, coping mechanisms are just that, the extent to which under pressure there is just that little more that comes to bear is what prevents cracking.

Too much on the grill

The last week has been heavy with absorption and management, a pilgrimage in planning and the drama of technology creating upset that one just excused oneself from interactive to consideration that life was just normal, though not being recorded. That is the stuff of watching FlightRadar24 through the night and what you are following appearing to do what is not really happening.

A bereavement at the passing of a grand old dame far away set in motion a whole series of concerns along with understanding that navigating the theoretical Kubler-Ross 5 Stages of Grief is a world away from handling the reality of loss, grief, sorrow, arrangements, through the tussle of finality in physical with the continuity in the mental and metaphysical. The best you can do is offer support and comfort; each person has to work their situation through.

In life and in hope

A friend and another find themselves at the end of a diagnosis somewhat inconclusive but hopefully with a path towards management and recovery. My experience does not inform me any better about how to face tough decisions, I am probably just some evidence that you can get to tell a better story, and whatever you are told, you can centre yourself within the situation to ensure you get the best outcomes. It is always your body first before it is their Guinea pig, no matter how good or sure they are.

Sometimes, I get invited to convey a premise with the deft use of language in order to acquire an intended resolution. I am usually up to that challenge, but I rarely subscribe to an exercise in futility. When it is coming up against the dead hand of bureaucracies run by badly automated algorithms that have not consideration of humanity and pressure of sanction is piled on regardless. I prefer to settle at the earliest opportunity and move on. It is a greater relief for all concerned than the prolongation of uncertainty and anxiety.

The week might just end in a flourish, the discrepancy noticed at beginning of the month has been resolved. I probably would not get an apology, but there is a ticking up in the register and that would do me fine. What I need is a place of quiet, quietness, and quietude for the spirit, soul, and body to put things in perspective and a sense of calm.

Thought Picnic: Perspective governs prospect

Full steam ahead

You want to have a sense that the trials and tribulations of these times are not so much a rite of passage even though life is littered with many that test resolve and resolution. In all, you consider that all these things will pass and the dreams you have will also come to pass.

Yet, it has a toll on your mental health and wellbeing, each day, an uphill struggle to maintain calm and latch on to the hope of a future both near and far. It is even more difficult for us who’s partners and loved ones are far away, the restrictions on movement and limitations on travel placing hurdles in our way.

We cannot despair, we need to continue to encourage each other, take each day as it comes, and keep safe for the joy of the not too distant reunions. We cannot think of the time as plans you might put in place now might be upended in a week.

No silly gimmicks

It is like the high-risk country list produced by South Africa at the beginning of the month that required spending at least 10 days in a low-risk country before visiting South Africa for leisure activities. Germany was a low-risk country then and she has appeared on the list of high-risk countries released on Monday.

What we hope would eventually happen is rather than label all as suspicious from one country or a region, it has to come down to the individual. We are not all infected even if there is a high incidence of infections and there is a surge in numbers admitted to hospitals.

We’ll do good

Many of us have been doing the reasonable things, the safe social distancing, avoiding most of the social gatherings, not entertaining guests or strangers, keeping the hygienic codes, working from home, and living primarily in isolation. We have been in personal lockdown mode long before our governments knew the necessity for such. It is such a shame that we all seem to be punished for the unfortunate situations of others.

I think in the end, it will be common sense that prevails in combating this pandemic rather than rules, laws, impositions, fines, enforcements, inducements, or any other means of public coercion. In the UK, it is a given that the government of Boris Johnson is completely clueless, they are just acting for the sake of performance, there is neither aim nor goal that suggests they will ever gain control over the situation.

In my mind, I know it will come good, between Brian and I, we will sustain and support each other, being strong for one another until we can meet up. It’s been a while since January.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester - VII

To the centre of a few

Getting into a pair of gym shorts and a top that felt as if it had been painted on my skin that my nipples were prominent and the shorts verged on outraging public decency, I stepped into my highly cushioned trainers whilst still needing my cane and set out for a walk. No, there is no picture of this outing.

It was much cooler than Wednesday as I made it up to Market Street where the main shopping mall was closed to the public, but essential shops on the street were open to active crowd control. Somehow, I have noticed all chemists and pharmacies I have visited have run out of constipation suppositories. Not vital information, but for its relief and uses, the reason is to be determined.

Leaving the large Boots Chemist, I walked towards the Manchester Cathedral, all gates closed and then by the Manchester Arena remembering that today is the third anniversary of the terrorist bombing after an  Ariana Grande concert that left 22 people dead and many more injured. [Wikipedia – Manchester Arena Bombing]

Blog - Manchester: Our humanity is our strength

Blog - Opinion: He was British, what changed him?

From old sorrow to a new meadow

Then up towards the Co-operative Group head office building, sauntered by the upper side lane, crossing the road to Angel Meadow Park. A place of history that comes from the most deprived conurbation, to the largest cemetery in Manchester and now regenerated into a tranquil park for meditation almost devoid of the poverty, destitution and death that greeted its heyday. Built with money from the European Union.

All around the park is a beehive of construction activity, workers out in their PPE garb some sitting on park benches or on the grass for lunch. There is life in Manchester but far from the typical hustle and bustle or rat race of what is typically one of the largest cities in the United Kingdom.

My brisk walk through the park brought me to a distinctive location, a little garden given to the issues of mental health. These pandemic times apart from the obvious sequestration might present invisible mental strains on people who are forced to stay at home alone, without social interaction or human interfaces.

The help we need

The theme ‘Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining’ prospects to see beyond the gloom of the present, but it is not that easy to find the silver lining on the clouds that obscure our view of the sunshine and sunny things in life. With Anxiety leaving us uncertain, Stigma borne of affliction and shame, being Alone leaving you caught in the miasma of loneliness and isolation, you wonder what prospect remains for finding the will to continue for anything.

Angel Meadow Garden

Blog - Beyond the clouds

Maybe in somewhere there is the Support to help with our Wellbeing bringing Hope for the future, we do not know, but we press on. With that, I left Angel Meadow out to Rochdale Road where for those who need it, a Brazilian Booty Lift beckons with its attendant side effects and dangers, for Ancoats; a section of Manchester populated with old cotton mills converted to luxury apartments and pockmarked with new developments that look so out of character with their surroundings.

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A post shared by Akin Akintayo (@instaforakin) on May 22, 2020 at 6:26am PDT

The manmade waterways of my city

Over the Rochdale Canal to get to New Islington, passing by the Islington Wharf with narrowboats docked on the banks, down the Ashton Canal towpath towards Piccadilly Basin before passing the long driveway to Manchester Piccadilly Station on to Canal Street, down by Sackville Gardens and then home in just over 90 minutes of walking.

The city is different and changing, I have no idea what would become of our city when the restrictions are lifted. People are generally staying indoors; the social distancing rule is adhered to even on pavements or bridges. I do not think the people have much confidence in the rhetoric of our government with regards to safety and security, either out of the abundance of caution or fear, we are keeping ourselves as much as possible out of harm’s way.

Quarantined in my self-isolation

No fun in this

If I am to be honest, I am not enjoying the sequestration, quarantine, self-isolation, or social distancing rave of the moment as part of the scheme to limit the spread of the Coronavirus. Much as I am a confessed hermit, I still like social interaction with other people and more on the physical than the virtual.

This social interaction is the equivalent of the grooming observed in a band of gorillas, we are all social beings. At least, I have not developed the ability to commune with inanimate objects and by that derive the benefits I would otherwise gain from seeing fellow human beings.

Obviously, I have to calm myself down and relax, there is another week and a half left of this matter and it could be extended. I would hate to think of what effect it would have on those of us who live alone at home or are used to social events that were so suddenly snatched away.

Sacred cows of our society

In our society, we lose objectivity when anyone suggests a cause is for charity, we are unquestioning and quite generous to charitable causes. You only have to watch the money mountain grow at nightlong television events like Sport Relief in the spring and Children in Need in the autumn, we have been had in a cult and many exploit it.

One other cult is our beloved and revered NHS, founded in 1948, we would not have anyone touch our National Health Service, yet, it has been raped, pillaged, starved through the decades, shedding many of its social underpinnings for the profit motive, but it is being called upon to fight this Coronavirus epidemic hobbled, restrained, underfunded, under-resourced, under-equipped and radically politicised.

A disservice to the NHS

It is not enough to throw money at the problem, someone should be solving the problem of throwing the NHS personnel in the middle of a pandemic without Personal Protection Equipment (PPE) against a virulent and highly contagious pathogen. Much as we applaud the NHS, we cannot justify sending them on a suicide mission for that is not what they signed up for.

They are there to save life and it only behoves the authorities to provide tests, protection and tools for them to perform excellently without having to be kamikaze heroes. Medical personnel are dying, many are gravely ill, and others are in isolation away from the battlefront where they are needed, because of failings in the system.

Exploiting our NHS love

To heap insult upon injury, NHS staff are being threatened with disciplinary action if they voice the dangers in their working environment, that is just unconscionably evil and whoever suggested that action should be booted out of the NHS forthwith.

On the message to the public, it was easy to attach the need for us to stay at home to the cult of the NHS. We are to stay at home to save the NHS, yet, the NHS staff are not given adequate protection and support to save themselves from ever-present danger at work and being vectors that take it to their homes. The government has been utterly derelict in their duty. Lest we forget it was used to drag us into the madness of Brexit that has consumed this country for 4 years.

If only we could see

I remembered reading books by Lobsang Rampa in my late teens which covered paranormal and occultic themes. In one of his narrations, he was in a physics class where electromagnetism was being demonstrated with iron filings used to visually show electromagnetic waves. He told the class he could see electromagnetic waves and he apparently went through a test of his assertion with him being able to tell when the waves were present or not.

Won’t it be wonderful to have that kind sight to see where the Coronavirus is, in the air and on surfaces and by that be able to navigate the world without interacting with it except when found in enclosed places with others or when someone expels droplets by sneezing or coughing?

Back to my feeling at the beginning of the blog, this self-isolation is having the effect that I want to further isolate and extricate myself, I feel I am losing the mental capacity to call up people and engage, I am tired.

Nigeria: Suicides, bad journalism and mental health

Feeds to the fed-up

Since Google Reader died I have used Feedly as my RSS aggregator which allows me to catch-up with blogs, news stories and events.

I take feeds from six Nigerian newspapers, and I might add a few more as I get used to their material and their reporting slant.

However, this afternoon I was left befuddled as I vacillated between utter disgust and incandescent rage.

Rotten journalism

PM News Nigeria published a piece about suicides being on the rise, and that is already a big problem if our youth are now resorting to taking their lives for whatever reasons around situation, circumstance or state of mind.

Journalism in Nigeria just hit a new low, well beneath the unprofessionalism of yellow journalism, absent proofreading or poor copy.

The news story PM News Nigeria published did not warn of the graphic images they attached to their report; one picture showed a boy on a slab, and as if that was not bad enough, there was another of the boy hanging from a noose. [I will not perpetrate this evil by providing a link to the story.]

This level of insensitivity that subscribes to the macabre and savage depiction is contemptuous, we must repudiate this in the strongest terms; it is odium in the extreme.

Mental illness and suicides

We could relate suicides to mental health or emotional issues, and we do not seem to understand that well in our culture; hence, we are unable to find ways to ameliorate the issue before it comes intractable.

Societal and cultural pressures elevating anxiety or creating depression all bottled up leaves a pressure cooker situation that presents suicide as the only pressure valve outlet.

These issues considering our obtuse religiosity are not just spiritual to be tackled with prayer and holy water. The public needs to be aware of psychological and psychiatric care for everyday problems.

The stigma associated with handling mental health issues looms large, we assume only ‘mad’ people or lunatics see psychiatrists. Education, information and enlightenment is necessary.

Therapy is key

I am of the opinion that we all need therapy at some stage of our lives, we must not confuse therapy with counselling, and qualified professionals should handle these issues.

The other issue with these suicides is whether these are really suicides or murders rigged up as suicides.

The question is whether we have the detection, medical examination or forensic expertise to determine the differences and the wherewithal to pursue these cases to the logical and just conclusion.

Could this be murder?

We cannot just assume suicides are the end of the story, there should be thorough investigations of the circumstances to ascertain the whys and determine the possible local suicide risks that might exhibit the vulnerabilities that presage these tragic events.

I hope PM News Nigeria and other journaling organisations or people will recognise that pandering to the basest instincts of feeding the public with the macabre is irresponsible at best, words fail me in describing the extreme that this represents.

May the souls of the unfortunately departed rest in peace and may their survivors find strength and fortitude to bear their losses.