Atmosphere.

 

When I was 16 or 17, I had my first psychotic episode. I cut my arms up, went to a friends house and told him and his mum. His mum called my folks, who came and got me. All I remember is my dad telling me I was very selfish. 


Fast forward a few years and I was at home by myself looking after the babies. They were asleep and the missus was at yoga or something. I was listening to this Joy Division track and something snapped in my head. I cut myself up and tried to hang myself, but the missus came home and saved me. 


I went to work the next day, as if nothing had happened, my arms covered by a work shirt. I sometimes wonder how things would’ve panned out if I’d gone to the hospital that night, got the help I needed then instead of waiting until everything fell apart. 


The past is another country, they do things differently there. But when I think about everything I’ve lost, I think about how, maybe, I could’ve done things differently. I realised I was not cut out to be a family man. It just wasn’t in me, but I think maybe, just maybe, I have better relationships with my kids because of what happened. 

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