I was at University in my second year, had come off my injection three months ago and was feeling down, so I decided to take up Robin's offer of a joint. Robin and his housemates spent their time at University dealing drugs, taking drugs, and watching Prisoner cell block H. At first I felt even worse, becoming intimidated by a bearded biker and feeling I had to apologise to him for being so upper class. Then the insights into my continental Philosophy course started and I was high, totally absorbed in them. For the first time I understood Nietzsche completely - what he really needed was a girlfriend! He was trying to love Mother earth alone and allow that love to define him. The next day I felt great and I was to return to Robin's house three more times in the following weeks. However all was not well and although I was not aware of it at first I was becoming 'ill'.
I experienced joy in the mornings when everything was bright, but the evenings were times of darkness and painful depression. I began to feel dishevelled whilst walking round campus, and I caught the flu. One night I was watching Dad's army when one of the characters referred to me as 'lurking in the shadows'. The next day I went to see the Doctor who gave me some chlorpromazine, which helped a little. I decided to take a break from University and go back to London for the weekend, it was dark and I was late, so I had to run and I felt anxious. This was when I really started cracking up. It's hard to describe the dread and anguish I felt. I saw two girls who appeared very self-satisfied and one of them said in a mocking voice "he's so lonely!". I got home but couldn't sleep all weekend. I felt rejected. My mother was obviously getting ill as well, and my father and brother were ignoring us, or that's how it seemed. I had an emotional pain in my chest which led to some very peculiar sensations. I knew I was getting ill but didn't know what to do about it. On Sunday night I told my parents that I didn't want to go back to University that week - I just couldn't face the journey. They were insistent and in my confused state I could see no way out so I went upstairs to my bedroom and slit my wrists. As has happened both times I have done this I felt a sobering of the head and a change of heart - I think the shock tends to bring you to your senses. I went downstairs where my mother started crying and called an ambulance. The ambulance took me to hospital where I finally got to sleep.
The Sister in the ward took a liking to me, and arranged for me to have a room of my own. I would sweat but not feel hot, laugh but not feel happy, and talk but not communicate. I remember trying to talk to the Sister in the office and not being able to speak, instead feeling a corrosive burning feeling rise up inside the back of my head. It was not all bad however. My appreciation of art was opened up, and I started drawing and painting. I was in ecstasy dancing in the hospital gardens and gazing at the flowers, while listening to "Hello I love you" by the Doors on my walkman. I would occasionally feel fits of rage and at other times feel sublimely peaceful. When I had first arrived it had seemed as though everybody was telling me off by the sound of their voice, but the people were mostly friendly, and I began to come out of the most painful aspects of my breakdown. I remember there was one man who would laugh at himself in the mirror, and sitting down next to him I felt a kind of resonance, as though some mysterious energy was holding us in orbit around each other. My enduring memory is listening to "She moves in mysterious ways" by U2 in the garden attached to the ward, with the other patients, in the summer sunshine.
