And Now I’m Back. And Now I’m Ready.

Despite small contextual peaks and recurrent lack of sleep — or fast recovery with small quantities of sleep —, I’m going down slowly towards equilibrium and normothymic state. My psychiatrist told me that, if things remain evolving this way, I should be able to exit the clinic during the first half of June.

This time, sport helps me a lot to lower my tachypsychia and prevent any delusional/manic–schizoïd ascent. Despite a significant consumption of cigarettes (between 5 and 10 per day), the last days have been amazing and surprising. I had not had this kind of feelings when running for years and years and maybe decades. After having checked in the park of the clinic that I could still easily run at almost 15 km per hour over one hour with the ability of going back for short interval training sessions in the afternoon, the day before yesterday and yesterday, despite the heat and extreme relative moisture rate in the air, I took flight outside the confines of the clinic (which is not allowed but… Fuck it), running in fields and woods and small villages over kilometers and kilometers, until more than 1 h 30 min of physical effort. My capacities of recovery seem quite exceptional. Today in the “morning”, juste before writing this article, I ran 40 min in the corridors of the clinic, barefoot. No pain at all. I will participate a half-marathon during summer and a marathon before the end of the year. I’m back. I’m ready.

Through these escapes, there is furthermore probably something special to highlight. I’m a bit tired of being here — more than 4 months since the end of December —, I’m a bit tired of being among this population; I don’t feel in my proper place. Nevertheless, I know I still need some time for treatment adjustment and thymic condition daily observation. I resist.

After my Farewell Letter To Fishbach, I haven’t being interacting at all with her social network profiles. She seems like belonging to the past now. I barely listen to her music from time to time.

The musician Vangelis, one of the great influences of my youth, has passed away.

My grandmother has passed away too. I don’t have any grandparent anymore.

I’m feeling high but full of a weird mix of sadness and rage for fate.

“Kings… Kings may come and then go
By these words you must know
That things come and then pass
Live your days like the last.”

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