Sane Saturday

After having finally rested for a good 8 hours, I woke up. That's the first time in a week that has happened and whether the medication is already having an effect or I was just tired, it was a welcome shift. I went downstairs to talk to mum and had some cups of tea. We watched some programmes about people emigrating to Australia and I tried to practice some radical acceptance about my situation.

Do I like the fact one day I will die? No.

Can I accept it? Yes.

Part of me started to embrace my own temporality. Think about it... When our time comes, I'm sure we all accept it peacefully and whatever sensations we go through in the last moments, they are meant to peacefully transition us into the next state of being. We can't ever know that till it happens, and I'm sure it will not be unpleasant.

However, staring into your own existential crisis, it seems all the hopes and dreams one has are only relevant in the context of a human society – one which is entirely constructed and mediated. So all the things we do right now only have a certain level of relevance and resonance. When we start thinking of our actual impact, one goes full circle right back to here and now. What do I do in this moment that's important to me?

Dad returned around 11am with a bacon roll and my sister Louise dropped off my niece Florence. She asked why I came home – again I decided to be completely honest. It is quite freeing not to have to pretend to be well or hide the fact that you're not okay. Florence helped a little, as she is such a sweet and sassy little character – a real madam at times!

Dad took me out to buy a tuxedo for the ladies night and it felt as though the meds were starting to do some work. I also bought a blue skinny-fit suit for £79 and charged it to my credit card... If I am 'derealising' from money and these archaic systems, I might as well use it to my advantage.

With the meds kicking in, Dad thought buying the suit had made me happier, when in fact I knew different. I sat and talked with mum and Louise before Louise suggested going to Starbucks. We drove in the car and laughed at the car's 'D-Mode', not knowing what it was. I had a skinny hazelnut latte and a chocolate and raspberry cake, which Florence ate all of the cream out of before I could get back to my seat.

"So what has triggered the attacks," my sister said.

"Death, dying... The universe, everything."

"Ah... and the balance is restored," she said, referring to a time a couple of weeks ago when our roles had switched and I said I was being the carefree one and her the worrier.

Louise said that everyone will die and my mind is creating problems it can't solve because there is nothing to worry about. She also said I need to be around people – possibly family. Perhaps she is right. She also said I need to go back to what is important to me – creativity, performance... Drag perhaps. We laughed and talked about how she might be able to help me with my make up, or how she might prepare me for Drag Idol and Pride's Got Talent next year.

On returning home, I decided that in some respects this process is quite freeing. I'm off the celestial hook. There is no 'right' or 'wrong' way to live one's life and therefore worries about living up to one's full potential or doing well for oneself are only read in relation to its relevance of society at the time. In 100 years, this idea of success will change and change again, and so it is okay to slack off, to play video games, to do whatever... Balanced with that is the thought that whether contributing to a productive society is equally useful or meaningful to the individual. My over-riding thought is one should only do things if they are useful to you at the time or if they are useful to the human society of the time. To think of your actions extending any further than that is a pointless task.



Dad started getting ready and I realised it was 4pm, and Louise also started doing mum's make up for the do. I wondered around restlessly as I knew it wouldn't take me long to get dressed, before putting on my tuxedo. Mum, of course, faffed around to the last minute, but we finally got a cab to the Masonic Hall at 5pm.

I thought I would be weird at the event but actually I was okay. I expressed myself a bit more confidently and told people I was a lecturer and had a doctorate, and for once I didn't really feel ashamed of what I did. We met Allan McColgan, an old friend of mum's, a man called Gideon and Dad's brother – Uncle Allen – was there too. It was good to catch up with him as he is the 'gossiper' of dad's side of the family and is always very talkative.

The whole event seemed very surreal, though. There is this whole entrance ceremony where everybody is announced (I was announced as Dr. Arthur Taylor – that didn't go away during the evening), and it felt so slow and unreal. Time has slowed down lately. Perhaps it is quite right that the brakes have suddenly been hit in my life so I can contemplate all these moments. In this time period, life seems so long and so these thoughts of death should be so far away.

I did drink - and perhaps more than I should on medication - but it's hard to explain to dad what the case is. The dinner, equally surreal with its speeches and songs, consisted of broccoli and stilton soup, hunter's chicken and chocolate profiteroles. The song 'Happy to meet, Sorry to Part, Happy to Meet Again' keeps ringing through my head as the key piece of the evening.

We emptied out into the bar briefly where Dad and I bought the photo we had taken on entering the hall and then we returned to the hall to dance.

Oh how I love to dance. Mum and I got up and danced to Baby Love by the Supremes, Boogey Wonderland, You Can't Hurry Love, Come on Eileen... It was wonderful – one of my favourite things to do.

I asked if we could go at 10.45pm. Dad did originally propose going at 9pm so I think he was happy we stayed a little bit longer. When they came in, they changed into their pyjamas and made me a cup of tea. I retired to bed, though, around 11.30pm and was sort of glad I went out after all...