Sometimes people say to me that perhaps I need professional help, You know counselling, talking to someone, and then I’ll be cured.
I’ve seen 5 different psyche people over the years, more recently a professor in Harley Street for 4 months. And guess what he said? That I was crazy? That I needed loads of help? Nope. Every consultation he’d listen in amazement at what I’d done since I last saw him. Even getting to his appointments meant solo 10 mile trips across london through the traffic in a wheelchair. Psychiatrists are used to people who have difficulty doing things, who don’t want to leave the house because they imagine they can’t because a plane might fall on their heads, or they may see a magpie. He’d listen to me and about my forays and be amazed. He said I should be proud of myself, and then we’d talk about teenage girls and he’d tell me that everything was going to be ok in time.
But the thing is that ‘ being proud of yourself’ isn’t enough to make everything ok. Oh you’re such an inspiration! Etc etc. All wheelchair’ists get that one. It makes the people saying it feel better. Those people don’t actually feel inspired for more than about 10 seconds in actual fact, but they still say it. But for the poor bugger in the wheelchair nothing has changed. He doesn’t feel any better for the bullshit flattery. He’s still got MS or paralysis.
That guy who paints with his mouth and can’t move anything else. You think being told he’s brilliant and an inspiration makes everything ok for him? Do you think he wouldn’t swap his oral talent for the ability to walk a few steps? There are probably plenty who think he must be really happy. Is he fuck. He’s broken inside but is making the best of a shit situation. And that is all.