Break From Reality. Daily.
“There you go, Jimmy,” said his mother, easing his wheelchair in front of the picture window. Since crashing his motorcycle left him paraplegic, this was Jimmy’s domain—sitting at the window, passively watching life carry on—without him. Walking in the hills, fishing in the lochen, helping with the lambing and chatting…
I’ve heard voices for as long as I can remember. To start with, they just told me what to do. Let’s change your nappy, Susie. Time for beddy-byes. They seemed kind, so I went along with them. As I got older, the voices took on a sterner tone. Don’t touch the fire.
At school, the pattern continued. No running in the corridor. Detention for you, young lady. As a teenager, I had a social life, but voices tried to control that too. You’re not going out looking like that, are you? Make sure you’re home by ten-thirty.
At Edinburgh University, no voices told me where to go or when or with whom. I was expected to attend lectures and tutorials. Don’t forget to hand in your assignment, Miss James. Luckily, there weren’t too many assignments.
