Canon's Diary

Action without thought is empty; thought without action is blind – Goethe

While living with schizophrenia, I move between Tokyo and Osaka. Through this journal, I hope to quietly share moments from my daily life—and memories from the journey I’ve taken with my illness.

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Recording my Daily Life as a Diary

  • Bridging the Distance, Little by Little, Through Passing Days

    Saturday, June 21. I arrived at my parents’ house in Tokyo around 10 p.m. last night. My mother was still awake and greeted me with a loud “Welcome home!” I replied softly with just a quiet “Yeah.”
    When I entered the room, my father’s guitar and the electric fan welcomed me. There were signs the futon had been aired out, and the air conditioner was on. My wife was already asleep, and I was sure she had taken care of all that.

    I was tired and fell asleep almost immediately.
    In the morning, I brushed my teeth, had some toast and coffee, and took a hot bath to wash away the fatigue.

    I had planned to pick up my medication from the mental health clinic today, but only realized it was a holiday this morning.
    Well, I still have enough medicine to last another week, so it’s not a big deal.
    The sky is clear outside, and I’ve returned to this town of steel towers and sloping hills.

    I began preparing documents related to inheritance and name changes. I already knew how many copies I needed, but there were new forms like the inheritance division agreement that required more work than expected.
    When something like the property registration number or the official family registry address wasn’t clear, it became a bottleneck, halting progress.
    My younger sister had also come to Naruse, and we worked together to move things along.

    Before we knew it, it was lunchtime, so I made soba noodles. There was some pork and cabbage left in the fridge, so I made our usual soba with them. I topped it off with white leek I had brought back from Osaka.

    My wife had mentioned she was going for a medical checkup today. Apparently, she was having both an upper and lower endoscopy.
    She seemed a bit unwell. I suspect the stress of taking care of my mother while I was away may have taken a toll on her.
    She responded cheerfully whenever I spoke to her, but I still felt a little concerned.
    My sister and I worked together to complete as much as we could and then took a break.
    She had another engagement in the evening, so she left a bit hurriedly around 3 p.m.
    I went back upstairs, leaned against the wall on the bed, stretched my legs out, and relaxed.

    I took a deep breath.
    The sound of cool air blowing from the air conditioner filled the room.
    With my earphones in, I listened to Aoi Teshima’s song “Tsuki no Nukumori” (The Warmth of the Moon). I closed my eyes and focused on the music. It’s a calming, beautiful song.
    Back when Canon, our beloved dog, was still with us, the four of us would often go to the park together or dine out as a family.
    Those were peaceful days.
    But my wife often voiced her frustrations about my mother to me.
    After Canon passed away, her sorrow found an outlet in increasingly harsh words about my mother.
    It even led to arguments between my wife and me.
    Amid all that, my father was diagnosed with cancer.

    My mother, deeply concerned, devoted herself to caring for him.
    Maybe it’s because I saw that side of her, that now—after my father’s passing—my wife has been trying to maintain a healthy distance while also making sure my mother doesn’t feel too lonely.
    Since my wife has her own room upstairs, I believe it’s easier for her to process her feelings that way.

    My mother had always depended on my father for everything.
    So I was deeply worried about how she would cope after he was gone.
    But contrary to my concerns, she hasn’t seemed to dwell on her grief for long.
    She keeps herself busy—gardening, taking care of the medaka fish, cleaning, doing laundry, and cooking.
    Apparently, she also watches TV and streaming videos on her smartphone.
    My sister and I try to message her frequently on LINE.

    Now that my life in Osaka has begun, I’ve often found myself overwhelmed by the new environment and responsibilities.
    I feel a certain distance growing between us as a family.

    I believe that distance began in February of last year, when Canon passed away.
    With her gone, my wife and I started to drift apart.
    Then my father began his treatment, and over the course of his illness and eventual passing, I now clearly recognize that each of us went through emotional changes in our own way.
    Death spares no one.
    Though my father is no longer with us, we are all doing our best to accept the changes and adjust to this new life.

    Bringing it back to the present, I joined a tennis lesson tonight at 7 p.m.
    The surface of the court here is different from the one in Osaka, so I struggled a bit to adjust, but I could still feel that all the training over there wasn’t wasted.
    I still have plenty of lesson tickets left, so I plan to practice intensively over the next week.
    It was nice to reconnect with the coaches after a while, and we chatted happily about my new life.

    Tonight’s dinner was made using whatever was left in the fridge—frozen beef bowl topped with green onion and egg, with a side of lettuce and cherry tomatoes.
    The three of us ended up eating separately this time, but I’m thinking of making something for everyone tomorrow.

  • Negi, Rackets, and Station Bentos

    Friday, June 20th. It’s hot.
    When I woke up, the room felt stuffy. I immediately turned on the air conditioner, switched on the fan, and drank some sparkling water from the fridge.
    For breakfast, I had fried rice, topped with some leftover green onions. I brought in the laundry I had hung on the balcony yesterday.

    After work today, I’m heading back to Tokyo. I plan to stay there until next Sunday, June 29th. My schedule in Tokyo is fairly packed.
    On Saturday the 21st, I have a morning appointment at the psychiatric clinic to get my usual prescription.
    On the 22nd, I’ve scheduled a haircut. I hadn’t felt like trying a different salon in Osaka, so I’d just let my hair grow a bit too long.
    Over the weekend, I also need to do a final check of the documents required for inheritance procedures.
    From Monday the 23rd to Wednesday the 25th, contractors will come to make some repairs on the house, so I plan to work from home while overseeing the work.
    On the 26th and 27th, I’ll be going to the municipal office for procedures related to the inheritance from my father to my mother, and to convert her pension into a survivor’s pension.

    But that’s not all.
    Since I’ve been in Osaka for a while, quite a few lesson tickets have piled up for my tennis school in Machida. I’d like to use them as much as possible on weekends and in the evenings during the week.

    This afternoon, I had a handover meeting with the design department for a new project.
    So, in the morning, I was busy preparing and compiling the technical documentation.
    I carefully reviewed the customer specifications, the technical documents from the estimation phase, and the Devicla (device classification).
    I wanted to minimize any uncertainties before the meeting as much as possible.
    I feel like I’ve gotten a bit more used to this process.
    More than anything, having colleagues nearby doing the same work is really helpful—you can ask quick questions without hesitation.
    Perhaps my transfer to Osaka was the right decision after all, at least from the company’s perspective.
    It wouldn’t have gone this smoothly if I had stayed at the Tokyo office.

    For lunch, I enjoyed Thai-style beef curry with rice.
    In the afternoon, I held the handover meeting with the technical department.
    Our Project Management Section is still newly established, and we’re in the middle of refining our workflows through trial and error.
    Exchanging opinions with other departments is crucial.
    They have their own constraints and needs, and I try not to dismiss those outright.
    Instead, I aim to build mutual understanding, accept what should be accepted, and keep adjusting the process as we go.
    The key lies in building a relationship of mutual respect across departments.

    There are still some outstanding issues, but we successfully concluded the meeting with the design team.
    When the workday ended, I headed home to begin my trip to Tokyo.
    Back at the apartment, I took my racket out of my tennis bag, pulled the green onions from the fridge, wrapped them up, and put them in my bag.
    At Kyoto Station, I bought a bento and boarded the Nozomi 256, departing at 19:16.
    Today’s pick was a grilled meat and hamburger bento.

    I was tempted to add the green onions I had in my bag, but I held back and enjoyed it with a glass of red wine.
    I plan to use the onions tomorrow in some soba for lunch.
    It’s been about a month since I last took the Shinkansen.
    Eating a bento in a reserved seat on the train is one of my small pleasures,
    but since I’ve gotten into the habit of cooking for myself lately, I feel just a little guilty when I buy a station bento now.

  • Ramen and the Bunker Buster

    This Friday, after work, I’m heading back to Tokyo.
    Since I plan to stay for a week, I wanted to use up the food in my fridge,
    so I had ramen last night. I topped it with corn, green onions, and a soft-boiled egg.
    There were also some frozen dumplings, so I pan-fried them.
    Still, having such a hearty meal at night left me feeling a bit too full.
    This morning, my stomach felt a little heavy.


    It’s Thursday, June 19. I had breakfast while watching the morning news. There was a report that Iran is ready to talk with the United States.
    The U.S. recently hinted at the possibility of attacking Iran.
    There was also a mention of the “bunker buster,” a bomb capable of penetrating underground nuclear facilities in Iran.
    It’s a negotiation through force, showing just how tense the situation has become.
    There’s also information suggesting Iran is in the final stages of developing nuclear weapons.
    I believe Trump leaving the G7 early was the right call.
    In any case, the state of the world is becoming increasingly fragile.
    At this point, nothing would surprise me anymore.

    I finished off the cabbage soup I had prepared earlier.
    There was a bit of rice left, so I made ochazuke with it.
    The weather is clear today. In Osaka, it’s expected to reach a high of 34°C.
    It’s also recycling collection day, so I took out the PET bottles and empty cans.
    Wearing my white Nike cap that I use for tennis, I headed to work.
    Even just shielding my head from the sun made the heat much more bearable.

    No matter how tense the world becomes, I still have to finish the work in front of me.
    This time, I had to prepare around 15 different technical documents.
    I created the materials while carefully checking the client specifications.
    I also kept an eye on the junior sales rep, who still lacks experience,
    and worked through the tasks with extra care.
    Unclear points will be clarified in tomorrow’s meeting with the design team.

    As the only nation to have suffered nuclear attacks,
    I strongly believe that such tragedy must never be repeated.
    Nearly 80 years have passed since the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
    The survivors are aging, and the number of people who can carry on their stories is gradually decreasing.
    I hope the Japanese government will take the lead in the global effort to eliminate nuclear weapons.

    Tonight’s dinner was a rice ball and a salad from the convenience store.
    It’s the kind of meal I often had in business hotels when I used to come to Osaka on business trips.
    The only thing left in the fridge was a green onion,
    so I chopped it up and added it to the salad.
    The rest of the green onion I wrapped in plastic, planning to take it back to Tokyo
    and use it for lunch there.
    That’s all from me for today—if you’ll excuse me.

  • Sparkling Water and the Realism of a 79-Year-Old

    Tuesday, June 17. Thanks to the overcast sky, the temperature feels lower than yesterday.
    Even so, I woke up feeling extremely thirsty and chugged a bottle of sparkling water straight from the fridge.
    I warmed up the cabbage soup I made yesterday and had it with a bowl of rice topped with raw egg.
    When I turned on the TV, the news was covering the G7 summit currently being held in Canada.
    Trump’s face filled the screen. Once again, he’s the center of attention.
    Honestly, I’m getting tired of seeing that face—it’s overwhelming how aggressive the man is.

    It was reported that he had his first face-to-face meeting with Prime Minister Ishiba, where they discussed trade issues.
    Apparently, Japan pushed for a review of tariff measures, but no final agreement was reached.
    Trump seems to be trying to reshape the global structure itself.
    I hope Japan can somehow benefit during this time of upheaval, but as a small country without natural resources,
    do we really have enough cards to play in negotiations?

    The aging population and declining birthrate are pressing issues as well.
    Japan’s once world-renowned manufacturing prowess, the backbone of its high-growth era, has undeniably lost some of its shine.
    Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that the era of “make something good and it will definitely sell” is simply over.
    Information processing, environmental issues, politics—
    it all feels even more tangled and complex than it used to be.

    Japan supposedly has rare earth minerals in its nearby waters,
    yet concerns about environmental impact and tensions with China have kept commercial development from progressing.
    Both natural resources and national strength—
    we have to be cautious in how we use them.
    Sometimes, I can’t help but envy Trump’s boldness.

    I took out the burnable trash to the collection point and headed to work.
    It was cooler than yesterday, but the humidity was quite high.
    It wasn’t raining heavily enough to require an umbrella,
    but a light drizzle occasionally left droplets on my cheeks.
    The morning at work was calm—I spent the time reviewing technical documents and preparing for meetings.

    Then, an article from the Nikkei Digital caught my eye:
    Trump, who had been attending the G7 in Canada, was reportedly returning to Washington ahead of schedule to deal with escalating tensions in the Middle East.
    Tough guy. And he’s 79.
    I wonder if I’ll be that active when I’m 79.
    Handling multiple public duties at once, leading those around him—
    even though I doubt I’d get along with him at all if we met,
    there’s something strangely impressive about the man.

    After finishing work, I headed home.
    I ran into a colleague with whom I recently shared dinner at an oyster restaurant and had a brief chat.
    I stopped by the supermarket to buy some milk.
    Since I’m planning to return to Tokyo on Friday the 20th,
    I need to use up what’s in the fridge.
    There was still a lot of cabbage left,
    so I made a creamy pasta with cabbage, pork, and onions.
    The garlic flavor came through nicely—
    it was delicious, though I was a bit heavy-handed with the pepper.

  • Waking to a Damp Morning in June

    Monday, June 16. I woke up at 6 a.m. Morning sunlight was pouring into the room through a gap in the curtains. I stepped out onto the balcony and looked outside. The sky was clear, but the ground was slightly wet—it must have rained a bit before dawn.

    I was glad I’d brought the laundry inside last night. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and made breakfast: fried rice and miso soup with white leeks. The detoxifying effect of leeks is something I could get addicted to. After doing the dishes, I had no time to turn on the TV and headed straight out to work.

    The sun was bright. The damp ground sent cool air upwards, but as I walked, my body temperature rose, and the blazing sun started to make my head feel hot. If it’s already like this in mid-June, I dread to think how harsh the real summer will be.

    When I arrived at the office, I sat down and took a sip of the sparkling water I’d brought with me. The air conditioning made it comfortable, though it gets chilly quickly, so I always keep a jacket nearby. I hadn’t brought coffee today, so I used the office coffee machine, which grinds the beans fresh. The aroma was better than I expected, and it gave me a moment of calm.

    Then a message came from my mother via Line. She said she was heading to the hospital, then to the bank to withdraw some living expenses. Since I was working, I just replied briefly: “Take care.” She’s already 85. I worry that the heat might be hard on her.

    After lunch, I climbed the stairs up to the sixth floor as I usually do. The heat made my breathing labored. About four years ago, I injured the inner meniscus of my left knee. At the time, I weighed around 76 kg, and after playing tennis, even walking was tough. I couldn’t bend my knee deeply. I tried strength training and injections, but what ultimately helped was losing weight—about 10 kg—which eased the pressure on my knee. Now I can walk without trouble and play tennis again. But I’ve been told that the inner part of the meniscus is called the “white zone,” where blood flow is extremely poor and natural healing is almost impossible. So I try to move as much as I can—climbing stairs, walking—to stimulate circulation. Gaining weight again is strictly off-limits. I guess my body is starting to show its age.

    My mother also has knee issues and gets regular injections at the orthopedic clinic. Her back is relatively straight, but her hearing has declined significantly, and she occasionally experiences dizziness. She’s said to have a mild case of Parkinson’s disease. But what worries me more is her naïve and impulsive nature. No, she doesn’t have dementia—but still, I feel uneasy leaving her alone.

    On my way home from work, I stopped by the supermarket to pick up some pork. I’m planning to prepare a batch of cabbage soup tonight. I eat heartily in the morning and at lunch, so I try to keep dinner light to maintain my current weight. I’ve got the recipe down pat: boil pork, chopped carrots, and cabbage in a pot, then season with soba sauce, bonito stock, and ginger. Just before eating, I add chopped white leeks and sesame oil. There was only one egg left in the fridge, so I saved it for breakfast tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll go with a small serving of ochazuke (rice with tea) to keep the calories in check. It’s easy on the stomach too, which is a plus.

    I’m planning to head back to Tokyo this Friday and work from home there next week. I’ve arranged to take time off on June 26 and 27 to go to city hall and take care of my father’s inheritance procedures. It’ll be my first time in a while to check in on the family home.

  • The Taste of the Everyday, and the Murmurs of the World

    Sunday, June 15.
    With the rainy season in full swing, I didn’t feel like going out yesterday, so I spent the day quietly at home. This morning, I got out of bed around 7 a.m. and took a shower. As I dried my hair and brushed my teeth, I stepped out onto the balcony to look outside. The sky was overcast again. The streets were still wet, but no one seemed to be using an umbrella. The surface of Kodera Pond was still, undisturbed even by raindrops. According to the forecast, it would be cloudy all day, with a 30% chance of rain in the morning and clearing skies later in the day.
    “Maybe I can go out today after all.”
    I had a simple breakfast—salmon chazuke with a touch of wasabi. The sharp sting up my nose jolted me fully awake.

    After watching the news for a while, I jotted down a shopping list. Let’s see—onions and minced meat. Oh right, I’m out of coffee. Maybe some sparkling water too. I still have some dried soba noodles, and there’s pork and cabbage in the fridge.
    Wait, I want some kakiage fritters too.
    I figured I’d need some energy for my afternoon tennis lesson.

    Around 10:30, I headed to the local supermarket. Being Sunday, there were quite a few shoppers. I picked up everything on my list. As I passed by the dessert section, I realized it had been about a month since I started living alone—and I hadn’t had anything sweet like cake or chocolate. Even my coffee had been made with sugar-free sweetener.
    That thought lingered… so I bought myself an éclair.

    Back home, I started preparing soba. While the noodles boiled on one burner, I filled a separate pot with water and brought it to a boil. I added pork and cabbage, then seasoned the broth with soba tsuyu and bonito dashi. Once the noodles were done, I placed them in a bowl, poured the hot broth over them, and topped it all with chopped white leeks, a raw egg, and the kakiage.


    The taste…
    Well, how should I put it? It felt like warmth was seeping all the way to my core. My fingertips tingled slightly with heat and relief. The white leeks, rich in allicin, are said to promote blood circulation and strengthen immunity. They’re also full of vitamin C and fiber, great for recovery. Combined with the protein from the pork and egg, and the digestive benefits of the cabbage, it turned into a deeply nourishing detox meal.
    I had the éclair for dessert.
    With my brain now properly fueled, I could feel that my afternoon tennis session was going to go well.

    Looking out the window, the sky had begun to brighten. Breaks in the clouds appeared here and there. The roads were drying. I could see ducks swimming gracefully in Kodera Pond. After cleaning the kitchen, I read a little before heading to my tennis lesson.
    I greeted my faithful companion, the VFR400R (NC30), at our usual bike parking spot. She’s over 30 years old now, but still runs strong.

    The indoor court had some air conditioning, but the humidity was high.
    Today’s theme was rushing the net after the return.
    It wasn’t an intense workout, but just a few reps of feeding balls left my T-shirt soaked in sweat.
    If it’s like this now, summer’s going to be brutal.
    Still, the carpet court doesn’t cause irregular bounces like an omni court does, so I could enjoy some full swings.

    After the lesson, I took a cold shower in the locker room and returned home.
    I cracked open a chilled can of sparkling wine from the fridge while watching the news. It was a low-alcohol wine, and absolutely delicious.
    On the screen, there were reports of protest demonstrations erupting across the U.S. in opposition to the government’s detainment of undocumented immigrants. Meanwhile, Mr. Trump was said to be attending a military parade commemorating the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Army—and celebrating his own birthday.
    America feels like an entirely different country now. The mood is strange, unsettling.
    Internal divisions, rising tensions between Iran and Israel, chaos in global markets due to U.S. tariffs, the ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine…
    I sighed at the endless flood of grim news.
    It hit me again that the peace I enjoy in my own life isn’t something to take for granted.
    And yet… I really don’t know what’s right anymore.

    I threw my sweat-soaked tennis clothes into the laundry and hung them out on the balcony. The forecast said it might rain in the morning, so I’d need to bring the laundry in before bed.
    One small mistake—I forgot to cook rice.
    I quickly filled the rice cooker and set it.
    “Guess I’ll take a bath before dinner.”
    I filled the tub and soaked to ease the fatigue from tennis.
    Then I began preparing keema curry.

    I started by sautéing finely chopped onions in a frying pan, then added minced meat. Once it was well-cooked, I poured in 70 ml of water and brought it to a boil before adding curry roux. On another burner, I fried an egg.
    “Almost ready… but the rice isn’t done yet.”
    I turned off the heat and poured myself a glass of discounted Spanish red wine. I turned on some classic jazz and relaxed for a bit until the rice was ready.
    I reheated the keema curry and fried egg, added some chopped white leek to a tomato soup, and enjoyed it all with the wine.
    “Hmm, maybe I overcooked the onions a bit.”
    I’d heard that chopping onions releases allicin, but cooking them transforms it into sulfide compounds, which have antioxidant and blood-cleansing effects.
    The red wine paired nicely with it all.

    After dinner, I sipped the wine, listened to jazz, and messaged my wife on LINE.
    It had been a good weekend.
    Even alone, my heart felt full.

  • An Afternoon of Rain and Nasi Goreng

    Thursday night’s tennis lesson had been quite intense, so I really struggled through work on Friday, worn out and weary. I somehow managed to get everything done and made it home, only to fall asleep almost instantly from exhaustion.

    Then came Saturday morning—the weekend, at last. I woke up around 7 a.m. It was June 14th. For the first time in a while, I felt like I had really slept well. There was no lingering fatigue like yesterday, and my mind felt clear. It was already raining when I woke up. I washed my face with cold water and had my usual breakfast.

    Back in April, I had my hair chemically straightened. It hadn’t grown quite to my shoulders yet, but it now reached far enough to cover the back of my neck. Whenever I washed my face, cooked, or ate, it would fall forward and get in the way. So lately, I’d started wearing my tennis cap even indoors. I’ve got a haircut appointment booked in Tokyo for next weekend. I do like my hair longer, but maybe it’s time to try something a bit shorter. I’ll talk it over with my stylist.

    Around 9 a.m., the rain briefly turned heavy. The sky outside was dull and dark. The demolition work on the house in front of the bus roundabout had apparently finished last week, and the lot was now completely cleared. Amid the low, steady sound of the rain, I could hear cars splashing through puddles. Without the usual construction noise, the chirping of birds, the sound of trains crossing, the clanging of a railroad crossing, and the buzz of a scooter engine all made their way to my ears. None of it was unpleasant. To me, it felt like a kind of background music—gentle and comforting.

    After sitting and relaxing in my chair for a while, I did a bit of cleaning and laundry, then headed out to the supermarket. I’ve gradually stocked up on seasonings, daily necessities, detergent, and shampoo, and I’ve more or less settled into a cooking routine—so my spending on groceries has gotten more manageable.

    I remembered I still had a packet of seasoning paste I’d bought at a supermarket during a business trip to Indonesia last year—something for making nasi goreng. So I picked up some tomatoes and frozen corn and decided I’d try cooking nasi goreng for lunch today. The rain was still coming down steadily, yet the shopping street was relatively crowded with people.

    Back home, I got started on the cooking. I stir-fried chopped carrots with some pork, then added frozen corn and shredded cabbage, letting them cook together for a while. After that, I added some freshly cooked rice and mixed in the nasi goreng paste. I stirred everything thoroughly, and it was done. I added a few cherry tomatoes on the side and made a bowl of matsutake mushroom soup to go with it.

    Oh—shoot. I forgot to crack an egg into it. Well, I had a proper breakfast, so the egg can have its moment next time.

    As for the taste… spicy. The one I had in Indonesia was definitely spicy too, but it had a milder, rounder flavor. This version was sharper—but in its own way, it had a unique kick, and I enjoyed the change. A lunch full of spice and punch.

    In the afternoon, I gazed out the window. The rain was still coming down steadily. According to the forecast, it was going to rain through the night. On this rainy afternoon, under the heavy skies of the rainy season, I thought—
    I’d like to just relax and take it easy like this, all the way into the evening.

  • The Conversation Beyond the Wall

    Wednesday, June 12.
    I woke up at 6:30 this morning. When I opened the curtains, I was greeted by clear skies for the first time in a while. My smartwatch told me I’d slept for a full eight hours, and I felt refreshed. I was careful not to drink too much at last night’s dinner gathering, so I woke up without any trace of a hangover. After brushing my teeth, I took a shower. With the weather warming up, I often find myself sweating even after getting out of the shower, so I’ve made it a habit to cool my body with cold water just before stepping out. For breakfast, I had fried rice and miso soup.

    I put on my shirt and headed to work. The morning air was still pleasantly cool, but I heard that next week even Kansai will see temperatures over 30°C—full-on summer. Seasons truly are shifting.

    Last night’s dinner gathering was enjoyable. We visited a brand-new Japanese-style izakaya called Nagomi, located just outside Settsu-Tonda Station. The interior was fresh and clean, with a calming color scheme based on dark brown, warm lighting typical of an izakaya, a seasoned-looking owner, and a staff that moved with efficiency and care. Highballs and lemon sours were a very reasonable 180 yen on weekdays.
    It was a small gathering of just the three members of our section, but we managed to talk about many things—our backgrounds, hobbies, past work struggles, and our hopes for the future of our newly established team. What made me especially happy was that none of us had to put on airs; we simply had relaxed, natural conversations.

    This, I’ve realized recently, is a small but meaningful change in myself. I no longer feel the need to keep my guard up around others. In the past, when I was overly conscious of my illness, I think I unintentionally built a wall between myself and the people around me, afraid of being seen as “different.” But now, I can feel that wall dissolving.

    This small shift might have a profound effect on my relationships going forward. I have that feeling—like something good is beginning.

    Tonight, I have a tennis lesson. I’ve been overeating a bit lately, so to help with dieting, I’ve decided to stick to just cabbage soup for dinner on weekdays.

  • Rain — A Morning When My Body Moves on Its Own

    Wednesday, June 11th. I wake up at 6 a.m. The sky is overcast, and everything feels dim. Looking down from the window, I see people with umbrellas—it must be raining. I wash my face with cold water and brush my teeth. For breakfast, I have salmon chazuke.

    I turn on the TV and watch the news. I brew some coffee and pour it into a thermos. It seems my morning routine has become quite automatic. Now, my body moves naturally, almost without thinking.

    I had planned to return to Tokyo around the middle of next week, but my work hasn’t wrapped up neatly, so it looks like it’ll be pushed back a little. I told my wife about it on Line last night. She replied, “Got it. Sounds like work is keeping you busy.” The truth is, I’m not particularly busy. I’m just having trouble coordinating meetings and business trips in a way that would allow me time to return to Tokyo. I suppose that’s just how it is.

    Originally, I was allowed to split my time between Tokyo and Osaka to support my father’s care. Now that he has passed, the company likely expects me to spend more time in Osaka. Even so, administrative matters remain—handling the inheritance from my father to my mother, and checking the revised family registry. I’ll have no choice but to go back at the end of the month. Fortunately, my supervisor has already approved it.

    I have no complaints about my workplace or my colleagues. The technical level is high, and we have a solid cooperative relationship.

    For lunch, I had tempura udon, which is unusual for me. According to ChatGPT, udon has fewer calories than soba. On the other hand, soba seems to have better nutritional balance. Tonight, we have a dinner gathering for our newly established department, the Project Management Section.

    Sorry, but I’ll leave it at that for today.

  • The Sound of the Rainy Season, Into My Heart

    Tuesday, June 10. I woke up around 5:30 a.m. When I opened the curtains, I saw that it was raining. It seems that the Kinki region officially entered the rainy season yesterday. In Kyushu, there has been heavy rain, and warnings have been issued for potential landslides.
    “Why do I keep waking up so early?”
    I washed my face and brushed my teeth. For breakfast, I had a bowl of rice with raw egg and a cup of tomato soup. When I turned on the TV, the news was still showing the clash between authorities and demonstrators over illegal immigration detentions in Los Angeles. President Trump apparently intends to deploy the Marine Corps.
    “He’s always so forceful.”
    Since I live in a condo, I keep the TV volume low. That means I sometimes miss parts of the broadcast, but I don’t mind too much. Turning on the TV in the morning has become part of my daily routine, though I only half-listen to what’s being said.

    I left home earlier than usual. It was a burnable garbage day, so I took out the trash bag and dropped it off at the collection point. Leaving just fifteen minutes earlier made the streets noticeably less crowded. The shopping arcade was quiet this morning. I could hear the sound of raindrops hitting my umbrella. Though it was raining, the temperature was relatively warm, and the air felt humid.

    At the office, I carried out tasks like distributing the technical documents I had prepared. While I was getting ready to contact a parts supplier about some specifications, my phone notified me of a news alert from Yahoo—apparently, the Kanto-Koshin and Hokuriku regions also entered the rainy season today.
    “So, it’s basically the whole country now.”
    The sky outside was overcast, and the office lit by fluorescent lights still felt a bit dim. During the lunch break, when the lights were turned off, the floor grew even darker, shifting into rest mode. After finishing lunch, I sat in the dim room and reflected a bit on the past.

    Before I encountered Adlerian psychology, I used to interpret everything through the lens of causality.
    “I ended up with a mental illness because my parents forced religion on me.”
    “I was scared of interacting with people because my uncle hit me and my drunk grandfather shouted at me when I was a kid.”
    “Prayer doesn’t help. It doesn’t solve anything.”
    I often said such things and caused my parents a lot of grief.
    But when I began to think in terms of teleology—the idea of purpose rather than cause—I realized that all those things stemmed from my own sense of helplessness. The suffocating emotions, the memories of crying alone in a dark room, came from a self-centered desire to blame something or someone. In essence, I wanted my parents’ attention by voicing these grievances. I thought, “There must be a reason why my heart hurts this much.”

    But now I believe the most accurate explanation is that schizophrenia is largely genetic, a predisposition I was simply born with. I’ve come to know that there are many second-generation religious individuals who have suffered emotionally because of it.
    Someone with a more severe disability than mine once gave me this advice:
    “Religion simply didn’t heal my illness, so I let it go. But I don’t hold any hostility toward religion itself. Mental illness and religion should be considered separately.”
    It meant a great deal to me to receive such wisdom from someone who has endured even harsher circumstances than my own.

    The afternoon passed by in a bit of a rush. Over the next two weeks, I’ll likely need to prepare another batch of documents. When the workday ended, I left the office and stopped by the store to buy pork, cabbage, and carrots. The supermarket near my office is much cheaper than the one near my home. It seems more efficient to do most of my shopping on the way back from work.

    Tonight’s dinner was cabbage soup, fried rice, and some frozen mini hamburg steaks. The cabbage soup this time was Japanese-style, seasoned with noodle broth and bonito stock. Adding grated ginger gave it a wonderfully tasty finish.
    That said, cooking for myself tends to lead to high-calorie meals. Maybe I’ll reserve real cooking for the weekends and keep weekday dinners simple—just some cabbage soup I’ve made in advance might be enough.