Archive for March, 2010


Children laughing, dancing in a circle,
the merry game of life.
Intricate weaves, complex patterns,
step by step, year by year.

Rings and roses, pockets and posies,
say the words, on we go.
Mustn’t stop, team game, have to go on,
have to cope, can’t take time out.
Do what is expected.

Can’t do it,
can’t keep up,
can’t keep going.

Too much,
too fast,
too often,
too busy.

Can’t think straight anymore,
all molehills have become huge mountains
Gotta look like things are cool,
save face,

Can’t do it,
losing my grip,
can’t hold it together,
can’t hold me together.

Atishoo, atishoo,
we all fall down.
The game goes on without me,
can’t get up,
can’t fight anymore.

all alone,
so much pain.
So many different tunnels
but no light to be seen.
So dark.

Must be my fault,
everyone else is still dancing the dance,
saying the words.
Where did I go wrong?
Which bit of life did I miss?
Why can’t I cope?

So many regrets.
So many bad choices,
long-lasting consequences.
If only….
What if….

I hate me,
I hate my life,
I hate feeling like this,
I hate being a failure,
I hate feeling hopeless, useless.

The hurt inside me
won’t go away,
won’t stop,
cuts so deep.

But only I see all of this.
Around me the game goes on,
they treat me as normal.
Why can’t they hate me as much as I hate me?
That would feel better.

I have to bring the pain out
where I can see it,
at least for a while.
Feel control,
even for a moment.

I control the blade,
the blade draws blood,
lets out pain,
makes me feel real,
brings calm.

Slice after slice,
pulling the knife over my skin,
seeing the beads of red,
tears of blood,
pain is sweet.


Have to pretend to play the game,
say the words, on we go.
No-one notices that inside me is crumbling,
falling apart.
All they see is the façade,
the bluff,
so well practiced,
an art perfected.

Hide the blades,
cover the scars,
bury the emotions deep inside.
Wait until the next time,
it will come,
it will win,
it is too strong.

Can’t do it,
can’t keep up,
can’t keep going.

Too much,
too fast,
too often,
too busy.

Stop me from falling,
end the pain.


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I close my eyes, but still I see.
I cover my ears, but still I hear.
I empty my mind, but still it is full.

The noise inside is louder than outside,
     never stopping
           always there.

So gabbled, can’t make sense of it.
So loud, can’t hear it.
So tangled, can’t find the end of it.

It doesn’t matter where I go,
     how tranquil the setting,
           the solitude I seek.

I want to hide, but cannot run.
I want to shout, but have no voice.
I want to fight, but have no power.

The inner cacophony of so many voices,
     accusing, guilty, angry, sad,
           no joy, or peace, or calm.

I seek answers, but don’t know the questions.
I seek stillness, but can’t stop.
I seek help but have forgotten how to ask.

Deafened by the noise within,
     beaten into submission by myself,
           feeling so alone with me as my audience.

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I’m pacing & unsettled,
I can’t focus or concentrate,
I’ve tried a book, TV, food, the computer:
Nothing – no relaxation to be found.

I know I’m clock watching
But tonight the hands seem to move in slow motion,
Chopping the night into tiny segments
And each takes so long to pass.

I long for that sound:
The one that means new email,
But it doesn’t echo for me tonight,
Only false hope from irrelevant adverts.

My eyes are getting scratchy,
But I fight the tiredness.
I can’t go to sleep –
Can’t let go of today.

The house is so peaceful
Right now it could just be me alone
No one else to shatter the moment
To intrude on what is mine.

Yet again I look at the time,
Wishing that somehow I don’t need to sleep
Conceding defeat on that
Means admitting that tomorrow is another day.

NO!! Can’t do that, not again,
Can’t cope with another day
Housework shouting, kids screaming
That’s all bad enough.

But then there is the battle within,
For survival of the fittest.
Problem is I don’t know for sure
What parts of me are fit enough to last.

If I don’t go to sleep,
I don’t have to wake up.
Simple when you say it like that,
But if course I know it isn’t really that way.

Yet I still can’t give in easily,
Still have to fight sleep,
I long for the night
When I look forward to the day.

But that isn’t tonight
If I go to sleep now I don’t want to wake up.
I can’t do another day like today,
Can’t face it, not again.

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The Black Dog

Why is it that we con ourselves into believing that depression is something that only ever happens to other people?

It took me  a long time to accept that this isn’t true at all, but when I did, that realisation empowered me to deal with in various ways.  Writing was just one of those ways, so whilst some of my blog posts may seem dark and depressing, they were appropriate to the place that I was in at the time.  I like to go back and read the material I wrote because it highlights to me the difference between where I was and where I am now.

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The long awaited day,
time has clocked up for so many months –
anticipating, longing,
until the day itself is almost an anticlimax.

A bad situation, complicated further
by the best intentions of a dear friend,
finally being put to rest and banished
to the dark recesses of my mind.

The chains that I entangled myself with
are discarded and left to rust,
leaving me unfettered and free –
able to pursue… something, as yet unknown.

Now there is a void, an empty place inside me,
waiting, needing to be filled,
looking for something to replace
the turmoil that has obsessed me for so long.

I know how I ought to feel
but I don’t.
The emptiness looms, vast and silent,
attempting to envelope the positives.

My life is now an opportunity,
no longer the sum of many regrets.
The past has passed,
and is now firmly put in its place.

I must take that step –
he one that takes me through the door
To the rest of my life,
blank pages yet to be filled.

A daunting prospect, the big unknown.
The negative strains of the past,
whilst awful,
were familiar faces like old friends.

Now they are gone, and were never really friends at all.
I am alone in my mind.
I must find within me
the strength to move on.

I cannot remain in the front porch of tomorrow.
So much is at stake, depending on me,
but the fear of failure is menacing and I falter
when reaching for the handle.

My position is lonely.
The choices are mine to make and act on,
but the consequences reach further
which brings the burden of responsibility.

Suddenly freedom does not seem so liberating.
Life, in its typically complex manner
compels me to focus on a panoramic snapshot
of everything at once.

Now I’m scared
of such large potential changes.
I don’t trust myself to get it right
since I haven’t in the past.

This morning, to be unblemished
seemed like freedom in the making,
but instead I have discovered that
freedom is a relative state.

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How Do I Ask

Here is something I wrote about 3 years ago.

I’m trudging along on the path that I chose
And all those around me – not one of them knows
The loneliness, heartache and pain that I feel
From living a life that isn’t quite real.

So deep down inside that I cannot recall,
Are feelings and memories that made me build walls.
The thing that I learnt was not to depend
On people who just let you down in the end.

That desperate need – it grew and became
My way to survive when playing the game;
Only to trust in myself every day,
Shunning all help when it did come my way.

But now things are different – I’m frightened and scared,
My head’s in a mess and I’m just not prepared.
I haven’t the strength to keep going alone
But asking for help is such an unknown.

The truths that I learnt in my childhood years
Say to trust in my God and to tell him my fears.
But knowing those facts is one thing indeed,
What I really don’t know is how to proceed.

It sounds very easy in logical terms –
You pray and you trust, then your faith is confirmed.
Perhaps I’ve forgotten, or maybe I’m dumb,
Or maybe it’s simply just what I’ve become;

But whenever I try all those things that are right –
I get on my knees and I feel so contrite.
Yet no matter what effort I put in my prayer
It still doesn’t feel like there’s anyone there.

“A daughter of God,” they tell me – my worth
I’ve been told it as long as I’ve been on this earth.
But I just don’t feel that – I don’t feel connected,
I’ve pushed him away and it’s me that’s affected.

I’ve made every effort to try and exclude Him,
And now that I have it’s my future that looks grim.
I feel so inadequate, selfish and weak,
For shutting the door and refusing to speak.

And now that I reach for the handle, it’s hard
To believe the relationship hasn’t been scarred.
It’s hard to accept that He loves me, no matter,
That He’ll open his arms and my walls he will shatter.

Despite my mistakes and all my bad choices,
Despite all of the times that I heard the wrong voices,
He’s waited so patiently for me to return
Hoping that one day I really would learn.

He isn’t judgemental and He isn’t a critic,
But one thing He’ll do is make me analytic.
He’ll help me to see all the paths that were wrong,
And help me get back, so with Him I’ll be strong.

So all that remains is for me to explore
Is just how to open that one-handled door.
It has to be me that opens it from my side
Because otherwise He will have to stay outside.

How can something that sounds so perfectly plain
Befuddle my mind again and again.
I have to let go – change old habits to new,
And really have faith that He’ll help me get through.

I still don’t quite know where I have to start
In order to feel Him right here in my heart.
But I know that I want Him to be by my side
To help me and guide me and let me confide.

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Every week is filled with the same fakery.
They see my skin –
         the mask which covers the inner me.
They ask the same meaningless questions
         that request so much but expect so little.
I dutifully hand back the required responses
         confirming that which the mask portrays.
Social protocol is satisfied.

But I am no further forward in being heard.
I am passing through on the outside,
         invisible to those I meet.
They fool themselves into believing
         that what I said had substance.
But how do they know?
I don’t want to conceal the truth
         but they won’t allow me to release it.

If only my skin were a mirror
         reflecting the inner me.
If only my answers were allowed to be real.
But then I would become a stranger to them,
         a person they did not know,
         perhaps even a monster..
Yet, most shockingly, they would reluctantly admit
         that I was someone to whom they could relate.
Two souls connecting at a far deeper level
         than society dictates is proper.
They would realise the futility
         of wearing their own mask.

I am not brave enough to be that first person –
         to say who I really am;
         to reveal my true being and admit vulnerability.
I cannot initiate a cascade reaction –
         a baring of souls to the world
         where all is what it really is.
I have no right to ruthlessly destroy the rituals of communication
         that are etched into the sculpture of society.
For now I shall abide by the rules
         and remain safe in my inner sanctuary.

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