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Archive for the ‘My Blog’ Category

The Abyss of Depression


At first it isn’t there, not for me;
Its something that exists for others and I can only imagine.
But we don’t acknowledge it, and we pretend it isn’t real.

Then I caught a glimpse; a shimmer in the distance.
The abyss had announced itself in my life.
Shouldered its way in without permission.

Mostly I ignored the abyss as it prowled around my horizon.
If I dismiss it long enough it would surely leave.
Except one day I awoke and it was closer then before.

It’s harder to ignore now, and blocking my view.
Tentacles of dark shadow slithering towards me.
Caressing my skin and tainting my being.

Each day becomes more laborious.
A constant battle to banish the abyss;
To return my life to its peaceful, undulating landscape.

The abyss is inexorable, always finding chinks in my armour.
Until I am at the edge staring down;
Down into the unfathomable black of the beast.

Suddenly I am clinging to the edge from inside the abyss.
How did that happen?
When did I move from out to in?

Now the fight is on two fronts
I must hold on to avoid falling further;
Yet also find the strength to climb out.

I am tired of the battle, so tired.
The walls of the abyss are smooth as glass.
What is the point in fighting any more?

Everyone else is so far above me in the light.
In the abyss I am invisible,
Caught in the trap of despair and hopelessness

As I slide deeper and deeper,
I am consumed by the darkness of the abyss.
Life before the dark is a vague memory.

Should I just let go? Let the abyss claim me?
I could relinquish myself to the dark,
And sleep the sleep of forever.

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This was written a number of years ago when I was struggling with depression

The choice is there every day –
to take or not to take.
     Pills are in the cupboard,
          the cupboard is on the wall,
               the wall is in the kitchen.

I need help, but feel weak for needing it –
not even sure what can help.
     Something for the pain,
          the pain inside,
               inside of me.

The doctor said drugs for now, if I want –
perhaps to rediscover my perspective.
     I cling to that hope,
          hope that seems distant,
               the distance that separates me from sanity.

My answer is yes, anything to feel different –
then a new problem emerges.
     Taking them feels like failure,
          a failure that is my fault,
               it’s my fault I can’t cope.

Not coping is one of the reasons to medicate –
so now a vicious circle.
     I can’t cope, so I take the pills,
          I take the pills, and feel more useless,
               I feel useless, and can’t cope…

Some morning are OK, reaching up –
get it over with.
     A white box of pills,
          the pills to be swallowed,
               to swallow and try not to think.

Other mornings my hand falters –
can’t even open the cupboard.
     They seem to make no difference,
          no difference in how I feel,
               no feelings that I can sort out.

My friends say to take them –
try to fix what is broken.
     But what is broken is inside,
          and inside is what I control,
               and lack of control is why I am broken.

My mind has a spacious cupboard –
overflowing with far too much.
     I put things there to keep,
          I keep them because I can’t let go,
               I can’t let go but I want to forget.

I yearn for oblivion and an end to pain –
no more complexity.
I try to use logic,
but logic and feelings don’t mix,
and mixed up is what I am.

Long-term, introspection is critical –
reclaiming to a degree of sanity.
     Untangle the web,
          the web of my mind,
               my mind that is lost.

Short-term, I return to the dilemma –
to take or not to take.
     Pills are in the cupboard,
          the cupboard is on the wall,
               the wall is in the kitchen.

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Dichotomy of Nature

It struck me that there was an interesting contrast to be drawn between the chaos that can be caused by something so beautifully ordered.

The Chaos

Dancing, swirling,
Floating, falling,
Snowflakes in the air.

Whispering gently,
Raging loudly,
Downwards they must go.

Not predictive,
Or conducive,
They don’t seem to care.

Finely dusted,
Thickly blanketed,
How are we to know?

Forecasts vaguely
Saying maybe,
Tell us to prepare.

Talk is humming,
Is it coming?
At the moment… no!

The Order

A perfect snowflake  of intricate design interwoven like a lace doily.

A breathtaking pattern of nature.

Symmetry on a wonderfully small scale.

It remains oblivious to the chaos it causes.

Structure is everything.

Cold is its habitat.

No confusion, or chaos.

Until warmth… when molecules release.

Perfection is lost in a puddle of utter confusion.

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Complicated Regrets

Dug out of some old stuff I wrote in 2008

Complicated Regrets

You live and you learn
Screw up and get burned
Cry tears of regret
Find it hard to forget
Try to bury things deep
In an untidy heap
Get told to be strong
To be weak is so wrong

With nothing to warn
My emotions are torn
I have gone from composed
To very exposed
All so confused
My tender soul bruised
Seems like my fate
Has been lying in wait

Strength must assemble
The thought makes me tremble
I quiver and quake
Whilst in pain my heart aches
Correcting this wrong
Takes incredibly long
Causing near ones to hurt
Whilst I’m branded as dirt

The task isn’t complete
So I cannot retreat
These things that I feel
Will no longer conceal
Unbidden flow tears
Stored up over years
The peace which I sought
Is finally caught

So complex to explain
People offer disdain
All rushing to judge
To gossip and nudge
Their critique causes pain
Makes the sun turn to rain
I have to survive
Until good times arrive

The battles are fought
Vital lessons are taught
To my dearest I’ll cleave
True peace to achieve
What for years was elusive
Is now all inclusive
My soul is at rest
Those who know can attest

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Lonely Christmas

This was written a few Christmases ago when life was kicking me in the teeth.  I make no excuse for the single instance of profanity.  At the time of writing my thoughts and feeling were swinging between despair and anger, so what was written came from the heart.

 

Christmas…
“How was Christmas?”
They ask.
“Did you have a good Christmas?”
They ask.
I bet it was great fun with all the kids!”
They say.

We nod and smile –
The practiced lie,
But no one really knows,
Or asks where we were,
Or who we were with.

They all assume –
That Christmas Day = family
But no – no, no, NO.
So fucking wrong.

Christmas was lonely –
Just the two of us,
Rejected by those who professed to care
And that rejection worse than not having anyone at all.

Enforced solitude
When all around shrieked joy and happiness.
No one saw the tears we cried
Or felt our pain.

For that day we were orphaned
With nothing to do,
Nowhere to go,
No one to share with,
No festivities to join.

When hunger finally overtook despair and anger
We ate takeaway in a deserted carpark,
Our only companion – a security camera
Assigned to watch the close of our pathetic day.

 

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She is who I am not
She satisfies where I cannot
She is the me that is not me
She is the sum of alien expectations
She walks a path I cannot tread
She makes me look like a failure
She is a constant reminder of what I am not
She is an invention of someone else’s making
She is my alter-ego who stares back at me from the mirror
She iluminates all my flaws
She tramples all my weaknesses and insecurities
She holds the whip that threatens when I falter
She is a collection of perceived ideas
She is compartmentalised where I am chaos
She causes me frustration at every turn
She fights me constantly for control
She is cold, hard logic where I am fuzzy, confused emotions
She is the false identity that tries to adopt my name
She is not me
She cannot be allowed to be me
I am not her

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Fantasy vs Reality

Fantasy
Harmless fun
All based around “What if…?”
A chance for imagination to run wild.

Wishing and dreaming
For perfect scenarios.
No verbal faux pas,
Or tiredness,
Or scraped knees.

The fairytale quality,
The illusion of perfection.

Fantasy has its place,
For dreaming is what the mind at rest is suited to.
But with it, always,
Comes the temptation to cross the line
To reality.

Reality
A different game entirely.
New rules apply
And the stakes are higher.

Where fantasy always conquered evil
And let the good guy win,
The conversion from bubble to being
Twists and warps that which was so flawless.

There is no win or lose;
Only a forfeit to be paid.

Imperfection is all around,
Mocking the fantasy
Until what is left
Is a faded sepia snapshot
Bearing little resemblance to the dream.

Yet strangely
Although logic laughs in its face,
The hope persists,
Secured by a single thread,
That perhaps one day
The translation from fantasy to reality
Might border on perfection.

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