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Black as Coal Dust.

Wanting to write words of meaning
Of guidance, love, and trust
And finding thoughts, instead
Preoccupied with pain, unease, and
Me.
No room for anythink else, when
Frequently preoccupied with
Thoughts of survival, escape,
Unhappiness.
Here, there is no magic kingdom
Only a coal face of hard work,
Struggle.
I want to dance, but
The headroom and atmosphere
Down here is so,
Oppressive.
Crushed by the very thought
Of a cave-in
While lighting a candle, will surely
Ignite the explosive dust
Surrounding me;
Safety
Is the only pain prevention
Ever drummed into me, and
There are pills for that
Tonics for your health
Yet they all fail to medicate
What matters to me
I grip the bottle tightly
But it’s gone,
Already emptied.
Weak muscles wish to unravel
This tightly coiled,
Personality.
I see bones, I see skin,
I see nothing within
And the shock of emptiness
Is all that carries through,
Carried back home.
Before everything else
There was nothing
And the future holds nothing, but
The contents of today.

Stepping Backwards.

The required effort to
Externalise the internal
Share, as isolation rebuttal
Reveal the darkness
Expose lies and truths
All of this drains
Scarce resources
All of this, necessary
The battle for survival
Begins deep inside
Striving for my own life
Sharing for other’s benefit
Hoping for collective strength
Believing that surviving
will be embraced by us all.

Stockholm Syndrome.

This environment is my familiarity
My friend through long association
Warning intentions are long silenced
Pushed back and smothered by
seemingly real existence.

I have embraced my environment
in order to survive
in order to feel some comfort
when there was insufficient elsewhere
Now I cage myself in the familiar
And hope can only be expressed by others
The sweet syrup of darkness,
sticks and engulfs me
Your light is not bright enough to shine through.

(12 May 2016)

Neither Pride Nor Joy.

  
Sunday was survived. And anyone I choose to discuss this with would no doubt congratulate me, with understanding that to do so is not a failure in any way.

But I hold no pride, nor joy. Even though my focus for the day was solely on caring for myself, the pain of the struggle has taken it’s toll.

I feel wrecked from the push and pull of feelings. Exhausted, from the effort required to maintain a functional human form today. Lost, from the lack of any spiritual connection. And forgotten, from the missing physical contact that comes with closing myself away.

I don’t wish to isolate myself. Keeping in touch with others just consumes more energy than I feel capable of handling. While the influence of depression leads to numerous scenarios, real and imagined, that drag my emotions in disparate directions.

And it’s all shrouded in fear. Wondering if I won’t be able to function tomorrow, because I don’t just bounce back. Concern over the lasting impact the physical and emotional tolls take.

I’m tired of dealing with the crashed feelings. I don’t want to stay down there. The further struggle to pull myself back up is also draining. It creates more feelings of loneliness and exhaustion.

Mostly, I choose not to burden others with this. Because when they don’t understand and don’t know what to say, or how to respond to me, it breaks my heart that little bit more each time.

So many days, I sit here between hopelessness and helplessness. Afraid to move, afraid to aggravate one or the other. Feeling stuck; silent but conspicuous.

Survival is not my choice. It simply must be, no matter how I feel. And so, I mostly feel, little pride, little joy.

Protecting What Matters.

I spent about an hour of semi-conscious breaking-dawn light trying to remember names from the past. I had dreamt about them just before waking and the compulsion to reconnect was strong. Over twenty five years ago, that’s how far I was reaching back. I didn’t quite get the intended result in the end. But I did manage to pull up another friend of the time, finally got a name, finally remember a particular spelling, finally found them on a google image search (cyber stalking much?).

So then I was thinking about why the strong compulsion to reconnect. Particularly given my severe depressive episode this week. Looking for a friendly connection, a greater sense of belonging, a reminder that I am OK as a person? Looking for recognition of me, when I have been stuck into hating myself? Perhaps looking for a reminder that it’s possible to have an ok time of life, to enjoy just being with a good group of friends.

Rose coloured glasses! My quest notwithstanding, I know that depression was a big part of my life back then as well. Less understood, so not acknowledged at the time. But the more I gaze back into that past, the more I remember the negative feelings, the pain and the searching for comfort.

And right now, I really don’t want that sort of reminder. I easily slip into thought patterns of “why bother” with myself, and “life’s always been such a struggle – see how broken you are”. None of these are helpful. A little voice in the back of my mind says “none of those are true”.

It’s a daily struggle. Sometimes I can help myself. Sometimes I cannot. But one thing I am learning right in this very moment, is this. It is not easy, but it’s worth the fight. And it’s necessary to fight for what is valuable and important.

I don’t particularly feel those last adjectives in regards to myself, but it is being communicated to me through current friends. People I trust and love, people I am thankful for having in my life.

When the thoughts in my head drag me down into my lonely dark hole of depression, I trust these friends to hold my hand, to hang on tight and not let go, to pull me back into the light.

So maybe my dreaming was about rallying the troops. Gathering an army of support close around me. Because I need it.

I don’t know whether this is all for the biggest battle yet to come, or whether this is about everyday defences.

Either way, any way, it’s about protecting what matters.

antony gormley - domain field 2003 ru_garage_2009_006_ref

The Day the World Forgot about Me.

Today I don’t know what darkest days are
Today I am unaware of depression
Today I just don’t want to be

Focus stopped me from falling into the traffic
Focus guided my bicycle through backstreets to the office
Focus kept me moving when I would have just stopped

Today my head floats aimlessly, as work is lost to surviving
Today I gave up on caring
Today the world forgot about me

Now There is Nothing.

I stopped and looked at myself
On the inside
The space that no one else sees
A check-in
From a clear head
After blurry weeks of just surviving
And I saw a desert
Nothing but dry sand
All the way to the horizon
I blinked and looked again
Nothing but ocean
Treacherous depths
No wonder I feel lost
No joy, no love, no life

(28 August 2015)

Somewhen.

Somewhen
Focussing on moving
On stepping forwards
Each and every day
Desperate
To not slip backwards,
Became running
Away from the pain
Away from myself,
And I got so lost
Before I realised
What was happening.
And now
I don’t know whether
To keep running blindly? or
to STOP
Scared of where I ended up
Scared of what I’m running from
Scared of all the imagined demons
Lost
Alone
Uncertain
Unsure of everything
Life – exists no more
Survival is all I know.

.

[ I pressed these words, and then found this from 10 days ago ]