Thursday, 19 January 2012

My Dark Place

I’m in ‘that’ place again.

I don’t plan or ask to come here, it just happens. I felt ‘low’ when I woke up on Monday morning, no reason, just felt a bit rubbish. By Monday afternoon, I knew where I was going. It’s Thursday now, and whilst I can feel I’m coming around a bit, I’m still not right. Even Twitter (which I absolutely love) was given my ‘I won’t be around for a while’ tweet as soon as I suspected.

I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember, certainly since I was 19 – almost 25 years ago. I feel empty, nothingness. I yearn for someone to just give me a huge hug and make a real fuss of me, but, at the same time I want to be left alone. That’s the paradox I suppose. Not knowing what I want, but needing it desperately!

I took anti-depressants for a period of around twelve months around 6 years ago. I haven’t taken them since. In a way, it’s my acceptance of what I am – it may not be the right thing to do, and other people may differ, but it’s my decision.

I’m lucky that I have a very understanding wife. She knows how I feel, she does her best to pick me up, and, really is my Tower of Strength. My family knew about the course of medication I had, but, I’m sure they think I’m ‘cured’ now. As all sufferers will know, it never goes away. Mine re-appearing every few months.

I know there are people that suffer far more than I. My heart really does go out to them and their Hell. I’m lucky I suppose, I’m usually out of this place within a couple of weeks, it may be tomorrow, who knows?

I don’t like being like this. I feel like I’m a burden to people and failing, again. Failure is something that hangs over me like a cloud. Apparently, I have atychiphobia. It’s a condition that is closely related to depression, and, sometimes my fear of failing can get so overwhelming that it stops me from getting on and doing normal stuff. I can worry about putting a shelf up. And worry. And worry. If I succeed in the task, I feel bloody great, wanting praise for the simple task I’ve just performed.

Anyway, I digress. I’m a depressive, a mentalist, whatever you want to call it. I like to think I’m a bit Maaaaaad! I am in a dark place right now and I need to find the exit.

Wish me luck.

Tuesday, 10 January 2012



oh how I miss you,

I love you now like I always did.


I long to kiss you,

how I wish that you had lived.

I will never fully understand why you had to take your life

We were promising together; you were going to be my wife

Now, whatever made you leave this world, you’ve finally left behind

And the memories I have of you are mine and only mine.


I trust that you’re at one,

that you will now be blessed.


We’d only just begun -

we could have taken on the rest.

I’m sure the reasons that you had are justified beyond recourse

And the only things I can’t accept are my feelings of remorse

Though you’re sure to be content that what you feared is gone for good

I will never feel the same till I’m with you again, my love.


I was visited that night, by a lady

I was not scared

I was not fearful

but intrigued – who was she?

Now I have heard of the death of a friend and I cannot help thinking it was her that came.

Did she speak to me? – No.

Did she smile at me? – No.

Did she want to? – No?

Could that night have been my chance to say “Goodbye”?

Could these words I write be the opportunity to say “I know”?

And I believe that she will now live on without pain

without hurt

without sadness

Though I have no God ‘per se’ I believe she has found a heaven

Though she had no God (as I recall) she deserves to find peace

Though the only faith she had was in herself

She now lives on without the pain

the hurt

the cancer

Maybe she came to me that night to tell me to write on

Write on!

Maybe she came to me that night to say there is another life

Her way of saying “Goodbye” was beautiful



I was not scared

I was not fearful

Now I believe that it was her

I am not hurt that she has gone

Just honoured, grateful, that she came to me before the journey into her new life

Onward into the next life?

I believe that one day we will be reborn

I believe that one day we are all reborn

Maybe the ones that deny God are the ones that are the closest to Him?

Maybe the ones that resist faith are the ones whose faith is the strongest?

Resting Place

Standing in the shadow of her glory

The wind encapsulates me

The rain batters my form

Her long back, her rounded head -

Like a whale surfacing

Am I to be her Jonah

swallowed whole?

Or, am I the child of the monster

rising from green fields, purple heather, brown forests?

She is:

The end of my rainbow

My pot of gold

(even in this rain)

Thine is the glory

She is my drug

Injecting me with new life


We are as one

My true love

Heaven is this place

Artistic Autistic

Who knows what he thinks?

What he feels?

Who knows why he cries when he doesn’t know why himself?

Who knows why he draws a picture that he is scared of?

To live in his world

When there is no fear, but the poster on the wall

That’s all?

To live in his world

Where he is taunted for being himself

And that’s all?

To live in his world

Where he is only scared by the hair on his plate

Is that all?

Over capacity with feelings and emotions that he does not understand

I know not what he thinks

I know not what he feels

I just try and comfort him