I had a very restless night. Sometimes I like the dark, the way it hides me but sometimes, times such as last night, I fear it. I fear it when my it's just me, the dark and my mind. Last night in the dark my mind wouldn't stop throwing up the past and I couldn't resist either trying to answer them by replicating the past and coming up with different outcomes or allowing myself to become so embroiled up in it all that I quickly became angry and/or sad. Sometimes I really do think that one day I will awake from all this and see her next to me and then tell her about the nightmare I'd had over breakfast like we used to most mornings. But I suppose, in some ways, that's a dream within itself.
"But listen carefully to the sound, of your loneliness like a heartbeat... drives you mad. In the stillness of remembering what you had, and what you lost."
Over the summer I got into another cartoon show. What few readers I have will recall my love for Adventure Time and in addition to that I also recently have gained much love for Regular Show. It is fab and I highly recommend it. On a recent show one of the characters spoke about his feelings regarding a former love. It went like this: Rigby:"She's not coming back dude, she's gone." Mordecai:"Look, I know, all right, I know. It's just, I mean, I don't still have feelings for her but I do in a way. It's like this thing that's inside of me and it's always just sort of sitting there waiting around and sometimes I'll see something or I'll smell something and it makes me think of her even though I don't want to." This pretty much sums up me and my situation with regards to my ex-wife. No matter how far I think I've come and how much time I think I've put between myself and that life something will invariably pop up and take me back. How long this will go on for I have no idea and I suspect that it will carry on for some time yet. I can't just pack away a 7 year relationship with all it's good, bad and in between moments to the back of my mind. It doesn't work like that as much as I wish it would sometimes.
The Second Great Depression
This time of year doesn't help and what makes it pinch that bit more is recalling a conversation and a moment we'd both had in a cafe at a Sainsbury's back in Xmas 2011. It was then that I really opened up to her regarding what was then the beginnings of my black. Suicidal feelings were starting to take hold and I thought it best if I was open with her. I remember the awful coconut hot chocolate we'd both had and the shortbread and it's left over crumbs, me pushing them around the plate and picking them up with my finger after I'd moistened it with my tongue. I also remember what she said, about how she'd be there for me and that she wasn't going anywhere too. When I think about it now either she was lying to me or she was lying to herself. I'm not sure which. Perhaps a mix of the two. The girl who always did and strived to do the right thing that time ended up not. All that fuss she made about our vows and us writing them and reading them out to each other on our honeymoon and she couldn't even hold to the most basic one. In sickness and in health. Perhaps she thought it was more a guideline rather than a rule and besides it surely didn't mean mental health? Perhaps that made it null and void? Another year over and still no real end in sight.
Yesterday was a nice day in terms of wandering in and out of shops, buying a few nice things (Shop assistant at Forbidden Planet to me: Buying some Xmas gifts? Me: Yes, for me!) and getting things done that needed to be done. It was an almost total reverse of Friday's feelings and I was at times quite happy, my mind racing. I've had this before and it sometimes feels like I'm exhausting these feelings of happiness only for them to run out on me when needed. Like today. Today, I felt tired and worn. Again. In fact, it seemed to all hinge upon one thought of her entering my mind and laying out on bed, hoping to exercise later on, for those were my plans, but knowing deep down that I probably wouldn't. I then drifted in and out of sleep and each time I not only felt irritable and uncomfortable but thoughts of her ruled supreme. Each time they did I'd wake myself up on the verge of tears, the very act waking me up. I dreamt about her last night and that seems to have been the trigger for today. As soon as I thought back to it the effect did for me quick snap. In the dream, I was trying to talk to her to say how much I missed her but every-time she had a boyfriend either with her or suddenly joining in to sit next to her un-moving. Sometimes, like today, I miss her so much it scares me. It's days like these that make me feel as though I'm living a life I shouldn't be, like I'm living a life that if it were in photographs there would have a little space cut out where her place should be. I know it's the time of year where it pinches much more acutely, her absence, but still it hurts. This isn't really great timing either as I had some good news re: my trip to London and a job interview. I got the job which is fab' but current black rules the roost and right now my past wants my time and it's proving very difficult to push it to the side. Today I am totally bereft of her and it hurts.
I found out today the result of that job interview I went to
London for this morning. Well, I say this morning as in when it was sent but in
reality I actually received once I woke up from a half slumber/half awake daze.
The news was good, very good. I’m in. Unfortunately due to
it being one of those days it hasn’t really sunk it yet. I’m sure it will but
right now it has had little effect on me. Which, I suppose, proves quite
starkly that depression is not solely mood based, by that I mean it isn’t a
case of feeling a bit down until the next mood or bit of good news comes along
and hey, I’m fine now! It’ll suck the life out of you regardless of what’s going
on in your life. Admittedly, I knew this, it, obviously, being borne out of direct
contact with the illness more than anything but it was good to have it tested
out directly.
…has won the battle easily
I have no idea why I’m how I am today. I can’t see any links
to any triggers that sometimes preclude such emptiness. I just feel worn and
empty. It’s not even that extreme blackness I've had before this time it’s more
grey, a deep steel grey cloudy sky of a day that keeps threatening rain but keeps
it back, instead suffocating the day with its continual cover and bleached colour.
Or, basically, it’s a bad day.
A small worry has crept min with the news too, what of my
meds?
What of days like these that ruin everything? Will I have them over
there? And what if I do, what then? I've yet to see or sign the contract and I’m
already worrying.
Have a day off will ya brain?!
But it won’t. It never will.
When it does keep quiet it’s
only slumbering until the next time.
I had a trip to London at the start of this week regarding a potential job abroad. The last time I went to London was about a year ago prior to leaving for Boston. What I was still pleased about was that I still do enjoy going to London, it hasn't lost it's novelty factor for me yet. Time spent travelling whether by road or rail and looking at the passing streets with their famous names and the big landmarks still make me smile inwardly and outwardly. When going I always make sure that I have certain songs on my player too that evoke the capital whenever I play them. They are: The Streets 'Original Pirate Material' Madness anything and everything by them The Jam, again anything and everything by them Trainspotting soundtrack When I used to gig and before I-pods and before I had the funds to buy one I used to take my portable CD player and in that I would place the aforementioned albums. It could be a bit awkward, carrying those cd's and the suchlike but I had to have music with me when travelling. For one thing, it helps create a mood and it also always calms me down. It's something I've done since I was a child and had a cassette Walkman copy player. I remember one occasion where a teacher suggested I used one when I was on a school trip in France back in 1985. I was feeling ill and very homesick and after I just about managed to calm down the teacher suggested using a pal's Walkman to listen to and so I did just before sleep and in bed. It worked and is something I've used ever since, whether to calm myself down when younger and travelling or to relax and fall asleep to and sink in to after a bad day, of which I've had a few these past few years. Recently certain albums and songs have really connected with me whenever I've had bad times and if I haven't listened to those tunes for a while it's almost like an aural blanket that welcomes and envelopes me when I plug in to those tunes, those soothing and understanding tunes. It almost feels as if we have a direct connection from song to head, a main line. And it feels wonderful, like an audio hot water bottle. This song I've put here is by The Streets. I love the song and it was one I listened to before going out on the sauce and when I'd come back as well. I don't know what it is about the song, maybe it's the tower block cover or just the theme of the tunes but it always puts me in mind of London, despite Mike Skinner being from Birmingham and mentioned that city in the song. Still, songs rarely make sense when they evoke what they do and for me this tune will always be associated with London and trying to keep those nerves at bay. Enjoy.
This past Monday I had a little lapse. It had all started
well enough but after browsing in some shops, looking for something but generally
just nosing around I started to think back to when me and her used to shop. It was
probably because a shop that I was in was one we did actually shop together in, only the
once but it still brought to life a previously dormant memory. And as that
memory came and went I saw other couples shopping together and the memory became
stronger. Even leaving the shop didn't help and as I began to slowly trudge around the shopping centre I could almost see me and her walking around shopping
as we had done those four years ago in my mind's eyes. As it happened I briefly wished
that I could forgo everything just to go back and start again with her.
Couldn't I? Please?
'Memories haunt me like a curse'
After that I felt myself draining away and it wasn't until I
started my day’s activities that I forgot it all. It seems the only way I can keep it at bay.
Still.
Wishes. I wish, I wish, I
wish. If there was a wishing well it would surely have run dry by now. Would I
really want to go back? Probably not. Even if that magical reality came true
all it would do is reset the clock. All I’d be doing is rewinding the film, playing
it over and over, enjoying the scenes time and again. But sooner or later the
film has to stop, it has to reach it’s ending, it's conclusion no matter how painful or sad it
is. With Xmas shopping now in full flow, the sight of couples and families shopping is
difficult to endure and no matter who hard I wish I’ll never be able to rewind
the film. Because right now and I'm sure in time to come I will want to rewind my film.
Recently my dreams have been quite vivid. One I had recently
had me watching a thick freezing fog slowly envelope me and all the while I knew it was
happening and that I couldn't do anything about it. I think I was describing it as
it was happening to me, knowing that it would be hard to escape from. I’m
hoping that this was more a reflective type of dream rather than anything of a
forewarning.
Really hoping. Hoping hard. And my ex-wife has featured in these
dreams too. I can’t remember how she featured but I do know that she did
feature in them.
My dreams, depending on what I’m up to do that day, tend to be
layered. A big involved dream, wake up briefly and then lots of little dreams
afterwards. Those dreams still unsettle me but at least they don’t ruin me for
the day like they used to. But they still leave an imprint. I don’t know how
long it will take until I’m free of her and the past. Maybe I never will be.
But where does that leave me with regards to future relationships? It makes me
very nervous indeed and not at all keen to pursue one. The trouble is I am
craving going out with female company, window shopping, coffee shop chats, playful
flirting meals and the such like but it’s not happening right now but
considering what I've just written maybe that’s just as well? To pursue or not
to pursue?
And if that wasn't bad enough, Xmas is coming.
Xmas’ for
me haven’t been the best, last year’s after my return from the US was particularly
bad and seemed to be the precursor to an awful start to the new year. I did
have plans to leave for another country but the problem with that was being
alone and having no agenda as to what to do when away. Maybe it would have made
me feel worse? I’m not sure but I wasn't keen on taking the risk so here I will
stay this Xmas. I had dreams about y fears in the summer, I was worrying about it
that much but the dreams had me doing other things, coaching in Germany, time
spent in the US, enjoying Xmas and completely forgetting my previous bad Xmas’
and previous Xmas worry.
Now hopefully those dreams were a foretelling of a
possible future.
Whenever I arrive in a new place, be it city or shop I'm always comforted by the presence of foreign students or newly arrived immigrants. This is because seeing them and hearing them makes me feel less isolated and alone because I know that they too are getting used to their surroundings and a potential new routine as well as me. It started years ago when I used to gig in London. I used to feel like a tiny any lost among the throng of locals. It didn't take too long for me to soon moan about the tourists and their incorrect use of the tube escalator like the natives but it is something I still seem to fall back on whenever in a new situation. At the moment I'm playing 11-a-side football as goalkeeper. This is a stressful position at the best of times and may seem an odd choice considering my depressive past and current present. Since reading Robert Enke's biography, A life too short, it inspired me to get back into it all. It was the last position I played at 6th form so it seemed a natural position to get back into. What I didn't take into account, however, was my state of mind in playing. The nerves, the fear of messing it up, thoughts of others and general pressure of play. All of these mixed together presented a mountain to try and climb. My first game this season went to expectations that I had to deal with. My first game pretty much matched those expectations as in it went badly. First shot on my goal, I rushed it and it went between my legs. Swallow me up now ground, swallow me up now! It didn't and after that it got a little bit better, hey, it couldn't have gotten any worse could it? It's a lonely position but for all the perceived minus' it suits me to play it. It's taken a long time but I finally seem comfortable playing and do, just about, look forward to playing it. I have had my moments of not playing and thinking up an excuse to not play when at my lowest. Like I've stated previously on this blog I'm getting quite good at lying. It has helped me enormously. It's just a lot easier than saying, 'Hey, I'm having a bad day. Probably best if I don't play today.' I just dare not risk putting that out there yet.
Dedicated to my fellow blogger, halfway between the gutter and the stars and myself. This song always makes me smile and feel nice. To the future, whatever it may hold for us both :)
So, my second year has started and so far so good (despite a current set-back of flu and food poisoning which has left me with a diet of digestive biccies and rusks) and with regards to the deep black it is starting to ebb. I haven't felt this clear for a long time, clear of that greying numbness, clear of the nullifying anxiety. I still get the odd explosion of nerves and doubt but they are manageable. Fairly. Lately, however, my ex-wife has been creeping into my thoughts. I'm not sure why, maybe it's all starting to seep out now after the numbness of the depression? Stuck beneath it's depths up it pops after being stuck beneath its darkness. Maybe? I'm not sure but what it is giving me is a sense of loss and sadness. The way she ended it, the way I took it and well, just missing her and missing her from my life. "...just where I was before you appeared. And in your place an empty space..." Some days I really do miss her; I miss her presence and I miss her counsel when I needed it her calming words were such a help. I also miss her as a lover, a partner and most of all as a friend. I allowed the feelings to take over yesterday and even sneaked a long peek at some older honeymoon pics that I have stored on my games system. It was a mix of nostalgia, happiness and bemusement at the arguments we had over which I still can't remember what they were really about. It also made me long for Italy too and brought to mind my mild ambition to work over there, specifically in Verona. What a city that was. Mind you, I would need to sort out my Italian linguistic skills. Or rather limited skills. And that's not even mentioning my German ambitions and more lack (litotes?) of linguistic skills. It's nice to have ambitions, I guess. So with these feelings about her I suppose there isn't much I can do about it. It's difficult to really talk to anyone about it apart from a select few who would get it and even then when that is done I still have to deal with it on my own but I don't know how to. Perhaps that's it. Perhaps I don't have to deal with it in the sense that there isn't anything to deal with except, well acceptance. Leaving that feeling and memory alone, knowing why it's there and why bothering me, acknowledging it when it resurfaces and, when appropriate indulging in either nostalgia or sadness. Is that the way for peace for me? Within me? If I want to move on and attempt at any sort of a relationship I think that it is.
Watching Breaking Bad recently (It's a show I've gotten into lately along with Game of Thrones), I was wondering about me and if my depressive tendencies will lead me towards a path of ultimate self destruction. It wasn't a bad day today but it wasn't the best. And when you have another in a long line of not the best day(s) you tend to get tired of them, weary of them. Tired and weary of battling yourself and your mind and when that happens the question of suicide sometimes pops up. How much longer can I keep battling this? Battling this part of me, illness though it is, takes its toll. I mean, will it come to pass that one day in the far future will I just reach a point where I've had enough and decide to end it? That's a scary thought. One in a very long line of scary thoughts granted but scary it still is. Things are ok at the moment but when they aren't this thought occasionally appears. Will I survive? Do I have it in me to keep surviving?
Much has happened since my last proper entry. I’ve gained a
year, I’ve got myself some part time work and I had a good spell of non-blackness.
This past week or so however, it has returned and I find myself in a little
slump. Robin Williams passing has brought it into sharper focus as well, as is usual whenever I hear about a suicide.
It always
starts off innocently enough, a missing day of the gym here or there, over
tiredness later sleeping hours which lead to over sleeping into the day. This
then starts to stretch into days and then weeks and I find it harder to get up,
to get out and do anything.
It has also come at an awkward time; it always
does, as I’m due to go away over the weekend. I’m nervous as I know what I’m
like when it comes to events like these and I’m at a low point. Anxiety goes up
and my will to do anything sinks. I want to go but leaving the comfort of my
bed and my little space, again, is a daunting one.
It’s a battle once again. I was almost getting used to not
being this way over the past couple of months and actually thought I might be
able to decrease my meds. Fat chance of that now. Over 2 and a half years of
this. Will it ever improve? Will I ever improve?
I recently completed CBT therapy one on one and it went well
and I left it with some tools to use. Now’s the time to use them, I guess.
It doesn’t help that this morning I had a nice dream about
my x-wife. In it she was loving and, well, nice. I cant recall if it was a get back
together or not. I do know that I woke myself up from it, almost as if my subconscious
wanted me to end it so I wouldn’t have to deal with the bittersweet after effects
once I woke up. It did serve, however, to remind me how much I miss her. She
could have such a calming effect on me if I had to do something that got me a little bit worked up. She was also someone I
could look forward to seeing on my return.
Obviously, not anymore.
Still, that was her choice
and it’s something I must remind myself, regardless of the nice dreams. It was
her choice to leave when I was at my worst.
Like most kids I was scared by the dark. I was scared by its potential to hide things away only for them to jump on me and attack me as soon as the lights went out. Now, as an adult, I find the dark comforting. It's a place I can hide away in when the lights go out. In the dark I feel safe, covered, hidden in the shadows away from everyone and sometimes even away from myself. When I'm having one of those days of black I have to shut everything away, the shutters come down, literally and figuratively and the light goes out. It could be blazing sun outside, warm with beautiful blue skies but inside it's dark, shady with only music for company and the light hue of my laptop the only illumination.
'Go to sleep, everything is alright'
When I get to bed too that provides me with some respite. I'll either plug in to some tunes or leave the TV on, because although I want to be enshrouded in darkness I sometimes get overwhelmed by loneliness so having the TV on can sometimes give me some audio company. Whether it's day or night when I'm having a day like today the dark is my friend. How things change when you reach adulthood. From scary to comforting. Conversely, when I think of even attempting to get into that great comfort of relationships, I get scared. What was comforting is now so scary. Everything will be ok once I turn the lights out.
Another Thursday and another night/morning of dreams about
her. I awoke much as I did last week, in a state of tiredness and feeling down
and worn. I can’t recall the dreams but I do remember them being mostly about
her and her departing from me. At times she was in the dream but mostly she
wasn’t and it was me trying to comprehend what was happening or what was about
to happen to me. Even thinking about it now the feelings I had are coming
alive, like the scent of coffee once you open its bag, strong and
permeating.
At the time the whole divorce situation did not really sink
in, not for a long time. The sense of unreality stayed with me for a long time
and has only now, until I have these dreams of course, really dissipated. Despite
it all, however, some days I really do miss her. I miss being with her. The
face she’d make when she’d try and grab a cheeky snack from behind the cupboard
door, waking up wit her and grabbing a hug, the kiss she’d give me before she left
for work of a morning. And damn it all, I just miss her presence and her calming
influence.
Still hurts.
Today that is all being tempered by the bitter and icy cold
reality that she wanted to divorce me. I think it has taken my subconscious a
long time to really work out what has happened, the near suddenness of it all.
From what I can remember in the dream, I was driving around with her, then I
was in a house alone and feeling so very sad, knowing that she wanted away from
me. Even in dreams, in wonderful beautiful dreams I'm separated from her.
Why? Why did she want away from me? Why did she hurt me like
that? The girl who said sh'd love me and be with me forever and who wasn't going anywhere when I opened up to her about my deep darkest fears and of my depression returning?
I had a low day on Thursday. The warning signs were there
the night before where I just felt, bleugh. As soon as I woke up I had that
familiar, hide away from the world in bed feeling and was tempted to try and
cancel everything that was on that day. I did manage to get out of bed though
and kept to at least 2 out of the 3 appointments I had. So it was a sort of
minor victory. Throughout though, a certain song was playing in my mind and as
it did it brought about certain feelings from when I used to listen to it a lot. It was
NIN’s, ‘Right where it belongs’ and as I listened to it my thoughts were
brought back to the summer of 2012; my insomnia, watching baseball, watching
Adam Curtis documentaries, seeing the night sky slowly morph back into day, the
slow realisation that my divorce was about to become a reality and that my
life, my married life was now gone. All of that was tied up within that one
song.
Sadness and fatigue were prominent
throughout that day and ensured that very little was done. In fact at one point
I had to lie down and just ‘be’. Anything else was too complicated to even
contemplate.
On the plus side, it was the first blip in something like
2/3 weeks. And in that time I have managed to at least sort out and organise my
little space and have got myself to the gym too with some consistency. Before
Xmas and during I’d put on weight and made some attempt to shed that afterwards
when I was up to it. I got rid of a bit but not enough so, now, instead of trying
again to get rid I’m going with it and have instead taken to putting on some muscle
weight. So, nuts to it. At least this way I don’t have to avoid food.
I have also just about passed my first year at Uni’.
Probably scrapped by but hey, it’s done. Now to try and find some sort of part
time employment in the meantime.
My dreams were very unsettling this morning. What made them
worse was the fact that everytime I awoke from them, during a bad bit, I’d go
back to sleep and slip straight back into them again. Any other dream that I
want to get back into no chance! The one I don’t, straight back in! Typical.
They were unsettling as they were centered around my former.
For some reason I was back in our old house back in Warminster. The house was
empty, similar to how the house in Bristol was on that awful last day. For some
reason her father was there also and I was trying to get back in touch with
her, keen to either write to her and find her online. I might have asked her
father for help, I’m not sure. At one point I woke up, my subconscious keen to
awake me from the mounting emotion that I was feeling. I was on the verge of
tears but soon nodded off again to find myself finding her online but seeing
that there was an address with the title, Maternal, over it. Very odd and it
left me wondering if she was pregnant.
I didn't find out either way as I soon
woke up wondering what the blum and flip that was all about. It might have
stemmed from the fact that when I went to see friends and my goddaughter over
the weekend I asked if she had visited which she had. I didn't ask but part of
me was curious to know if she had brought a new partner with her. Maybe that
was on my mind, gestating deep within? One more listen to Alter-Bridge might
have watered it enough to flourish in my mind in the small hours, perhaps? The
odd thing about it all is, even though she is now on my mind I’m not so over-run
with emotion after it that I feel the need to actually follow up what I did in
the dream and try and find or contact her.
I remember not long after the separation some mail for me
had been sent to her new home. She brought it to me during a get together that
sometimes involved both of us.
On the parcel where her address was she’d
actually blanked it out. I think that action set the tone; she wanted no comebacks.
At all. So perhaps that’s why, although feeling a bit sad about it, I’m not
about to follow my dream, as it were, and try and contact her.
Sometimes I miss
her madly but if it does get too much I try and remind myself how she ended it
and her blanking out of her address on that parcel.
As I've started to try and get back into writing and the book what I wrote, I've been listening to the music that I used to play as I created it. One
of the bands, Alter-Bridge I really liked.
I also shared them with my, now,
ex-wife. They are also responsible for a very happy memory shared between me
and her.
After a short lived break up we started to get closer and one
particular moment was when we both went to see Alter-Bridge play Cardiff Uni’
back in mid 2006. We both loved the album and decided to go and see them. The
gig was superb, the support were fab’ and Alter Bridge were fantastic, the
sound, the songs they chose, everything about that night was near perfect. It
brought us closer together and would almost serve as the base from which the
relationship would build and flourish.
The
only trouble is, right here and now, with a divorce now behind me, this is the
first time I've listened to that band and that album since we were together. I
guess I avoided it, subconsciously more than anything. Now listening to it I’m
overcome with happy memories, happy feelings and sad ones. Mostly because I
can’t share that time or these songs with her now. It was something I used to
do back then, listen to songs that would evoke memories of us and therefore
arouse certain feelings. The rub now being, of course, is its power to bring
about opposite feelings, reminders of her, us, the split. Like an aural water
bomb exploding and drenching me in the past, for good or ill.
Something else I
need to try and deal with. I guess it has to be done. If I stop listening to
bands that I liked because she liked them too, well, I won’t have that much to
listen to in the future, eh?
I've been writing this blog for 2 years and have had this lot of depression for 2
and a half years. An anniversary, of sorts. I can almost imagine the
conversation the black could have had with me, could it actually talk...
‘Happy Anniversary! It’s
been ten years since your last big depression! And as a present to remember
those times, have another big lot of depression! Oh yeh, remember when you were
in the middle of it and thinking, well, at least I don’t have a long term
partner to worry about or a job or future to be concerned with? Now you do! Those
fears will also come crashing down around and upon you. And hey, who knows,
maybe they’ll even come true and nearly break you in two?’
And
come true, they did. A wife who thought that the, ‘In sickness and in health’
vow was more a guideline rather than something to commit to. A PT job that was
taken, the house, caring home… I've covered this before but yeh, those fears
did come true.
…the
only interesting thing that ever happens to me is sneezing
And
so, here I am 2 years on. Progressions? The foundation degree is something and
is perhaps a chance at a career while my writing and performing slows to
nothing. I don’t really know what to do with those now. Can I do anything with
them now? I know I write this blog but this is more for me in the absence of a
diary and it’s viewed by what, three people? The trouble is, I feel so unsure
and uncertain about everything now. I can barely sort myself out to even get to
the gym nowadays and my last push at exercise resulted in a near Batman-esque broken
back from which I’m only now just now recovering. I've let my living space deteriorate and myself too and right now I’m back to, ‘Tomorrow is when I’ll
sort it.’
Yeh,
well, tomorrow never comes, as I’ve mentioned before. Getting old now isn’t it?
Hell, the whole illness is getting old. I think it got old the moment I
realised my, then, wife was serious about doing one. I just can’t seem to sort
myself out. Any hopes I have of forming a romantic relationship are quickly
tempered by me either looking at smelling myself or that tiny voice quickly
reminding me what happened the last time I got intimate with someone for a long
time and didn't take too kindly to depression being a part of the relationship
as well. As soon as I browse for partners inner me pipes up…
'Look at the state of you, the state of your
surroundings, books, dvds, clothes left where you discarded them, stubble that
is rapidly growing from 80s style to disheveled down and out and… DEPRESSION!
Remember that?’
And
all the enthusiasm drains away from me.
So, I just don't know anymore.
Perhaps it's best if I just go back to taking it all one day at a time.
I don’t know
where I really stand, liking or not liking, with regards to Ricky Gervais.
I
remember his early stuff on, ‘The 11 0’clock show’ and his solo stuff on that
old cable channel UK Play. Or was it Play UK? Hmmm, anyway, it was generally insulting and not that funny, unless you think calling Alison
Moyet names in a piss-poor Beavis and Butthead style is funny, of course.
Then came,
‘The Office’ which is still a bit hit and miss for me aside from the really
quite brilliant Xmas special which ended the series. (As a side-note, I’ve
really taken to, ‘The US Office’ which is fab’.)
‘Extras’, I
watched as well, due to me being and still being a TV/Film extra so I was curious to see what
his take was on it. It wasn’t anything like being an extra and from watching it
I presumed the idea was more about seeing well known film stars act like their
complete, perceived, opposites, ie, complete gits. However, what really annoyed
me was Gervais’ main character reacting with, 'I
don't want to go out with a psychopath' when offered a chance to go out with
someone who had, ‘clinical depression’. That rankled and still does now.
At
the moment of writing this I was watching, ‘Life’s too Short’, that show with Warwick Davis in it
and it’s the same atmosphere as it seems to be in all of his shows. People
acting like complete gits, saying the worst thing and being put in the
crappiest situation where the reaction is to any and all of the situations by either
saying the rudest thing or to act it out. Watching Warwick Davis in this,
watching his ‘character’ being put through and putting other people through
various uncomfortable situations usually regarding his height, I find it extremely
annoying that he gave Karl Pilkington and others a bad time for similar in
their, ‘Idiot Abroad’ show. Yet, what’s this? Warwick sleeping in a chest of
drawers for laughs.
All
Gervais’ comedy seems to revolve around is the minor shock factor of, ‘Ooh,
look Keith Chegwin’s talking about choking himself out whilst masturbating. ‘Oh
my! Les Dennis is in the nude talking about sex!’ ‘And look, there’s Clive Owen
being an obnoxious tit!’
Saying
nasty things, putting people in crap situations and generally being arseholes.
Hilarious
eh?
And
as for that depression/psychopath crack, all I have to say about that is a
showing of the following. Funny and not spiteful or pandering to people’s
ignorance at all. All from the early days of, now, a true comedy icon.
So, my residential week at University is all done. I enjoyed it and got into a routine and back to some good healthy eating as well. I also tried enjoying my own company as well. A trip to see Captain America: Winter Soldier, at the cinema one day, a meal at a restaurant the next day and window shopping another day. It was the first trip to the flicks since I saw the Avengers film two years ago. It was a nice week, despite the age gap sometimes getting me down but hey, it could've been worse I suppose. "I will speak no more of my feelings beneath" Now, I'm back. Back and sliding towards bad habits, bad comforting habits. Sleeping late, hiding in my bed, under the sheets with either music or the TV for company. I've also had off days. Today is one of them. I feel tired, worn and delicate. I was supposed to be doing something but came up with a lie to not go. I think I'm getting good at it now. Lying. That isn't me boasting, it just is a fact now. What else can I do when I wake up and have that feeling, that empty sometimes cold worn feeling of, 'I can't do it'. I've slowly started to work out who I can and cannot tell about this whole black. Some people just do not want to hear about it. So I lie. I'm becoming unreliable I'm sure. The person who could be counted on to show up to whatever he said he'd do. Not anymore I'm sure. I'm in bed with a hot water bottle. A cup of tea finished, the TV on. I didn't sleep too well which i'm sure is contributing to my general state but even still, not good. Is this what I can look forward to now? A life of good days, off days, bad days and very bad days? I've mentioned before how scary a prospect that is but the more it happens and the more real it actually gets the more terrifying it is. It is the one thing that encourages my suicidal thoughts, that sense of this never ending. The thought that one day in the future, or many days in the future, when I'm engaged in a job I've worked hard for I wake up one day and know it's one of those days I call in sick and become unreliable or worse um-employable. "No-one will expect anything from me" Finishing this first Uni year promised some comfort, it promised me a break and a loosening of some responsibility. I'm not sure if this is good or bad. On the good side if the off days crop up there isn't anyone to lie or make excuses to to cover them up. On the bad, it does leave me with a lack of routine. A lack of routine I'm struggling to re-form. I've missed the gym, I've missed Army reserves. The thought of which really scares me. My confidence for that has gone completely and I'm not sure if it'll ever come back. I don't know what to do anymore.
My military career, reservist not regular, is looking very shaky indeed right now. I haven't been there since the Xmas dine out with my new troop and the more I think about it the harder it is to even consider setting foot in the place. I'm starting to feel like Matt Malone did whenever he'd attempt to walk out of his flat. ('Game On' reference there, a BBC sitcom from the mid-90s). Whenever I think about going there, seeing certain people the nerves kick in big time. I don't know if it's going back to the military discipline or the fact that people will expect something of me or that people will moan at me or question my absence. Maybe it's all of the above that is making me uncomfortable about going back. It's annoying because at certain points throughout a day I may be reminded of my time there. A certain smell may take me back, for instance the scent of diesel will always be tied up with Landrovers and the military for me. Or it might even be seeing a soldier on the TV. I see that and I do have a the odd bit of yearning to go back. But whenever I try and think about it, boom! back I go into young me and all of the nerves and fears that I used to wear like a second skin. Saying that though, it's not like anyone I know there has even got in touch with me to ask how things are? Out of sight out of mind I guess.
Of all the days it has to come knock-knocking on my door. An introduction day, one I had been looking forward to, and I was a no-show. I felt it last night, that cold raw feeling deep within me. It had started early. The voice of doubt wasn't long in speaking up and when it did I knew that the next day would be difficult if not impossible to get to. I don't know what made me feel worse, not going or the feeling that preceded me not going. And if that isn't enough, tomorrow I'm off to Wales for my week long practicals assessments for the ending of the first year of my University course. It couldn't have come at a worse time. Hmm, should be careful what I say there. I'm sure there will be other 'worse' moments to come. There has been before. When it comes crashing down around me like this I feel so disrupted, it's like the past few weeks haven't happened and I'm right back to that bad day at the end of February, panicky, lost, fearful. I have a presentation to construct too and I'm basing it around mental health. I'm trying to decide whether or not to include my own very personal experiences in it as well. I'm so un-sure of everything right now and any glimpse towards my future or even a glance backwards to my past causes me such anxiety. What am I going to do? "Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go So make the best of this test and don't ask why It's not a question but a lesson learned in time"
Right now I am trying to build for the future, my future. I'm nervous, very nervous in attempting it. Mainly because past experiences have taught me that it can go wrong. My attempt at building feels as though it is all being constructed on a foundation of sand. Seemingly solid until a big waves comes along and crumbles it all away until it comes crashing down all around me with a huge bump and a bang that will reverberate in my ears for weeks to follow. This has manifested itself in my trying to get back into competitive football, goalkeeper position to be exact. Now, this hasn't always worked out how I would have liked. My first game in goal, Futsal. Was stressful and I didn't exactly paint myself in any glory what-so-ever. The next game after some coaching went better. I had some tools to use. Last week, not so as anyone who read my last blog entry will know. Last night too started off well and then went down-hill. A couple of errors and it felt like that was it for me after that. Uphill all the way, trying hard to make up for the errors by pulling off save after save. Not so. I think I got one good one and one minor one after that. Getting a whack in the chops didn't help either, (If my writing suddenly goes allmafffaskknff then you'll know pumpkin) I also played 11-a-side last weekend for the first time since '98. Only this time in goal. Again, not brilliant. Learning on the job, as it were, a few positives and mistakes to learn from. It certainly wasn't as bad as I thought it would be though. Prior to the game, I was thinking about it and worrying about it. What would they think of me if I messed up? Would I get shouted at? Sworn at? How would I even perform? So many doubts questions and fears that pushed out any sort of enjoyment I should have got from the game completely. In the second half with the sun and wind behind me I didn't feel a little better. I'd started talking to my back 4 a bit more and despite a couple of errors, I did at least feel a little bit more confident. By the end I felt ok, feeling like I had achieved something by getting there and getting through the whole match. I'm also slowly progressing through my football coaching, putting my name down for various goalkeeping coaching courses. Away from that and back to my old creative endeavors I've also written and sent off a play about suicide. With regards to relationships however, well that isn't happening and that's probably just as well. Last night I had very emotional dreams regarding my black and my ex-wife. I awoke with damp eyes a I spent most of the dreams crying.That was the most prominent feature of my dreams. Being a a highly emotive state throughout and I'm sure she was involved at some level or other. So, as you can see, I'm trying. I guess all I can do is plans and hope for the best, always mindful that if it wants to my black can come and strike me down whenever it wants to. 'Clenched fists, be brave...'
I don't think I'll ever get over my wife, now ex wife, leaving me. Not fully. I'm sure over the years it'll fade but the scar will be forever be there, faded and dull but still there like a little ghostly leech. These last couple of days I have missed her intensely. It came after a couple of defeats, (I'm playing football or rather futsal) and I dearly wanted some comfort, last night and tonite, someone to say, 'Hey, no biggie, it'll be all ok.' Someone to hold, squeeze, and someone to do likewise. Most I got was to squeeze the goalkeeper glove of my key ring. Well it is nice and soft. When I'm in bed, that's when it comes back. Last night it certainly did, last night when it all came crumbling down, like a sandcastle being enveloped by the tide of my own fears gently eating away at its foundations leaving a confused and lost little boy feeling very much alone. Missing her, wondering how I let the relationship escape me, realising those early fears of my depression came true; that she, she could would did leave me. The worst fear that I thought was just a part of my depression had actually come true. The last day or so it has hurt more significantly than it has done in the last few months and I've only just realised why. It's the third anniversary of the marriage on the 26th of this month. Sub-conscious maybe? Sub-conscious memories which might explain the balls to bone feeling of loss that I'm feeling right now? That deep feeling that is the spiritual equivalent of having a nasty illness, say chicken pox, that horrible right through to your bone marrow sickness that makes you feel so so bad. And which is what I'm feeling now. It doesn't help that myself and my father rarely talk. When I came home earlier all I wanted was a simple, 'How did it go? How are you?' Something, anything to show we are family. But no, all I got was, 'Is it raining?' The one time I needed something from him that would show we weren't virtual strangers and are really father and son, not just genetically, but no. Days like These It was a hard defeat in futsal tonite. I'm doing my best but sometimes, damn, you don't know what to do. I guess my deciding to go back into goal, the one position where mistakes and even non-mistakes can be highlighted as mistakes, isn't necessarily the best for my mind right now. It can be a lonely position. Nuts to it. It's what I want, still want. Robert Enke is and was my inspiration to even get back into football. For Enkus. I can learn from my mistakes. I will learn from my mistakes. I only hope I can last.
This month has been relatively stable for me, hence my lack of blog entries. The last week or so there was a bit of a wobble, nothing as bad as that big Wednesday but still when it happens it always makes me a little fretful. Last night and this morning I had very odd dreams. The oddest one being my return to the small town I used to live in with my ex-wife. There was also the potential or opportunity, I'm not sure which I just know there was a sense of something happening, of me and her talking. It left me with a strange feeling upon waking. I was also due to go to participate in some training with regard to speaking out on mental health but feeling a bit rough, I have a cold, and my usual I didn't go. I took the chance to then sleep, which I did and had some more odd dreams which I can barely remember but I know they were.. odd. Today's over-used word will be... The. No, of course not, it's, odd. I was keen to go to the training but what I noticed is that lat night I was slowly getting more up tight about going. Getting to and finding the venue were causing me stress. It was slow but it built up until my chest was starting to feel tight with the anxiety. I don't usually get that bad unless I'm doing something big like going away for a spell. But there it was and it probably contributed to me not going. What have I become? I feel like I' m turning into an individual who I soon won't be able to recognize. Every so often when I look into the mirror the face that gawks back at me, makes me recoil. 'Who are you?!' I ask before quickly flinching away. My anxiety levels are through the roof lately and whenever I try and think of my future it just scares me. Far too many thoughts and far too many fears are taking their toll and I'm not sure how to break free of them. And as for relationships?! Forget that. Who on earth wants to spends time or even a life with someone with this illness? I've already had one leave because of it and I'm not keen to repeat that again.
So, aftermath then. I slept long and when I awoke felt quite groggy. Yesterday was a low point, more due to the fact that it had started off well. I'm confused as to why it descended so quickly and why it led me to me feeling as suicidal as I was. Today I feel better but still a bit tense, I suppose you could say. The trouble with having a suicidal mind is that once you've accepted it and have even started planning it, anything that disrupts those plans makes you almost annoyed. As if you're weak for not following through with your plans. It's like having a nagging friend in the corner of your mind all the time, 'You can't think about buying that shirt, you're going to kill yourself. What's the point of planning to buy that or anything else?' Silly isn't it? My own mind conspiring against me like that. It makes you tired, weary. I have to tell myself, 'Not today eh? Let's leave it for now.' My depression, (I wish this illness had a new name, depression doesn't fit it anymore, especially as it is used to describe a 'gloomy' mood or an off day. The two are all too often interchangeable) is an illness that doesn't really have a big start point, no big emotional experience or background that set it off. I remember reading years ago about how metal illnesses usually start off in one of two ways: A big emotional event, death of a loved one, some traumatic event or childhood experience that sets it off. These are usually quick and short. Slow and steady. nothing in particular sets it off and it sticks around. Which is mine, slow and steady. I could point to various stressful moments over its course through my life but nothing that big. Of course the divorce made it worse but apart from that, there isn't any one thing that started it off. Which makes it harder to accept sometimes. I think, we as humans always look for some sort of reason for conditions and I'm not different. I have some therapy on Friday. I think it's probably about time.
I might as well have them for hands. I can barely cope with anything more than a handful and when I do try I leave behind a mess. Today started off well enough, up early for the gym, brekkie and coffee. An hour later and I was back in bed, feeling everything just collapse inside of me. I'd messaged in and said I'd been throwing up most of the night. Let's face it, it's easier to say something like that than, 'I'm feeling suicidal. Again.' I stuck on some music, Manic Street Preachers and Radiohead, and let myself nod off into an uncomfortable sleep. Vivid dreams followed, one being about suicide. The dreams were for some reason set in the night-time which felt odd and gave it a darker edge too. After that I felt awful, my stomach felt as if I'd ingested a dozen alka-seltzers, fizzy and uncomfortable. Nerves filled me, dread permeated. My phone, when I eventually checked it had messages and missed calls noted. I still haven't checked the messages. I haven't felt this bad for a long time. I've felt off and bad but today is truly the worst. Certain pictures and sounds on the TV felt almost painful to see and hear. If I'd had some sort of decent plan and wasn't so scared I'd be able to well, you know. Nodding off in front of that Ken Burns documentary, 'Civil War' offered some respite but as soon as I awoke it was back to that feeling again. I feel unable to talk about it as well. My mother asked me what was wrong, what set it off? but I felt mute and said nothing. I just can't get the words out. But then it feels easier to say nothing. No more words. For what is the point? It will just be the same ones I've heard and spoken time and time again. I'm frightened of what is to come.
Sometimes I really wish I could go to sleep for a thousand years. Then maybe I could wake up and start again. Shed this life for a new one. It's days like these that make me yearn for a sleep like that. Days which are repeating themselves all too frequently lately. Today has been one of those days and it's been a rubbish one. One which I was all too ready to hide under the sheets, leave the TV on with either Dr Who or football and let things unfold in front of me. Even when I did attempt to try and do something productive like make a meal, that threatened to go badly. The simple act of buttering some bread had me almost explode in rage/burst into tears. Watching it fold up and crumble in my hand still makes me rage when I think about it now. Daft eh? but there you go. That's me at the moment. The feeling inside is one of cold hollowness. What on earth am I going to do? When I try and think of a future it doesn't look good at all. All I can see it me with 'this'. Everything I ever hoped for or wished for is turning into nothing, just a load of high hoping dreams. A life of this is hard to comprehend, no matter how many times I write about it, think about it or live through it. Writing these words makes me angry and I don't know why. My inner rage is giving me a headache.
It now seems to be settling into a pattern. Things get too much and the breaker switch is activated. My nerves get so high that I become more sensitive (over sensitive?) and find the ability to comprehend even the most basic of tasks limited. Tears will flow at the smallest thing and the thoughts of suicide become commonplace once more. This will also be accompanied by a certain song that will soundtrack my demise, almost like a dramatic moment in a TV show with me the sole star. The tune and images will push my emotions ever upward until I can't sift through what is real and what is my my mind magnifying my taste for the over-dramatic. What is fueling what? Me, the depression, the music? Or is it all three? Whatever. All I know is that when things reach an emotional high point I find myself approaching shut-down. If I was apiece of machinery I think I'd have a warning label that would state: Warning! Machinery is prone to shut down at points of high stress. Excerpts from the climax of Oasis' 'champagne supernova' will sound at this action! This hating half of me has won this battle easily... Things were starting to level out a little this last week or so. I had seen an old friend who I found out had depression and gone through a suicide attempt like me so we had a good long chat (over nine hours worth) and that had helped both of us, I think, knowing we could talk to each other about it and that, if things got bad, just by uttering, 'I'm having a bad day', we'd both know what that actually meant as opposed to most who wouldn't know or even care what those words really meant and would take it along the lines of, 'So?! So what you're having a bad day, who doesn't?! Having read back over some course work that was returned back to me with some pretty heavy and damning feedback, I've spun back to my usual. Phonecalls, whether receiving or taken are causing me fits of worry and making decisions, (what to eat? what to eat?!?! Jaffa cakes will do) are nigh on impossible. What I find odd and probably worrying if I wasn't already full up with worry, is that I can almost feel my black fighting its way through the anti-depressants. I was almost numb to the worry but I can feel it overwhelming me and well, I'm not sure I want to fight back. It's tiring and near impossible to push back. 'Chin up', 'Could be worse' and the such like become nothing more than empty hollow slogans when used in the face of this. So what do I do? I don't know. Sit back and let it submerge me and hope I can get through it. Again.
At the moment I'm going through a little blip, too many thoughts and worries are over-loading my head and making me close to shut down. The only respite being thoughts of suicide. It seems like a recent return with a lot of feedback, on an assignment has left me both confused, upset and angry. It has also left me wondering if I can even complete this course with any sort of reasonable grade. It doesn't bear thinking about as I've really put all my proverbial eggs into one cliche laden basket so if this doesn't work I don't know what I can do or even try next. It seems like my ability to cope or to take on any sort of criticism, be it constructive or very destructive is getting smaller and smaller. That isn't good where feedback is of, if not essential, to the things I like and am involved in. Why can't I cope anymore? The person who did a parachute jump, went on stage, could mix with a variety of people from different backgrounds in a room and who could handle a roomful of people and make them laugh with it; little man, what now little man?
The title subject is a song by the Italian songstress, Noemi. I got into her music during my honeymoon to Italy about 4 years ago. It was something both myself and the (then) wife liked so much that we bought the album. We'd initially seen the video for the song on Italian MTV and enjoyed it a lot. Now, however, when I listen to it there is so much emotional thought, memory and feeling tied up that as soon as those first notes register I'm transported right back to our time in Italy and of our general times together in an intense explosion of memories. Songs can work both ways I guess, good memories, bad memories and memories that were good but which you'd rather hide away for the time being as when they are brought to the surface they tend to hurt some. This song though is something that when I used to listen to it it would make me emotional anyway, as, when we were still together, it was my way of going over our honeymoon in Italy and I guess I programmed it into my mind so that now this song will forever be tied up with that time and those memories of us. Never did I think that it'd work against me though. It can't be helped I guess, not now. Memories and experiences will always make some sort of mark, be they good or bad and that's something else I need to try and live with.
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