Tag Archives: depression

Just not today

Let the tears come

Let the suffering come

Separation is here

So shed those tears

Love is gone

May the night sometime become day

So maybe I can feel like I want to play

But not today, life has gone sour

Right now is not the right hour

I do want to play

But not today

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Filed under Poems J - L

Writer losing her mojo

We all have heard the saying that “writers write as simple as that” and it is really is as simple as that, but most don’t actually do it as regularly as they should or at least believe they should.  For me, I do not write as much as I believe I should because in the last few years I have lost my mojo, I forgot what it meant for me to write and I have done a lot of soul searching in the past year to find out where the passion has gone.

I did something rare for me – I re-read a book, usually I don’t re-read books unless I put them into a reference category but this particular book I re-read and saw it with fresh eyes and read things I didn’t remember were in the book in the first place.  The name of the book was “Big Magic” written by Elizabeth Gilbert.  When I read this book I asked myself a question; “Why do I think I have lost my love for writing”?  It was a simple answer really upon reflection and I would never have gotten this answer if it wasn’t for this book.  My writing became too focused on financial panic, the urge to write as much as I can so I can earn a living because I needed to break out of debts, but instead, this kind of pressure halted everything about my creative mind and I found I couldn’t do anything other than dramatic self-pitying poetry on mass, the stories and the playtime died, literally.

For the word, nothing has been published except for the things that are published on this blog simply because I didn’t want to approach a publisher with such depressing poetical themes, because I still hold to the idea that I am primarily a fantasy and horror story writer, not a poet!  I am also an essayist I suppose, because I like writing and hoarding information I have learned about my favourite subjects, but I am not sure how to become a paid essay writer and I am not really going to approach that as a career until I learn more about it. 

Anyway – getting back to the main subject of this post.  I forgot how to play – yes, even in real life, I have forgotten how to play and to laugh because of my severe depression, breakdown and financial worries.  I became so down in the dumps about my life that I had two years of being carefully guarded by Paul my fiancé because I couldn’t be left alone for fear I’d commit suicide, seriously.  One point it got so bad, Paul had to go out somewhere without me and he needed to ask a neighbour to sit in with me.  To say I am over that now, would be wrong, the slightest thing brings it back, but I am not as bad as I used to be, the self-harming has stopped a little bit and I am more predictable these days; but ultimately, the depression is still there and I am trying hard to find out how to play again, how to feel happy again and how to enjoy life.  I don’t enjoy anything anymore and it is getting increasingly difficult since the doctor is now looking into what they believe to be a very serious neurological problem, either MS or motor neurone disease, but like always there is a long waiting list here in the UK and I won’t really know what’s going on with me for several months apparently.

So, how does one go about trying to find out how to be happy again and learn to play again?  It turns out according to the book “Big Magic” and a couple of other books I have read recently that it is something most adults get out of practise of, that once you start trying to become playful and do things which are generally playful (even if you don’t feel happy doing it or feel that it is playful) you will eventually trick your mind to becoming playful and you will build up a type of momentum.  Once the momentum is built up, you will start to feel a change – well I hope so.

I thought hard about how I write stories now in comparison to how I wrote them ten years ago, was there any notable differences in how I produced work back then than now?

Yes there was a huge fundamental difference in fact. 

A decade ago I wasn’t afraid to be thought of as eccentric or insane, I would play with my imagination and I would share my thoughts and ideas no matter how obscure and strange they were with people around me and then I would write about those ideas.  I used to have a lot more creative friends too, but many of them have creative careers which have made them too busy to socialise even online, some have died, some have decided that they too have lost their playful side and have become super conservative people.

I have also found that my social circle is smaller these days which is amazing because I used to think my social circle couldn’t get any smaller ten years ago, the people who I do talk to these days are very serious people who have a worried look on their faces whenever anybody talks about anything out of the ordinary, even if you were to explain that you are an artist and a writer so it’s not a mental health problem, it’s just my mind playing with ideas and therefore there is a story in this.  You’d be surprise how people like that can dry up your will to be imaginative or to share your ideas.

Some people who have very little imagination tell me that they wished they had more of an imagination and they start to tinker with my story ideas themselves (which I don’t mind) but then they start demanding that they must change my concept on my fantasy worlds because things are just not plausible and that readers are real people who live in the real world and they want something believable, so they start pulling at the threads of my fantasy infrastructure and start literally pulling my fantasy communities apart by the seams.  It turns out that even my perfect all powerful fantasy God is not infallible, that he has other beings that will cause problems he can’t deal with and that even this God ponders who created him and so forth.  I told the person, you are going too deep here buddy, I don’t want to go that way in my story, but they insist that I must.

I became a fantasy writer because I find the real world too boring and predictable for me to want to think about and write, the idea of making a fantasy based novel plausible, to me, is laughable, because fantasy is supposed to be anything BUT normal. 

To cut myself off from such people will almost completely isolate me again, which I don’t want.  But can I really sit through another conversation where my worlds are being shattered write before my eyes?  I often feel like screaming at the top of my voice “Of course this fantasy God has a creator you dumbass, it is me, I am their goddess, I made them, but I am not egotistical enough to put myself in the book as the all-power”, does any other writer go through this?  Or is this situation totally unique to me?

So I am currently on a journey to find “My tribe” as Elizabeth Gilbert puts it and to find my playful imaginative self again and to have the confidence and focus of not listening to those who are dismantling my worlds and to continue with what I had always planned instead.  Which is a shame because these people used to feed me ideas, used to support me, but these days it is just soul destroying.  I have to ignore the world destroyers.

I wanted to join a writers group, but not sure what is involved with those and I am scared to find more people who are like that, once they’ve heard my stories.  I am trying to forget the people who are making me focus on writing purely for financial reasons and try to focus once again on writing for me, for fun, for release and for pleasure; the way it should be for all writers.

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Filed under About my work

Going deaf to your misery

 

royalty free image from pixabay

DISCLAIMER – 

The below poem is not meant to be offensive – I am personally a sensory impaired member of society, I am very short sighted with astigmatism and I am totally deaf in my right ear with only 35% hearing in my left ear and I could potentially lose that, considering I have auto-immune inner ear disease.  I have only learned to develop a sense of humour with the cards I’ve been dealt with in life, please understand.

 

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of deaf

I shall hear no evil, but see a lot I might

Though I hear not the barks that scold me, I see the awful sight

Evidence of those who hate me are seen everywhere

And they sit back and they think that I really, really care

But yea, the mind is full of ego

And they shall think of themselves

I shall sit in wonderment, why they don’t put the hate on their shelves?

I wonder why every day, why they think of me?

When I have left them long ago, yet they still want to torture me?

Then I realise that those poor dears, they do not have a life

So that is why they taunt me, with curses and poisoned words of strife

They of course have an ego too, that you can be sure

That they sit around every day gossiping of the times of yore

Becoming old and bitter, making their friends think that they are a bore

By choosing to focus on the dead past, the past that makes them sore

And I sit back still amazed, that they have chosen to concentrate

On things about me, each and every day, because poisoned words always finds a way

To go back to the victim

You see that’s the side effects of your conviction

Gossip not and leave the friction

 

 

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Filed under Poems G - I

Fair-Weather Friend

You call me a fair-weather friend, that’s not true

I am here for you

Though times are hard for me too, I don’t like being blue

So often I seem cold to you, but I am always there for you

I don’t always say warm words, I tell home truths too much

I try to bring humour in and it makes me seem out of touch

I sit and listen to your woes and I sit and listen quietly

It doesn’t mean that my “Oks” make me take your problems lightly

I can’t let your problems become mine; I can’t get too involved

I don’t have the energy or the time, especially when your problems are old

I tell you time again, how you can mend your pains

But you just carry on your path and it often drives me insane

So when I don’t call or say too much, think about my life too

Think about how I sit and listen and that I am there for you

How I try not to talk about my own anger and pains

How I listen dutifully when your cries are always the same

How I hear the same thing over and over again

And I’ve not yet gone completely away

Is it fair then to say…

You’re a fair-weathered friend?

Well, Okay!

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Filed under Poems D - F

Life is sometimes…

My life, sore as it may be, is still a blessing to me

There are things I don’t often see, happy things, miracles and a certain ease

I try not to be blind for the things I have

I try not to be ungrateful

I know that life could be much worse, it is sometimes inescapable

But I count my blessings as often as I can

So I can make a stand and say

It isn’t always this way

There are happy days and there are sad

There are good days and there are bad

But one thing that we can always be sure of

Is that life is changeable and we all know this – sort of

So when times are hard and difficult – remember it will also change

That life will lighten up and the suffering will ease and good times you will gain

But remember too that goodness, will also fade away

Be prepared for the bad times, as they sometimes come to play

But live for the moment is the most important of all

Something you don’t learn at school

So when you’re down and thinking silly things

Remember this message and let your heart sing

That times won’t always be bright and gay, but times aren’t always shades of grey

You will someday, find your peace, be happy again and pain will cease

Trust me, all things eventually decrease

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Filed under Poems J - L

You’ve allowed me to imprison you

You must like pain if you still read my poisoned words

Always aimed at you

Always said in truth

Always breaking you, because you allow it

You allow it, because you sit and read

You sit and allow yourself to grieve

At the words I say to you

You are the fool

I am your cruel mistress

Because you allow it, submissive

You read it and I don’t make you

You’ve allowed me to imprison your mind

And I will always own you

As long as you still sit and read, sit and grieve

Even after I’ve disowned you

It’s true

It’s true

You’ve allowed me to imprison – YOU!

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Filed under Poems V - Z

Sweet love sept 2018

I wander

I roam

And nowhere is home

I look around

But I’m still seeking love

Sweet love I need

I looked in your heart

But it is locked up

And I grieve coz I’m alone

I grieve alone

Could you open the door?

I’m alone in fear

I need sweet love

You are the one for me

I can set your heart free

You can rely on me

Sweet love of mine

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Filed under Poems S - U

If you can’t cope then don’t make me

If you can’t cope with life and you enter my life, you will sail in troubled waters

If you can’t swim you’ll sink, perhaps our relationship you should rethink?

I am not going to be easy, when I’ve had a hard life

You’ve got to walk with me, or turn away to your light

I have bright days, good days too, I have than more often than you have a clue

I know I suffer and I shout it loud, but I have overcome things and for that I am proud

I am not disillusioned, I am not speaking lies, I have worked hard to live and to thrive

So when I don’t handle your bullshit, think why should I?  Then you should quit, because if the load is too heavy for you, then you don’t have the right to make me carry it too

I have my own baggage, I don’t want yours

I want a new life, with golden calm warm shores

I don’t want to dig another person’s grave; I don’t want to be your emotional slave

I want a life where things go smooth, where life is lived, not thought through

I want a life where action is key, a life where I am happy and ultimately free

So don’t bring me down because you can’t cope, because you think you know me when in fact you don’t

So don’t sit there and whine and moan, when I am out working things out and leaving you alone

I don’t wallow for long my friend, I work it out, I learn how to mend

So should you

You really should

Because living this way, is very good

Don’t offload your baggage to others if you want to be happy, if you want to live happily, change this habit snappily

It’s in your hands, not some chosen saviours, it’s in your hands and in your behaviours

So learn to ride alone in your emotional rides, learn it now and you will rise

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Filed under Poems G - I

Painkiller for my very soul

I am not wallowing in pity each and everyday

My poems of woes and misery are things that ease the way

It’s a painkiller for my very soul

I need to write, even if it’s dull

It helps to cure the pain

When I write my songs of misery, it may seem like it’s about you

But it is about events that happened long ago, it’s true

You should not sit there thinking, this is one is about me I’m sure

Because then you only open up wounds and make your heart go sore

You don’t know what my poems mean; you don’t know who they are about

So don’t sit there thinking you know what’s going on, when in fact you don’t know my clout

The world in my poems isn’t about you, so stay out

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Filed under Poems P - R

A freedom not suicide poem

You deny me of health

You deny me of wealth

You deny me of friendship and love and games

You deny me of faith, you deny me of hope

You deny me of living and you drive me insane

That’s why I left you

That’s why I am gone

That’s why you won’t see me from hereon

That’s why I rant and that’s why I rave

You denied me of life, the things that I craved

So now I have gone, I will piece things together

I will find my hope, faith, love and more

I will carry on, night and day

And I don’t care if your heart is so sore

For I am through with living for you and I live for you no more!

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Filed under Poems A - C