Tag Archives: suicide

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

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

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

It isn’t you – 1

Though I hurt again, you should not take the blame

You are faultless this is true my pain exists despite of you

I hurt before you came to me, I hurt before you knew

I hurt for years and years and none of it is because of you

You know my darkness, you’ve heard my pain, and you’ve seen my tears when I’ve been insane

You know my life I’ll say it again… do not feel responsible for my pain

I fill lakes with tears almost every night; I choke on prayers and try to steal the light

I do it for a piece of glee, a concept that is far beyond me

But you still sit in your own darkness every night, thinking that it’s you…. And you are not right.

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Filed under Poems G - I

Constant Pain

My head is swelling up

My ear is getting sore

My head starts to thump

Tinnitus begins to roar

I feel sick and lazy

I feel tired and in pain

This constant pressure in my ear is driving me insane

Every day is different, every day the same

I live in constant variations of suffering and pain

How’s your ailments?  People ask

How’s your breathing I want to say?

But I keep quiet and carry on

Like nothings in my way

One infection, one week

Another in a fortnight

A virus after that’s cleared up

I don’t need some psychic foresight

This is my life

Like it or not

I know you wouldn’t if you were me

Living in a useless way

In pain and suffering

Knock me out I often ask

Throttle me right now

Help me out of this rotten life

Please make a solemn vow

But no one wants to

So I live on

In pain and agony

I am not strong

I have no choice but to suffer this

Each and every day

Be brave others tell me

And I think more about the grave

I have no choice but to be brave I say

I have no choice at all

You think staying at home all day in pain is lovely, like a ball?

Oh if it were only so, but it’s not

I live in pain, my ear is hot

Burning inside, burning out

Making me dizzy, draining from my snout

I can’t have fun or laughter

I can’t have a life at all

For living in pain isn’t lovely

Try a day you fool

I would love nothing better than to do the school run and work

I don’t choose this life you scum bag, you idiot and you twerp

I know I’m angry that is true

But try living in my shoes

I try each day to keep myself sane

To keep my temper calm

But it’s hard to stick with politeness, when others show their qualms

She’s here to infect us again they say

But what I have isn’t contagious

I’ve had it all my life almost

Isn’t it outrageous?

I try to live a normal life

But it’s hard to do it each day

I don’t often go out at all

Not even for play

It is a lonely life I have

It is a sad one too

But I don’t want your sympathy

That’s the worst thing you could do

I just want the pain to stop

And my nose stop running too

I want to live a normal life

And get to know a person or two

I want to do the school run

Get a part time job at Scope

I want to do so many things

I sit and wonder and hope

That someday my life will change

I will find a good doctor

A consultant who knows what is wrong

Someone to cure me of all my ills

Somebody who really feels

For their patients and kind too

Someone who knows what to do

So I can breathe normally

So I can hear just fine

So I don’t live my life in pain anymore

And live the life that’s mine

I want to be free to live my life

Be happy without sickness and pain

I want to recover right now

Because it’s driving me insane

I sit and wish it won’t be long

Before I get to heal

Because if it goes on for much more longer

I, myself shall kill

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under My life, Poems A - C

17th October 2016 – wanderings

Grey stone lay beneath my feet.  My feet are cold and bare as the fog gently surrounds me in the frosty night.  I look on in the patchy darkness, but my vision is obscured by the fog more and more.  I settle myself down upon a rock by the big oak tree and I ponder life and my existence. 

I miss you more and more. 

Your death has made me hollow and changed me in a way that I don’t understand.  People think that I am strange; I certainly have developed strange habits.  I don’t take mourning you easily.

People tell me that as time goes by the loss of you will hurt less, or at least I’d learn to cope.  But at the moment all I can think of is that it was only last week I saw you last, each day that goes on is more and more torture for me to bear, I can’t imagine not seeing you for a month, a year, a decade, half a century or however long I shall live.

Perhaps my new found madness shall kill me?  If not that then the cold will.

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Filed under Wandering In My Mind

Life is stark

Plain and pure

White not black

Light not dark

Life is stark

I cannot wait

For this endless fate

To trip away

Or fade and flay

I cannot keep it this way

I am mortal and I say nay

To pain, to suffering, to hunger and fear

I cannot just tolerate and sit here

I am more than just flesh and blood

For so many years this life I’ve trudged

I cannot wander anymore

I cannot wait to see what’s in store

I need to go

Out of this world

I need release

I need the dream-world

 

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Filed under Poems J - L

Iced Podium

 

I’m freezing in the cold damp grey winter morning
The chilled wind wraps around me like an inescapable cocoon
Will I freeze to death soon?
I’ve lost my mind and I still stand
On the cold wet floor of the prairie lands
I can’t move, I can’t talk
All I do is stand or walk
Lost in the frozen land
I’ve lost my mind
For I’ve lost my hand
How heartbreak makes us numb
I stand dying on an iced podium

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Filed under Poems G - I

I need out of this painful shell

Morbid as it may seem, death to me is a dream

A way out of this painful shell, away from this constant Hell

I cannot make you understand

I cannot see that life is grand

When it’s accompanied by agony, hatefulness and tyranny

You see the end is best for me

As there’s more to pain than you can see

I need to go where I am free

From all this pain and verily, I am ready to go to sleep.

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Filed under Poems G - I

Grey Life

This world is my prison

I sit and wait and stare

I have beautiful dangling prisms

That shimmers in lights glare

 

I watch those pretty crystals

Hanging above my head

I dream of another world

That I’ll go to when I’m dead

 

I see the wonderful flowers

In a sunny meadow bright

I’ll sit under green bowers

Soaking in the sight

 

I can’t wait for death to take me

Away from this bloodshot world

I hope fate has heard my plea

Under this branch I am curled

 

I’ll dream of another life

In another place

I hope it’s a life without strife

Or where I’m seen as a disgrace

 

I can’t abide this morbid world

Not for another day

I am lost in a netherworld

I need to run and play

 

This world is my prison

I am sure of it today

I need to fall into the crystal prisms

And leave this life that’s grey

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Filed under Poems G - I