Feeling a Little Low?

The ups and downs of depression are often recognisable for those who are already diagnosed. But in the moment of time when you are not diagnosed, the question remains in the head. Is this depression? Am I depressed? What is depression? With the over arching banner – I don’t believe in depression – which in my case was the biggest problem, and quite frankly I still prefer not to believe it exists and scrub it from my mind even though I do at heart know it exists.

Which leads me on to this: Not depressed, just sad, lonely or unhappy

I have found this story interesting. It's about how we are attached to our feelings, the way break downs were handled in the past and what 19th Century people often were diagnosed with Anomie. Anomie is not so often seen today categorised, in my knowledge, all be it I bet you felt it at one time or another or could recognise someone with it quite quickly. Maybe this (Medicalising Melancholy) along with the program later on will spell out some new thoughts, I do hope. It just seems a lot of normal behaviours are being overly medicalised and some medical facts are being normalised these days, for instance ADHD and Asbergers Syndrome.

One thing for sure I always remember a well versed quote from one American TV crime drama. Detective John Munch tries to calm a distressed person down…

“There are five forms of grief, try not to go through them all at once”.

The sarcasm radiates off him, she is not impressed, but it gets the point across and what is (painful) humour to watch is all too real for those involved. Our feelings are important and must be understood. So these days are we comfortably numb?

Silence the Sheep! Walking in a rural idyll of no where special

Walking along the hill tops across the vast expanses of fields,
down on through the hedgerows, scrub and silhouettes of trees either side,
no noise to be heard at all, the air still, the sheep poised all in a line as if about to stage a horse race,
the blue sky spread out in tones of light and dark blue, the Hampshire hills visible across to Membury,
south south west I look, clouds only whisps in places but much heavier in others, deeper and darker small lumps, like someone had decided to place settees next to cushions.

A view that was 80% sky and 20% land, and yet in the shear brightness, with the sun to one side I removed my sunglasses and found that everything was just blue, the 3D depth I could see was only visible with the aid of glasses.

A view, of rolling hills and ‘rural idyll’ countryside, no farmer could be heard but like dots the machinery crossed the fields. The sheep back across the way. The sheep following, knowing, all aligned ready for the boss. But no sheep dog, looking on down at the 30 or 40 of them, they all were moving gradually in line, no one commanding their direction. Suddenly the one on the end saw the displaced group up above on the hillside where they walked in the flatten bed, scared it turned to face them.

All of the sheep on the lower area turned at exactly the same time as the scared one on the end did. Like a domino effect sped up, suddenly all in a line they walked one foot in front of the other head to tail up the hill to the hillside group.

If it wasn’t for the silence no notice would have been taken, but since that was the only activity on real show against the sky, the eerie affect of these sheep all turning in time to this group sent shivers down my back.

Up and over 2 miles later and stuck in the hedgerows again, descending in to the village, the route stopped. No more path, un-trodden for so long impassable for just a wee footman.

Plodding on back the route I’d come, silence no longer, the thrashing machinery of the farmers scouring could be heard rattling across the fields. As I grew nearer to where the sheep had been, none were around, all away. Meanwhile the clouds seen and in depth had moved across five or ten miles, down below the sheep walked in toe of the clouds remaining in their line. No noise could be heard from their direction.

Across the skyline, from the Ridgeway route set into the land over the centuries, the tree line remained visible, marks distinguishing signs of which major formations they were- Hampshire, Downs, Chilterns…

The nearest mark of humans except for the farmers was the Membury radar stack and the transmission booster mast out beyond in the Letcombe direction.

Certainly if you wanted to feel separated from humanity, alone with the world, this would be a starting point. But truly this area remains fictitious, so much for rural idyll. Just a rural fiddle.

A Brief Lull

Picture From Volacci

Lots has been happening the last couple of weeks, what with moving south again, fixing damaged items, finding out my laptop I had for five years decided to finally burn up - or as they say become 'toast'. So I sit here, completely unaffected by the world around me, but I know that wherever I go it will affect me, toast has become a consitutional. Although I think this would not go down well in my grandmother's eyes, her consitutional was sunday service at 8am.

Toast for lunch with more than just butter. Now with a new laptop, of which I'm still getting used to so hope this reads OK, I have planned targets for being employed. I finished my university course two weeks ago and now face not knowing where I'll be but knowing where I want to be.

Its absolutely exhausting to keep writing bits on my blog, so you may find it bwindles in numbers, I may attempt to approach it from a different angle. Write updates and stories along the way rather than placing them in as I go. It might even benefit my style- if you can say I have a style that is!

I called this one A Brief Lull on purpose, 1. employment and what a friend calls 'welcome to the real world' I unfortuantely always was in the real world, university yes can make the real world a little distant, but I was always well attached to the real world. The comment was almost insulting from them. Alas, I haven't seen them in months again. All these little things mounting up that I'm falling behind in. I'm sure they didn't mean it.

Anyway, 2. I'm struggling with words, with education most likely to be behind me in full time academic ways. *long breath* I must keep self motivated, keep my bounce and remember I still have so many 'bubbles' to assess. (My way of saying I'm exploring thoughts, emotions, needs, theories, tasks...) I mustn't get stuck like I did 18 months ago, but at least I have a plan.

So help me look into my crystal ball and tell me, what do you see, because whilst I 'pontificate', your guess is as good as mine.

Weird Tales of a Suffering Mind

A Letter to Dr. Overhill

The nights are drawing in, darkness gathers at 2000, no one can be seen beyond arms reach bar the motorway services with the radio mast blinking to cover aeroplanes. That's 15 miles away. Beyond the skyline sunset draws to a close, little else left but to set light my fire & rest the feet for an early morning start. Very little left in the minds eye, knights of power from beyond come hurtling in, fire breathing dragons with bats move in.

If only you could see what I could see, the flying mythological creatures everyone says don't exist are very real.

I once heard a story of an old man sent to a mental institution because he said he could see the fairies in the back garden. Obviously no one believed him and soon set out to diagnose him. I count myself lucky, creatures that none could imagine exist with me, talk with me, talk to me and even help me. You see once you understand how to talk to animals its ok, they talk back - in surprisingly good english, although when in France, French. I do need to learn foreign languages to talk to the more distant flying animals which come from the southern parts of the world.

Of all the times that seem so real, little is wanton, knowing or understanding.

I see patterns like no other, I can catch, watch and learn patterns when you'll only see randomness. I can make you think I'm an illusion without the need for magic. Whatever you might find, the powers that are, are far greater than this society does acknowledge publicly.

Now tell me, who was it you really wanted to talk to today because this letter is now just a figment of your imagination yes immmaaaggginaatioon. Breathe in & feel free, this letter is all but shreddings in your mind.

Nick

It turned out Nick had started a worrying trend of schizophrenia, for all we tried he couldn't believe that fairies and magic was not real. Maybe we should acknowledge some truth in what he said but that wouldn't help him come back to reality.
Dr. Overhill

It just so happens Dr. Overhill did begin shredding this letter without knowing. Strange how the mind works, or was it Nick after all... lucky a secretary caught Dr Overhill before the damage was started.

Suffering Fools Gladly

Sat down after dinner a conversation strikes up...

Gentleman: You know how it is, I don't work well with people who tell me what to do and neither do I suffer fools gladly. That's why when Dad and I work together it's never easy.
Lady: I don't like that term, I've told you before.
Gentleman: What term?
Lady: "Suffering fools gladly", it suggests that someone is a fool when they could be a really interesting and intelligent person. You shouldn't put people down in those terms.
Gentleman: You knew what I meant.
Lady: That's not the point.
Gentleman: Well I don't want to fall out with you over this problem as well. The fact of the matter is, the model club isn't seeing eye to eye with Dad and you know how bad tempered he can get. He likes to do things his way.
Nick: It's an old peoples thing, they do more talking and less work on those models.
Gentleman: Yeah, that's what Dad was getting at, some of them turn up test there trains on test track don't do any work and go back home to there own project.
Lady: Maybe that's the problem with the club, they all attend as if they are all working on their own project with others helping and don't work as a true team.
Gentleman: Ah, well, we'll see how things are resolved tomorrow. This committee meeting is a load of nonsense. They complaining about stuff that the complainants do too and Dad is Dad, trying to do things his own way.
Lady: He wants to run it his way.
Gentleman: No he doesn't, he gave up being chairman because of all the politics involved in running the place. He is exhibition manager, that's a tough enough job as it is.
Lady: Right, well pudding I think. Dinner's gone down so far alreeaady.
Gentleman: What's for pudding?
Lady: We got the Fudge from the holiday.
Gentleman: (Gets up and walks over) Where is it?
Lady: In the bag marked "Cranchies", one for us and one for Nick.
Gentleman: (Coming back over) Here you go...
Lady: Look at this stuff, it's all glued together.
Nick: Mine's OK, its just got warm and turned in to one block of fudge.
Lady: You see what I mean about accusing people of not doing a proper job, they didn't sort the fudge out to well.
Gentleman: Yeah, how hard can it be to pack fudge properly.
Lady: (Turns in to hysterics and begins laughing) Nick: (looks cringingly down at his bag of fudge attempting to hide the rye smile and remove the thought again, at the sight of his pudding.
Gentleman: You dropped me in that...
Lady: Yeah.
Gentleman: ...the things which make you laugh, such a tiny mind you have to please.
Nick: (Looking at the gentleman) I saw that coming, suffering from fools gladly?

I don't have what it takes. To find a solution, to breathe fresh life into these pages and find a meaning to any of it. That's why no title exists. In the search and conquest to understand, all I find is that even more makes less sense.

I don't write this stuff for me or you, I just write because I need to escape and place my thought bubbles in one location. If I didn't I would go completely mad. The essence of all is to just run and hide. The three F's Fear, Fright and Flight... Fear of never getting there, frightened of doing what needs to be done and flying just to escape and find my own comfort zone.

I don't like being here or being there. I don't actually like being anywhere. All I want to do is hide and carry on like nothing ever changed. But time moves on and the world turns on its axis. I have very little left so what's it to you I should ask.

Are you me, are you you? Should I sit down, stand up or make hay? Do you want tea, coffee, juice or just plain dam water? Would you like to sit and cry? Or laugh a little? Because your confusing me more and more. Tell me what do you want? I'm not Jekyll or Hyde, I'm not Bonnie and Clyde either. But you got to say something to me or else this is game end.

I don't have what it takes, sucking energy out, who comes to replace it? Who should I ask to come and be my undoing? Who should witness my last stand, my last burning amount of energy? Don't look at me, look at the vicar, tell me what is it he said...huh? Did you tell me what he said or did you tell me what you want me to hear? Look at me when I'm talking...

...its hard down here, its harder up there. 5.5bn years I never knew about this world, I dreamed of a previous existence as an elephant. Do you think god will take me or will this universe forget my existence? The ever expanding universe, when will we know whose out there. Maybe we are all already living in the pits of hell. Who knows, maybe you already fear me because I am ready to take you and break you, welcome to my home, my insatiable need for an escape. Pull the rope and let me drop.

If Only I'd... Writers Island Prompt

If only I'd said something sooner I wouldn't have this predicament. Looking back on the year I find myself wondering exactly where it has gone, another 12 months of my life have been taken away. I frequently look back and say if only I had done x, y or z.

Yesterday I drove home, if only I hadn't listened to the radio, if only it hadn't rained at the Birmingham motorway service southbound on the M6. There I was having driven out of Manchester, an hour and half later I sat eating lunch with none other than music from Rent: Seasons of Love on the radio. You can often look back and say if only, but if you don't do something about your thoughts then what's the point on having that grief or happiness as you leave.

I find music often makes whatever emotions I am trying to hide come to the surface and often I find that the music I listen to takes me back to a past time. It's like reliving a memory, but so often in my state; nightmares are unleashed and all I wish for is to forget such memories. But I am forced to remember the pain of the past. Would it be a good thing if a machine really existed to wipe our memories of specific items (re: Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, 2004).

• There I sat eating lunch, the cold weather moving in, the rain increasing everything reminded me of journeys as a child to visit my grandmother in Loughborough. The smell in the air, the horrible clingy cold damp, the road trip, the food.

• I may say if only, but really, all I have to do is talk to you and see those big blue eyes and I can tell...you're looking straight into my soul; pulling out my hidden thoughts. If only I could hide them from you. But you knew; I knew you knew, if only we had said something at the time. Alas, I know its not meant to be...It doesn't matter. Mañana...tomorrows another day for all those if only's. Just for today, take the adventure with me.

If only I had done what it said on the tin,
If only I wasn't such a pain as a child to my parents,
If only I had cashed the cheque in time,
If only the bus wasn't late,
If only I had said something to that girl I met,
If only I had behaved that one day,
If only...if only you...if only I...if only...
It doesn't matter.