Tag Archive: Depression


If I could hug you? I would.

I read your words and wanted to reach out but I can’t. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. Because I’ve always envied you. You’ve always seemed to me to have your shit together. To be strong. I feel like a sinner because I sinned in judging your book by its cover and I should know better than that seeing as I’m usually only hanging on by a couple of threads. I should know better because I’ve perfected my mask for the world so no one sees just how broken I am. So that only a couple of people know I was very close to taking my life earlier this year. I should know better to judge I’m sorry. I’m sorry because its you. And damn reading your words, your posts… it hit me hard. I judged bad. Because I understood every word thats in those posts and I cried for you. Not in a bad way but because I care.

I wanted to ring you, message you or maybe even email you but if I rang? I’d have to talk and I don’t do talking. You might say how’s you? And I’d have to lie and say I’m good and push further into me. Blocking myself off more. You might message something back and then what do I do? Do I reply? If I replied you might ring. If I didn’t reply you might ring. My anxiety building higher as I thought about this a million different ways pushing myself towards a meltdown by over thinking but I can’t help it. I could email you but say what? How do I put it into words that I understand and your not alone and I care and miss you and I’m afraid to and your family and I love you. I can’t. I got stuck in my own anxieties and then got afraid. I failed. So I did what I know… I pulled further inside myself and built another layer around me.

And now I’m here again… Reading again. I want to give you a hug but this stupid touch thing has got so much worse. But at the same time its also weird… there are safe people. I can talk to safe people, maybe hug a couple of them you’re safe because I know your family. Because we spent years growing up together. Because I know you. Because I used to shout at you to get up for school. Because you used to take the piss out of the annoying brat that was me but at the same time? You got it first that I couldn’t cope with the disruption which led to me bawling my eyes out into a tin of dog food. Because you were a know-it-all but I looked up to you and wanted to be as fearless as you were(I’m never going to admit that to you though!). So your a safe person. But I’m still afraid. I’m lucky if I talk to 1 person a month now face to face that doesn’t live in this house. People are scary. Going out of the house is scary. I rarely go out anymore. But you’re safe because its you. Love you masses.x.x.

So here i am… still wondering how or even if I can message you. I guess its more im afraid of you replying. Gosh I’m such an awkward bitch… sigh… I don’t know what to do… in head? We go for a walk where there are no people(because I can’t have another panic attack because I don’t do people). We just walk and random talk but I need to get out my head where I gloss over all the bad. Stupid head… I should go to sleep.

For Jay. Love you and care for you always.x.

Thank you…

Today… This evening… thank you. Thank you for finally making me feel. To you they were just videos of your drive home but not to me. I saw the road signs, the trucks and cars and looked at the licence plates(because as they’re not English they fascinate me). Then the rain came down and I wondered if you remembered how much I absolutely adore rain? How the rain is my favourite weather and always stirs something in me. I flicked back over time over our many many random conversations… the latest again being food. My gosh we talk so much about food… recipes, different styles of cooking, spices, vegetables… sitting here a ghost of a smile pops up at our conversation about steak(which I still say is yucky and I don’t like it). But I’ve moved away from the point.

The whole point is you made me feel. Just for that moment I felt alive. With the hell I’ve been going through, the not feeling. How I’ve accepted this emptiness this devoid of feeling. You made me feel. I felt the rain hitting my skin as you drove your car talking about the rain. I felt those pitter patters rushing down and hitting my skin in sharp icy cold drops. I felt the small sharp sting and how my body shuddered at their touch. I felt the cold rain run in rivulets down me. Soaking my hair and running down my neck my clothes soaked to my skin. The goosebumps rushing along my arms and then across my body at the cold. My teeth chattering as my inner temperature dropped at being pulled so low because of the onslaught of rain beating down like tiny little knives. My hair trying to fight its hardest to curl back into its natural spirals as the rain soaks it pulling it all straight making me look bedraggled. All that from a few videos… You did it. You made me feel….

Its hard to explain it that soft stir inside me as something that slumbers moved just a little, just enough so I know it hasn’t died. Just enough to give me hope. And thats what I need… hope. Such a small word. Only 4 letters long. Such an infinite meaning… hope.

I’m having days and days and days and says of this… this greyness…

..I have wanted to give up more than once. I have been letting my anxieties rule me and have allowed myself to become comfortably numb. This fortified dam I have intricately built around me to cut myself off from everything and everyone. I’ve been so afraid of never feeling again. Of never writing again. I’ve been so afraid that I’ve lost my words forever. Because if I’ve lost them? Then who am I? To write is what I know. To be consistently surrounded by whirlwinds of words, even when I’m in my barren place. Those whirlwinds have always been there mocking and not letting me touch. But since February? They have gone. They left. There have been none. And that has scared me more than not feeling anything. Words, like music, are my blood. But you made me feel. I didn’t say much to the videos but? Here on my blog? Here I’ve written. Here I’m saying thank you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for random videos driving home and foreign license plates and roads and road signs, for trucks, cars, driving on the wrong side of the road, building and grass that usually gives up but instead is green because of rain, super straight roads and traffic lights above your head, endless presets on the radio and when your singing to the songs, the wipers going from slow to fast to keep up and car tail lights glowing in the pouring rain… Thank you for making me feel.

.x.

Rebuilding 1 block at a time…

I crashed last month. Like always? I didn’t see the signs until after. Like always I hid how much I cried, hid that I didn’t want to breathe any more. I planned in detail again just how I’d do it. I’ve got a quick fool proof way. No come backs. No doctor will save me. But its just thoughts. Its what happens when I get that low. I know there’s some name for it. Where you plan it but have no intention to actually do it. I seem to purposely break myself and shatter my own defenses every time I try to build them. Honestly I’m tired of this game. So damn tired. I’m tired of building myself back up and pretending that I’m always ok. I’m tired of always showing the world a smile, and im known for it… that stupid smile. Its there hiding me behind it.

Right now I feel numb. No emotion is hitting me hard enough to get through. I’m just sitting here in my mind slowly building these glass shards up one by one. You’d think by now I’d have cut myself so many times that I’d build with something stronger. But no… I’d rather walk on broken glass apparently…

But you see? This is the thing with depression. It hits us all in different ways. Its sets us apart but in being apart we are together(these are my thoughts remember). It torments us with sweet nothings. Promises of things being better if we just give in and let that dark gray soft depressive cloud envelope us in its warm embrace. But they’re not better. They never are. And yet so many of us give in again and again. Are you tired like me? Because I’m so damn tired of all this.

I want to be better. I want to be like everyone else. I don’t want to have to fight the feeling that my skin is trying to crawl off me every time I’m around people. I dont want to keep being afraid of people and places with lots of them. I dont want outs to my anxiety to be to claw my skin on my arms until I make it bleed(I’m working hard on finding ways to not do this including living in t-shirts no matter the weather because I cant hide it). I’ve often said over the years that I want to be normal. But what’s normal? To the outside world I appear to function fine. So therefore? I must be fine. I must be normal… Please remind me of this next time I’m on the bathroom floor crying so hard I can hardly breathe all while trying to make no sound so no one knows what I’m doing. Remind me of it when my own mind turns against me and drags me down shattering every hope I have, leaves me a broken jaggard mess. Remind me then that I’m normal. Because those times I forget…

So here I am. Back to the now. And I’m here. I’m starting to feel words again so I know I’m coming back. I’m building enough and fighting the numb enough and not just floating in it because floating in numb is easy and since when did I ever take the easy road anyway? I can’t quite catch the words yet to make poems. But I will. I have hope. When I have nothing else inside me? I always find a way to have hope. And sometimes things get so dark in my mind. But still always there is hope. Hope plants seeds. Hope can grow a blade of grass or a mountain…

Look at me here littering this page with my thoughts… I feel I’d have made more sense if I’d just grabbed a tin of alphabet spaghetti and played scrabble with it(now there’s an idea!). But I stick to the promise I made for this page… be open. Honest. Who cares if they think your a fruitloop? You’ve never eaten one so does it matter? The point is I’m real.

I’ve just seen something fluffy walk into the room and meow(well he makes a sound that sounds like “no”), in my direction… I’m going to say hello and touch the uber fluffiness because no one can deny a cat…

Hugs to you all at the end of the wire.x.

Write your own title…



    Well hi!  I’ve been bit quiet lately,so much going on and I’ve not been feeling the words. The kiddos first week back at school was interesting to say the least. They are fab and make me proud with the way they’ve gone straight back at it. The youngest is realising that idont mind her listening to music,it’s the gatcha life in lesson time I draw the line at. She’s been busted twice.
    A lot happened on Friday and although this isn’t going to be a long post, I don’t think it will be anyway, its Friday and what’s happened because of it I’m going to write about…
    Friday afternoon me and the 15 year old had a play tickle fight,loads of laughing and smiling and just fun. But I hurt myself (and yes I’ve found it hilariously funny). I’ve twisted or sprained my knee, well I’ve done something to it! By Saturday it was completely swollen and I couldn’t walk on it, que strapping it up to support it as I cussed and cursed around the kitchen, crawled up the stairs and almost cried crawling back down them, as I went off on one at the washing machine for washing clothes to quickly and the dryer for drying the clothes to quickly. Sunday, Monday, we’re now on Tuesday(20:38 UK time), and I’m still seriously struggling its still swollen, it still hurts, I’m still limping, still can’t completely bend or straighten it. But? Its still funny as fudge!
    Now… the more important bit and the reason I wanted to write and this is incredibly sad. On Friday a girl in my 15 year olds form class committed suicide. Needless to say everyone is still shocked. Sadness doesn’t begin to describe it. One of the popular girls who was kind, sweet, caring and beautiful. The school has offered counselling to all students and to all teachers. The teachers have talked to the pupils as each lesson begins both yesterday and today. I wrote previously that the years 2 of my children are in are exam years, there is so much pressure. And I mean an extreme amount of pressure. Covid has made it so much harder, lessons online is so much harder and our house is lucky that there are enough devices for all 3 youngest to be online doing class work. Everyone is feeling the isolation. For 15 and 17/18(Alevel)Yr olds across the UK? The pressure is immense. A support network is ringing every family to ask how their teenager is, after talking for a few moments I asked if she wanted to talk to the 15yr old who was doing her work near me. I have sat and spoken to my 15 year old a few times about what happened. Her brothers and sisters, us as a family, we stick together and we talk. It is a parents worse nightmare and my heart goes out to her mum.
     My last thought in writing this post is this…
          There are going to be days where you feel so alone. That no one understands,that no one is there for you. You will feel like no one cares and that you’re not worthy of love. There will be days where you can’t see anything other than the bleak greyness that appears to go on forever. There might be times when to not breathe? Seems the better option. When these days happen, when your thoughts are like this? I’m asking you to remember something important…

      You are a candle 🕯
If you went out?
Somebodies path would be in darkness.
You light their path in life
Probably without ever knowing
How bright and well lit
You make their life path.
You are important.
You are not just wanted.
You are needed.
And even if at times
You don’t feel it?
You are loved.x.


So as simple as it sounds?
Please don’t ever forget…
You are a candle 🕯

How are you? No seriously. Its not a trick question. How are you? How are you doing? How are you feeling? How are you coping with the kiddos? With work? With life? With covid? How are you?

I could comment how I’ve been having a bad day. A bad few days. How today I’ve felt to numb to even cry. I could tell you how today was first day back at school for my youngest 3. Google classrooms open all day. I salute you every single teacher who is working on Google classrooms and doing their best. You’ve got this shit! Keep going! Even when the answer was clearly Southwest but you put the 4 four choice answers as Northwest, Northeast, South and East. Its all good. She knew she was right and kept going. You’re only just starting back and the pressure on you is immense. No sarcasm. I do understand.

I could tell you how at 20:00 tonight? Our PM(England. I’m in Lincolnshire), said that exams are not happening and me spending time with my 15 year old (the one that has dyslexia), calming her and letting her know its going to be ok. She’s so worried that this means she’s failed because its not just what the amazing support network of her subject teachers know she can do… its proving it to some random invigilator that yes… I can prove R…….. can do the work because she handed in this, this and this. My daughter is scared. She’s worried how this is going to affect her for college. My 6th former? Hes asleep and I dont have the heart to wake him and make him worry all night. Let him sleep and im going to be there for him tomorrow as we talk and get through it. I’m so so so glad he’s already done Science and got an A*. I could tell you how my year 7(my 11 year old is not learning like we did when we were 11. Nor is she learning how any of her brothers or sisters learnt when they were 11. She’s not learning those socially accepted norms and values that you only seem to learn in Secondary school. But? She’s adapting. She’s trying. She’s got her friends to play and chat with online and over the phone(I knew those free minutes were a good thing!). I had her doing PE today in her PE kit. So not impressed with me but? We’ve decided to do PE together last lesson every Monday and Friday(I’ll be crawling by the end!).

So while I could tell you about all of this? I’m not going to go into any detail. I’m not going to tell you how I’m feeling or my worries about my kiddos, my worry about my kiddo who has kidney problems and how he worries. I’m not gonna say how how I worry about the kiddos dad and his health problems putting him at high risk just like my kiddo with the kidney problems.

You’re probably wondering what I’m thinking about and why I’m writing? So here’s what I’m thinking about and? Why I asked you… How are you? Things are hard. 2020 was a hard year across the world and 2021 wasn’t going to change and be better as soon as we hit January 1st. Be realistic. Things WILL get better. But they’ll take time. So people will lose their jobs and find money even harder(it happened last year,its still happening). Key workers will be over stretched and work ridiculous hours(I was talking to my daughters best friends sister who works in a shop that is twins with a country name(no secret advertising here!), she handed in her notice as she’s so over worked, long story short? Its being sorted and she’s staying). Teachers are having to consistently change things with little notice. People are going to struggle. People’s mental health is going to be affected. Some people with have no one and be completely isolated and alone. Kiddos whether in single digits or double digits will be struggling just like last year…

I know what our house is going through and those few that are close to us? I know what they’re going through. We will get there. Out there at the other end of the wire? Are people who have it 10, 20, or 100 times worse than me and mine. It could be you reading this… so I’m asking… How are you?

Sending all of you at the other end of the wire a massive virtual hug from me.x.

  I fight with you, I listen to you, I give up and give in to you, you smother me to keep me safe so you say…

  I got asked twice on here why it showed I posted a post titled Female muse? No. He’s male and yet it cant be read… its because I made it private. Doubt has eaten such a hole in my thoughts that people/others/whoever would judge me for him. For being open enough to even include a little of our carefully screenshotted chat. For being honest enough to acknowledge that he has been my muse for over 20 years. For opening my mind into the thoughts and definitions of what a muse is and how,though we have never been lovers only friends, he has artistically been my obsession. Doubt won. The only person that knows he is my inspiration is him. No one else. But I started wondering, started thinking… we spoke the day before yesterday. A lengthy conversation. Both through messages and then a voice call, I don’t do voice calls(snapchat, WhatsApp or text me. Dont call me), but I did the brave thing. I did a voice call. I can be brave. I admit I was so nervous and my hands were shaking but? After a few minutes(and the Chamomile tea!), I was good. He has anxiety just like me, has issues not the same but like me, can’t deal with the world just like me. But our difference is that he not only holds an amazing steady job but its in how he has worked his life and kind of compartmentalised and locked off parts.

Anyway… I wrote the post. I thought it would do me good. I thought it would show that look… I’m just like any other weirdly obsessed word junkie… its real this muse thing, his normal conversations, just particular words or the way he laughs… it inspires me. But then? I’m too weird… its wrong isn’t it? Ah… I dont know… some of our conversation is eating at me even now… its messing with my mind to the point the last message between us was? “ok” not capitalised nor a full stop. I now doubt our every word from my endless overthinking and dont want to talk to him or anyone for that matter. Anyone up for a fort building session with pillows and blankets? Ugh… maybe not… so the post has gone. I mean its still there but its private and it glares at me!

Here’s a song for you all…

Jess Glynn “Insecurities.”

My mind is so alive with words right now and I really should write them down. Instead I’m letting my fears, insecurities and doubts eat them one by one. I’m questioning every thought I think. Second guessing myself. I want to give up on words but they just like music, are my blood.

I’ll put the kettle on and make Chamomile tea… I so miss coffee 😭 this caffeine free thing is going to kill me in the end I swear… 😒

Anyway… Take care all of you at the other end of the wire…x.

~…The heartbroken poet…~

Drown me down
just drown me my sweet,
Splinter me into a hundred thousand pieces
so that I may die at your feet,
Take that strong sharp blade
that is made by only you,
Take my heart do as you will
cut it cut my heart all the way through,
Let me drown in the bitter sweet sorrow
that only you my sweet create,
Break me my sweet
smash each and every jagged piece don’t worry this is fate,
Watch as my fingers bleed
picking the pieces from the floor,
But as soon as I have to many my sweet
destroy my emotions once more,
Everytime you make me hurt
you make the words pour free,
It’s like the poet in me needs your push pull
so that I can be me,
But no it is as far from that
as I could ever write,
You are a drug and I but a hopeless addict
clawing the walls of my own mind at night,
Wanting needing with this hunger
an all consuming passion of mine,
And yet but here I am cascading all over this page
suspending this emotion in the cradle of time,
And as time forever ticks forward
this emotional outpouring forever frozen will stay,
And will be nothing but a distant echoing of dust
something blown because it got in the way,
The very memory of my words will become nothing more
than a ghosted dream that caresses you on the breeze,
A fleeting moment that will give you but a nano second of pause
when you alone in thought glance at the trees,
So my dear sweet I hand you my never faulting loyal heart
to use my emotions as you desire,
Break me in a way only you can and allow these emotions to overflow
light but the spark and I will burn in my own fire….

.x.

…Fallen letters, broken words…


    When I first started this blog… wait I cant call it a blog, it isn’t one, its a place to lay me. Its a place to let just some of me out. Its my place, I dont have to be anybody or please anybody. There are precisely 2 email followers that actually know me IRL no one else does, I’ve always wanted it that way… a place for me. A place I can Litter with my emotions. A place I dont have to be strong and confident and whatever other mask I have to wear… here I can break if I want to…  anyway, when I first started this? There was one rule. Be real, be me. So over the years? I’ve grown. I’ve learnt about myself. I have come to terms with the fact I am emotionally damaged, that im never going to be able to fix that. That I have nightmares and beg in my sleep(quite a few witnesses to this), that I sleep walk and sleep talk. I’ve become friends with the demons that reside inside of me, that constantly want to envelope me in the safety of their embrace and pull me so far into the gray that I step off the ledge into the abyss. This IS me.
    Anyway… I never posted yesterday, make up for it with 2 today? Okay one is written completely for someone else and this one for me.  The last few days I’ve been quieter than usual. I feel the storm. I feel the invitation of the envelope of an icy cold hug from my demons. Its so tempting to give in and just step off. But instead here I am writing about it. I’m not ashamed to admit I have depression, ok I’m ashamed to admit its root cause. But if you had the seriously fucked up traumatic childhood I did? You’d be ashamed to. Ugh… sigh… so here I am… trying to let out some of the… hmmm? I dont know what? Just let some of me out. This here? These letters? They can be the tears of frustration im point blank refusing to let my eyes leak. “Crying gets you punished.” “Good girls dont cry. They smile.” Funny how things said to you as a kid stick. Takes a lot for an actual person to make me cry. There’s a few that can do it. But I can be absolutely breaking inside and wishing I wasn’t breathing and all you’d ever see is my smile, all you’ll hear is my happy girly laugh. What’s that word? Eccedentesiast… I should have that tattooed onto my body. Anyone know a tattooist in the UK?!
    I’ve lost half the words I wanted to write on here where my brain has moved on to quickly and I’ve struggled to catch the words. I dont even know where this post is going other than its me spilled across the keyboard and splattering on the screen to run down it. Maybe I should grab a cloth and the bleach?
    I zoned out there looking at the tattoo that goes from my wrist to my inner elbow, I really need one for the other side. At the moment all I have is the idea. The one I’ve got started as an idea and changed into what I wanted by the talented artist that drew it. I’m blabbering… where was I? Hmmmm? I haven’t a clue…
    Are you still here? Gosh! You really are! And there are no poems in sight! You came for the poems and got me instead. Sorry. I dont even have a story 😞 i kinda feel I let you down. Apologies. The music is playing in my ears and I cant tell you any of the songs that have played forthe last hour as my brain has decided to latch its self onto the very first song and stay there…
So now? Heres a song for you…
Dishwalla “Every Little Thing”

🎶…I wish I could be every little thing you wanted, all the time…🎶

I wish I could be
your dream come true,
Conform to whats needed
be everything for you,
But my smile
its painted,
This body mind soul
all tainted,
I refuse to be tamed
far to wild,
Im an ancient soft soul
with the heart of a child,
Dont touch me
I’ll break…

Ahhhhhh…! I give up… words aren’t my friend today… growl…
Is it bed time yet? I’m so tired…x.

~….Will You….~

Will you love me tomorrow

even though I’ve come undone,

Will you love me tonight

past the setting of the sun,

Will you stand here beside me

when the rain lashes down,

Will you be the rock in the ocean

to help me when I drown,

Will you be the reminder

when I forget how to breathe,

Will you be the light

When darkness pulls me underneath,

Will you pull me closer

when I feel so alone,

Will you be here

remind me I’m not on my own….

.x.


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