Coping….

      I am most definitely lacking in motivation of late, there are some personal family issues afoot, the weather has not helped, being mostly grey and damp whilst work has been uninspiring to say the least. I most definitely require a rocket up my arse or at the very least a damn good talking too because if this sloth like countenance of mine continues I know full well that the Black Dog will come sniffing around sensing its chance to get into my head once more.

     Fortunately though I am at least aware of the telltale signs that all is not well within my cranium which thankfully tells me that the Bitch Noir has not yet sunk her teeth into my mind as yet. If she had then I know from bitter experience that I would not comprehend that I was under her control once more and my mental and physical strength would spiral into the depths unchecked and I’ll be bloody well damned if I’m to allow that to happen again, so what to do….

      I think that I have already achieved the first step, and that is realising that I am struggling a bit mentally. Without this realisation then it is easy to perpetuate a downward spiral and recovery becomes so much more difficult. Having realised the danger I now need to motivate myself and get back into the simple regime of eating well and regularly, pushing myself to work consistently and regaining a sensible sleep pattern. Part of the reason why I’m struggling to maintain these simple steps is that my beloved G is down south at the moment for reasons and privacy I shall not discuss here, but suffice to say that I do struggle when my ‘rock’ is absent for some time.

     I do know that by implementing the simple steps I have mentioned it brings a sense of order to my days and I will be able to cope better.  True, it is very difficult when one starts feeling the downward spiral at one’s feet but picking up on the telltale signs is of importance if you are to put a coping mechanism into place. I find that when this happens to me and I realise that my mind is in danger of failing me once more, my first reaction these days is to get angry at myself. Not a savage rage of swearing and lashing out but rather a quiet, simmering anger within myself after realising that I have fallen again. This anger spurs my mind through the encroaching fog and helps me focus on putting one foot in front of the other so the speak. I suppose anger works for me as I am a black n white thinking caveman and it is the rawest of emotions that have the most effect upon me.

     So simple steps it is starting tonight with a relatively early night and the setting of an alarm to ensure I arise at respectable time in the morning. Work tomorrow is uncertain as the weather this evening is grim to say the least but if it is not to be gardening (hedge cutting is on the agenda) then I have two machines, a petrol powered cement mixer and concrete saw, that require my delicate touch (that’ll be the one pound hammer then) plus a couple of other small two stroke machines that need fault diagnosis and suitable parts ordered. 

     So that is basically my early warning coping strategy when the signs are caught in time, basically resetting myself to return to a simple daily routine from which other steps can then be taken. If they hadn’t been recognised in a timely fashion then I would not be writing these words as my mind would have slowly shut out the world around me. Dramatic? No most definitely not, just part of my life living with the Black Dog of depression and always trying to be aware of it sneaking back into my head. Apologies if this post is jumbled or not easily read but it’s just a help at times writing down these thoughts when my mood lowers.

     Oh and the start of regular meals is planned for the morning….bacon, egg, tomato, mushrooms and black pudding oh yes.

John

     

Why do I write? …..

     I have been asking myself this question on and off for some time now. On the surface it appears to be quite a simple question with simple answers perhaps including ….I want to make money, I want to be famous, I want to be popular, I want to change the world and many others answers of a similar ilk. But here’s the rub, I don’t particularly like people and I am seldom affected by their opinions of me, the world (and I mean humankind here) is not going to be changed by a grumpy and rotund caveman scribing a few ill thought out musings upon t’internet, I know damn well that I will never make money from this malarkey and I definitely do not wish to be famous as I’d rather pass through the streets unnoticed and unhindered (I am also of the opinion that folk who actively seek out fame are probably a tad unhinged).

     So this leaves me pondering as why is it that I keep returning to these pages and scribing my thoughts to a distinctly small audience (ahh do I secretly wish for greater acceptance and a huge following?). If it is not for fame, fortune and world domination then why the hell do I write? Perhaps there is a part within me that wishes to connect with others but also wishes to be able to keep them at arms length, maybe there is a inner child that wants to be rewarded and told he’s “a good boy”, maybe I secretly dream of earning wealth beyond measure from the deft strokes of my electronic quill or perhaps there are so many facets to a persons mind that no one answer will be completely satisfactory. 

    When all is said and done I do achieve a certain pleasure writing, I find the act of it enjoyable (well mostly) and usually relaxing. Putting my random thoughts down on electronic papyrus helps to clear and focus a mind that is usually a swirling maelstrom of thoughts and ideas that sometimes stop all my inertia by overloading my brain (yes both cells). I know that my diction is limited and that I will never write a world renowned blog but that is not the point. If my simple words reach and help one troubled soul in this ever demanding and maddening world bringing to them a smile and a moment of peace then hey it’s a win. Writing does bring me a little peace and readings t’others thoughts does the same, even (though rarely) cracking my miserable countenance with the barest resemblance of a smile. 

    So the answer to the question is simple after all, it just simply helps.

John

Autumn….

       Autumn…this is absolutely my favourite time of year. Each season has its own appeal but Autumn, in my opinion is by far the most wonderful and special time of the year. There is something so sensually appealing about Autumn and the way it continually assaults my senses.

     The smell of Autumn is of damp soil, rotting leaves, smoke from garden fires and the intoxicating aroma of stinking hot coffee from my flask that is a staple of my gardening equipment from this time of year until the heat of late spring bans it to the cupboard once more. These scents just flare my nostrils in an attempt to drag all the wonderful aromas of this time of year through my nostrils dragging the cold tinged and crisp air as deeply as possible into my lungs.

     My visions of Autumn are of crisp and clear skies where one feels able to see for miles into distant worlds, the colours of deciduous leaves turning into a tapestry of blazing colour carpeting the ground in an all too temporary  patchwork blanket that you wish you wrap around yourself, of Cock Robin with his bright chest an ever present companion in my eyes peripheral vision, the low sun casting longer shadows through crisp air and of a fire’s dancing flames as they consume wood and branches hewn from the land.

     Autumn touches my body in different ways that are perhaps harder to describe. The textures of plants change giving them a rough feeling on my hands as they retreat into their roots for the winter that lies ahead, there is the heat from fires which is countered by the cold air seesawing as I move back and forth feeding the flames from piles of garden debris, early morning moisture makes everything feel damp and gives the air a coolness against my skin that never truly retreats in the weak Autumn sun and the increasing cold inevitable causes my aging bones to ache a tad more each season reminding my of injuries past and of my own mortality.

     Hearing is the the sense that is perhaps dulled by the onset of Autumn, fallen leaves masking the tread upon the ground, early morning mist (or more often all day mist up in these hills) dampening all sound and wrapping the world in its heavy blanket, few birds sing now but the ever present Robins still bring a smile with their shrill warnings to each other as they compete around me on freshly upturned soil and as the winds increase there is a chatter to the trees as their now bare branches sway in unison and shed their dead limbs to regenerate the soil beneath skeletal canopies. There is also a silence to the gardens as the buzz of insects dies away hopefully only to to return when the air warms again

     Ah and what of the taste of Autumn? I think that many of the scents that Autumn brings on chill winds can also be found touching my tongue, taste such as woodsmoke, the decay of vegetation and there even is a taste to the air itself. But let us be honest for the once, the taste of Autumn for me is of stinking hot coffee, sweet and black from my flask, tis of thick stews full of course cut earthy vegetables and chunky mouthfuls of tender beef or chicken, of thick and warming curries that make the tongue tingle with flavoursome heat, yep all the good heavily calorific food that make one’s arteries scream noooo but taste so good and make coming in from the cold such joy, oh and there is not only the taste of coffee to enjoy but evenings sipping hot toddies of whiskey, sugar (or honey) and boiled water for purely ahem medicinal purposes of course.

    Yes I truly enjoy the assault on my senses that Autumn brings with it, but there is an another feeling that I enjoy at this time of year, tis that of renewal, planning and expectation. I find that most people I talk to think of Autumn as a time of decay and dieback, a time to shun the outside world and hide away until lady Spring unfurls her green dress tails and renewal begins once more. But for me more than ever, Autumn is the time that renewal begins as Mother Nature lays down her foundations for the burst of Spring. There is the trees gift of nutrition from its fallen leaves, the resting of soils ready to support the next years emergence of new growth, of the planning ahead for the warmer season. For me the land is beginning to rest and renew at this time of year and it fills me with an expectation of growth and renewal. There’s also to fact that the shorter daylight hours mean that I can spend more time in my workshop plotting further, bringing more machinery back to life and sipping that stinking hot black and oh so sickly sweet coffee, tis not a bad time of year at all m’thinks.

Till the next time, take care folks,

John