Morning

The first morning.  Another morning.  Again and again.

Routines of banality.  The lynchpins of life.  Essential, unimportant.

Waking, washing, brushing, feeding, gathering, earning.

Again and again. 

How do they do it?  How do they breathe life into dud repeats?

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Peace of mind

Is it too much to always be in a state of accomplishing?

Should I be always attaining advancing acquiring?

Is it lowering standards or elevated maturity that I pat myself on the back and say ‘well done for preparing food today’

I just can’t tell if I’m falling in love with myself or letting myself down.

The dreamy eyed lover lapping up every moment as the waves ebb and flow over my reflection.

Is that who I am to become to get away with doing nothing?

Coz doing nothing is all I’m good for right now.

Positive vibes…

Sound so mystical, yet so meticulously empiric.

Do stuff. Move. Communicate.

In time, there’s a breakneck rush to the brain of pluses and yaaaays. Smiles implode from every angle.

Negatives are smaller. Problems diminish. Insecurities melt.

But if this is such a simple formula, why oh why can’t I follow it, word for word over and over? Why am I struggling each day with the very fact I have to Be? Why am I still playing hide and seek with my self?

Circles…

I’ve been going round in circles for most of my life. So tedious. Wishing to not exist, trying to deceive myself that I could stop existing.

But the reality always rears its head, reminding me of my realness and my responsibility. Damn painful.

So I acquiesce to social norms like a well groomed youth on his first dinner party, frightened to commit any faux pas.

Get out of bed and live.

Keep on keeping on

Just wanna sink into bland obscurity. Forget I’m not. That’s my deepest wish and desire.

There’s no great answer to this conundrum. Absolutely no solution. It’s a moment by moment decision to keep on joining the dots and willing oneself to the next breath.

That’s just my predicament, my state of being and I think it must be so very boring for others to read but it’s why I write…to just piss out a minutiae of the toxins rushing through my blood stream.

Poisoning mind and body through stasis.

Light…

As a long term sufferer of severe depression and now that I have no job as a zero hour teacher…I can feel utterly undone and just want to sink into my duvet unendingly.

So just getting out feels like a massive milestone.I’m waiting for the medal and praise, the rapturous round of applause as I finally twist the cold door handle and venture out…there is an eerie, anti climactic emptiness awaiting me.

I’m out and boy does it fill you with goodness.

To the humans on my WhatsApp, this is just normal…’just what we do’. ‘Get out while you can’ they keep saying.

Now I’m here and feeling the sun’s warmth on my neck, the blinkingly, blinding light, the wash of blue framing the blossoms and budding trees…natures remedy.

Will it help me tomorrow?…. This is a present for now. I must enjoy it now.

Tomorrow will be another battle. Another battle to see and feel the light.

The monster within

Have you got one? I have. I’m getting to recognise her, meet and greet, even go beyond the niceties, sometimes.

As I spend more time alone, I see her more clearly. Flashbacks of her torment, torment me. It’s just too much. The vivid images of her pushing away tossing, flinging out people, places things fills me with fear. Total fear.

Total recall of anguished tears staining her gorgeous apple shaped -cheeks, formed by a heavenly host. Rivulets of tear tracks have left powdery white marks channeled into viscous pronouncements…

Controlling, manipulating, strangling the freedom of Others. Coercing with a sweet smile and a homemade biscuit. Smothering people in love so that they can all but do as instructed. And when ‘no’ is whimpered by a brave soul, she turns….

That’s who I have been. I have needed My Way and without it I’m a dangerous devil.

Some soothsayers and sages, tell me its the Lack in my life that made the Monster. That I should stop calling her the monster and accept the lost infant child without love, without safety, without security that She is..

I just don’t know if I can love her…however needy and raggedy she looks. I’d give money to a beggar on Tottenham court road station but for Her, I have no change. Never. I’ll stick to hating her.

To be One.

I just cant figure out what’s going on here.

I’m following my instinct and somehow that’s working on some supernatural level that I just cannot figure. I’m getting up everyday and living…I’d go as far to say living well. I’m making the right noises and doing the appropriate actions. But I honestly dont know how. I’m waiting for myself to break but I’m miraculously keeping on going.

I dont know how I’m surviving because I’m single and not freaking out.

I just feel more secure when I have that special somebody. I often ask myself: is it security or just a nice thick blanket between me and myself? When I’m in a relationship I just dont have the chance to really get to know me coz I’m subsumed in chasing, retaining and the all time bummer ‘making it work’.

Commitment to ‘Him’ blocks knowing self-to really getting into my own flesh, blood, arteries, abscesses and oases.

Now, I’m romantically unhinged, there’s no excuse: no one to blame, no distraction to kidnap me from doing what I know I need to.

I do feel sad. I feel loneliness knocking and her beloved sister Depression beckoning me. Motivation is hard to summon and smiles tougher to paint on.

I am utterly petrified of single hood. But somehow, I know that if I sit in this, bathe and immerse myself in it and just keep on acknowledging the grating, silent turmoil ….something Good Will come.