The way I see it

So, here I am. Not knowing if I should share on this platform.  I want not sympathy, just a little understanding. This is so deeply personal. For those who know me well will understand that dark times and depression have been an unwanted companion of mine for many years. Some years and times better than others. For someone who could talk the humps off a camel, I find this incredibly difficult to talk about. Which is maybe why I am writing it instead. It feels less daunting I think. To write instead of say.  When you write something, you feel less vulnerable. I don't get to see the glaze over of the eyes, or awkward looks, change in conversation when the subject of mental health is broached. I have been fighting this for so long, I'm not sure I have any fight left. I'm exhausted. My mind it feels, at least for me, has been raging at some inexplicable speed for most of my life. My brain is beyond the back up generator.  On Sunday 8th December 2019 I hit a wall mentally. I a...

Depression, unfathomable. Descends from the mysterious plains of my mind. There is no apparent reason for it, not today at least. Numbness, ability to apply logic escapes me. I cannot see beyond my closest horizon, the ends of my fingers. Beyond these, it seems lost and desolate. The utter despair envelopes me like the rolling mist on an eery dark lake.  I cannot face even to tidy away mess in the house. Which is odd, as looking at the mess that surrounds me, does nothing to ease my darkness. I just want to weep, but am so numb, I cannot even manage to do this. I'm tired, so very tired, of trying to fight this. The depression and hopelessness is like a taunting bully, hiding in the shadows, prodding and poking when it senses a morsel of normality being felt. Never happy to let me be. I don't want to face the world, I don't want to face people. I want to be alone but don't want to be on my own. The thought of trying to be what people expect me to be petrifies me t...

Well, here I am again, wandering on as a father. It's been a while dear reader, I know. Time passes so quickly, and if I am completely honest, I think I have felt little inspiration to put digit to keypad. Since our last meeting, various events have taken place. As aforementioned, in my last entry, my eldest child, is well into his secondary school journey. He is undoubtedly growing, not only in a physical sense, and, it seems, he has attained a little more height every night during his slumber, crawling from within his pit, a little more vertically imposing on the world, but also, grown in maturity, and swagger! The history behind my first born entrance to day one of his life, was by far an incredibly difficult start. However, with knowledge attained by watching him grow from babe, to an almost 12 year old, the difficult start makes complete sense. That light bulb Eureka moment. He was very poorly when born, despite weighing what seemed at the time, a very healthy 10lbs 12.5oz. It...

 Here I am again, another attempt at making sense of it all. Wondering what it's all about.  I have to be the man of the house. I have to be the strong one. At least in the eyes of my children. My son, who has recently started secondary school, looks up to me. I am constantly at war with myself in an attempt to meet the expectations he has of me as his father. The same has to be said about being the father my daughter needs me to be. Through her five year old eyes, and in her five year old mind, I can do anything. I can fix anything, make things right in this scary sphere we call life. It's at times like that, when she looks up at me with her beautiful big eyes, and skin, silky smooth, unblemished by the ravages of existence, that I wish I had a disclaimer, ready to hand. Something tangible I could give her, to let her know, I don't know it all, I can't fix everything, or always make things right. This, however, I suggest, to me at least, would be the cowar...

I have not written anything for a while. In fact, looking back at my previous post, the last entry was in February.  I started the blog mainly as a platform to be able to detox my mind, to administer self therapy, enable me to find a therapeutic outlet to the daily grind and stresses of life. Previous entries have recalled moments in my life, tales of what has been. What I think makes me, well, me. Well, me, I, am deeply saddened by the atrocities that unfolded in front of the world last night at the Manchester Arena. Another cowardly act, hiding behind the smoke and cloak of a warped sense of what the world should be. I feel I needed to write at least something to acknowledge what took place last night. I did not want to just sit and watch the news unfold, and become numb to the reality of the cruel world in which I find myself resident, without at least putting something down as a recognition, and my own sign of respect to those who have lost their lives. And to those whose ...

It's true you know, no matter how important we think we are, how significant we see ourselves, the world does indeed keep on turning. From the very first dawn of time, to the day you and I came into the world. It was spinning then, and it's spinning now. There is, for me at least, a comforting, consistent, well, consistency about this. Knowing, as much as I am able, that tonight when I retire into the world of sleep, this beautiful mysterious, awe inspiring planet we call home will still be turning. When I awake, bar a intergalactic disaster, it will still be spinning. When I find myself thinking about subjects like this, my mind often wanders. It's as if I regress to a child like state of mind again. I wonder, how many times the planet has spun since the day I was born, since the planet was created even. No doubt I could ask Google for the answer. I find myself deliberating. Does the planet ever get tired of spinning and spinning? Now, of course, there may be some w...

Fatherhood, it's a journey... You know, being a Dad, is, well, mysterious. There are no rule books, At least I don't think there are. I certainly cannot recall being handed one at the hospital following the two occasions of my children's birth. Maybe, however, there was a rule book, but only one. Maybe I missed it when they were giving them out at the anti natal classes? More than likely, I no doubt missed the handing out of this holy grail to fatherhood shortly after my fist born, when I popped out for a quick smoke, under the guise I should imagine of needing to declare the good news to others via text message. I did smoke back then, before I knew any better. Don't get me wrong, of course I knew, deep down within me, that with each drag, my lungs were dying just that little bit more, little alveoli sacks gasping like wheezy asthmatic pensioners. But, I didn't really appreciate or even give second thought to the impact such a habit cou...