Glad You Came Back and Wondering Why?

Glad you came back and wondering why? Well if this hasn’t stunk so far of Morrissey level self-loathing or read like a Johnny Cash biography, I might be wondering the same.

So I’ll cut to the chase and the aim. Coping mechanisms stink, at least the ones I’ve been shown. My impatience has ruled out meditation and mindfulness, gong baths sound like some fresh kind of hell. I’m not partial to religion because I want and need to keep control and unhealthy crutches tripped me up. A councillor once suggested JackAss, beer and pizza but I got drunk and burned up my dinner. And a walk on my own to breathe in the sea air sounds appealing, but I’d rather stay home and go back to a game that I’ve completed sixteen times too many.

But I’m damn sure there’s more to explore. And with that said, here’s what I propose…

I’ll keep you updated not just of what’s happening in the murky world we call mental health, but of the little things I think of, that don’t always work, to break up the blues and greys. Some things might will better than others. Some might just be a moment’s reprieve. Some steps might be bigger or less or unimportant, I’m sure they’ll have varying degrees of success. But maybe, through connection, through some honesty and ugly, any sweet-spots we find can get shared. What you say?

How about we call this probation, let’s see how it works, how it lasts. And throughout, interaction is wanted. Tell me you and your methods, you thoughts. Between us we can work out what works.   

So as I ruminate, diarise and ask bluntly, all those words used in the last post that verge on ‘depression’ might build up so we paint our own picture. ‘The Blues’, ‘Grey Patches’, ‘The Swamp’, let’s find out what they mean, if they’re wanted. As these words turn to labels to be claimed or disowned, let’s find out what they mean when they’re lived with.

Be it the chimp on the back or the lint in the pocket that can be carried around, scratched or picked at, is the name that we give it important? Surely it’s not as important as how we recognise and deal with this thing that we can’t seem to kick.

For now, let’s just give the fuck its banana; we may as well acknowledge its presence. And who knows we might even get on.