Time and money

Time and money, two very clear and ever present placebos in modern life? But why? Time is clearly a man made construct handed down over millennia to make sense in layman’s terms of the beginning and end of human life, this has become a marker for “you’re 18, an adult” time to get a job, next you need a house a car a family? Seconds minutes and hours all made by man.

Who dictates colours? Tell me what is green? Trees ,grass, and crayons? Learned behaviour surely? This is base level brainwashing is it not? Lots of questions.

Now let’s talk money………. an i.o.u. A promise to pay for water, food and shelter? Our ancestors are laughing at us now, and their mockery deserves recognition. Each decade spawns new generations that all others despise, evolution of man, woman,non binary,lbgt,trans (apologies if I’ve missed you) humans, have become the micro managers of our own obituaries, we have created poverty and war, wealth and stardom, we are responsible for fucking up our children, burdening them with rules we learned at school, opinions so outdated and archaic we can’t even give an appropriate reason when asked “why” I guess what I’m trying to say is stop for a second (whatever that is) and think about what we have been spoonfed, and what we spoon feed the next generation of people we won’t like.

The black dog

The black dog, the common phrase to accompany depression. The burden of weight that holds you down in the darkest hours, the needy itch that craves attention! The plague of many people struggling to cope with life as we know it?!

Or in this case jude, the black dog that soaks up my emotions and demands constant attention, the boy that wants my food, the child that hates competition! Holy shit! My black dog is real?!

And his name is jude!

The blood, the sweat and the fears.

I’m not sure when it first began, it was sometime after the breakdown of my marriage – something still fresh enough to become part of the darkness but still hazy in my memory, as is all too common with depression it sneaks in without you noticing? Like drinking ice cold gin and tonic on a hot day, you get drunk from the legs up and before you can get a hold on it it’s far too late and you find yourself mumbling something semi sarcastic before heading home without saying goodbye, this is known as “the body swerve” now looking back, this was a huge red flag, the booze. But I’m not here to tell you about drinking, they’re your demons or angels depending on what you require, so… the body swerve became the way to switch off when the conversation got too close for comfort, I found myself using this more and more even when not hammered. It’s actually a lot harder than you think to be pretend pissed to avoid rational answers to hard questions, I believe I could actually be a qualified politician after the skills I’ve gained in avoidance.

My social circle decreased significantly but my book of excuses for missing human contact grew impressively, at a later point I would pride myself on this skill, and if im honest actually comes in handy with work meetings and colleague nights out? (Who knew all of this was expertly preparing me for Covid lockdown?) by the time I felt alone properly, my curtains hadn’t been opened in weeks, my phone was on silent and my door was never answered. I remember thinking after crying during every episode of a master chef marathon maybe there was a problem here? But there couldn’t be could there? I’m a tattooed hairy biker?

Over the next few months I found it hard to connect with society, my new relationship was suffering badly, my girlfriend was frustrated and could clearly see my castle was crumbling, but I just didn’t see it.

Now let me tell you the real story, and the true start to this episode, there were darker forces in play, recreational drug use masked an awful lot of symptoms and heavy drinking took care of the rest, now this is commonly frowned upon especially in cases of suicidal depression, in-fact it’s a common attribute to the diagnosis, I didn’t feel this at all, it was actually a delicious combination of the two that caused me to fail in my first attempt at suicide, yes they had given me the clouding of judgement to act out my demise but also rendered me utterly useless to see it through, I’m a firm believer in fate and karma? Or maybe it was sheer luck? But this is my story and how I failed attempt one.

Before the overdose, I had been shut off from all the world except work, where I was a prolific overachiever, all my focus was on work. The downside to this was I had zero interest in my life, the moment I crept back into this fortress of a flat I was renting, I would sink ever deeper into my own psyche, and yeah it was a very bleak place (if you’ve ever visited Coventry you may have an idea of a starting place for the depth of this) I couldn’t sleep without perfecting the perfect suicide in my head, I would pride myself on this technique and rerun it over and over in my head, to make sure there were no gaps or flaws in my plan, this made me feel invincible! That no matter what else occurred I had that power just waiting to be used! I was the faltering king of my ruined castle, and yet I loved it.

How to survive adult life, and being set on fire.

I got to thinking about education yesterday (how rock and roll for a Sunday)and it occurred to me that my own memories of early learning surely cannot be the mainstream curve? I know the 80s were an odd time for many in the uk but I don’t remember ANY mention of “creating and managing financial books” chequebook balancing? What’s that?

Now here’s where it gets interesting, from watching early westerns with my dad and that childhood destroying scene from The Neverending Story (R.I..P. Atreyu) I really thought quicksand would play a much bigger role in adulthood? I mean everyone knows you’re supposed to lie as flat as you can on the surface, make slow controlled movements and don’t thrash about! How has this information survived In my head? To go along with this, do you remember the Fire service adverts from the same period? No? Let me refresh you, the one with the chip pan fire! Holy crap! Terrifying, then the campaign about “stop,drop and roll” the definitive guide to surviving being set on fire, I’m not sure who was in charge of adverts like these but Jesus! They clearly had a different life experience to the rest of us.

So it kind of led me to the conclusion, if my life had involved more flaming quicksand incidents and less home making and financial balancing I actually think I would be better prepared and ultimately happier in life?

Wow, that took a different path than I initially thought it would,nevertheless I’m fully equipped to deal with the swamp of sadness and if I find atreyu I can explain stop drop and roll to him and tell him it could be worse? He could have an overdue car payment and the charge for missed payments has altered the APR of his agreement!

That Monday feeling.

This week I have the luxury of working “the afternoon shift” bliss! Late bedtimes and late wake ups, no alarms! Yet here I am at 8am nursing a cold and wide awake, more driven people would be planning a morning of productivity, these people are not me. I could probably sleep if there wasn’t the ever present fear that accompanies a blocked nose that I may suffocate if I drop back off! Only one nostril is working now, and I have that nose whistle thing going on,how can I position myself to alleviate this without physically getting out of bed to blow my nose, don’t want to move too suddenly though, that on off bad back I have may show itself again, why is there so much noise coming from outside? Why does it feel like a typical Monday ?

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