Life, the Universe and the Melancholic

Sometimes I feel like my soul is separating from my body and that's why I panic.  That sounds bonkers. I know how it sounds. I have often felt like that in the last 18 months. Somehow, I feel like I exist in two dimensions. Overlapped and intersecting each other. Perhaps I have to make a choice of which one I belong in. Or which one feels most like home. Or which one wants me the most.  Maybe I have gone crazy.  I don't know anything about anything anymore. I'm trying so hard to stay. The hardest story to write, is the one of your own life. I don't think I am the one with the pen anymore.

In Disney's 1953 Peter Pan movie, one part of the plot is Captain Hook seeking revenge for Peter Pan cutting off his hand. His hand is eaten by a crocodile who evidently has also eaten a clock. The crocodile, having had a taste of Hook, seeks out to devour the rest of the Captain, with the clock still ticking away inside him. Captain Hook is tortured by incessant tick tocking whenever the crocodile is close by and he descends into abject fear at the sight of the beast. This premise is a good analogy of my experience over the last 12 months. The abject fear of myself and my mind. Evaluating reality from unreality, fact from fiction. And when I would feel out of reality, I would panic. The tick tocking descended to get me. The beast about to devour me.  "I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us."  Time  indeed felt like it was chasing me, like my time was almost up . Now ,  over 12 months on, it all seems so far away. Ye...

I have always been prone to depression. Well I wouldn't have called it that, I just feel sad most of the time. I remember in high school my band teacher said I was prone to melancholy. I quite liked the ring to that, so melancholy and sadness just hung about like a dark cloud. In a way I see beauty in the darkness. I have a journal full of sad poetry, I read it back and it is of weird comfort. My teenage angsty sadness turned into intense adult melancholy as each year progressed. Some of it embarrassing unrequited love. Still some of it embarrassing unrequited love and other things. Always through out it, I just wanted someone to see me, to be able to hold space for it all, to see that much of my existence was spent alone in the dark being sad and that it was okay. Much of the time the intensity of how I experienced the world and expressed it, was too much for many. I was often told directly and indirectly that I was attention seeking, too dependent and clingy, weird and sad. I was...

In March I began writing this post and then gave up. I have become a bit disillusioned by my blog. What exactly is the point of writing random stuff about my life if it just sits here on the internet in stasis?  I wanted to revisit this story in perhaps a way to have a discussion about worth and value and how shame impacts and distorts these important aspects of our lives and sense of self. So back in March this happened... Last month I withdrew money from an ATM. Well I intended to. I remember going to the ATM, putting my card in, pressing buttons to get the amount out that I required and the machine done its thing. Spat out my card and receipt. And away I went. I later went to my purse to count up the cash needed for rent day and realised I was $40 short. "What the heck? Where did $40 go?" And then it dawned on me. I didn't actually remember taking the cash from the ATM. I remember getting my card and the receipt and walking away. I walked away from an ATM that had di...

It has been twelve months since my mind broke. Twelve months since my grip on reality slipped and I was delusional, paranoid, panicking and suicidal. Scarily suicidal. I made a choice to make a phone call instead of walking out of my house and ending my life. It doesn't feel like twelve months, it feels like yesterday and twelves years ago simultaneously. Today I am well. My mental wellness is so much better. I am thankful for being functional, but as I have said in the past you can be functional, but still be unwell. I am beginning to transcend the functional and find myself more thriving. Enjoying moments with my children, my partner. Taking the time to catch my breath in the relentless busy of life. But now that the world has plummeted into a global pandemic, I have been anxious about how I would navigate the change in routine for our family and tackling homeschooling with the children. I am super happy to report that everyone is going great, I am proud of the transition the chi...

My mental health has taken a bit of a dive. I feel unstable, wobbly of the mind. Lately I have been thinking, " I could write a suicide letter on my blog. No one would notice. "  So yeah, not a great thought process to have. Life is a struggle, challenging, relentless. Steam rolling me into the ground, again and again and again. And when I feel like I am clear, far enough to catch my breath, the life steam roller descends and I am squished into the mud of despair once more.  The thing is, I have been functional, doing really well even. As I have recovered the practical support has dried up. I don't expect to be handheld through life forever, but ongoing support, especially from family surely is not too much to ask? It saddens me that people who profess to love me and my partner and our children, only offer support when everything falls apart. Perhaps our lives wouldn't fall apart if offered consistent, practical support. Since I began to function like myself again, I ...

Just over a year ago I posted this interaction on my Facebook status. It popped up in my memories, so I thought I would share here. I wonder how this guy is doing today. I hope he is well. This morning at a bus stop I met a man. He was on his way to a funeral. His 22 year old cousin (if I remember correctly) had passed away from complications of a genetic disorder. A rough way to start the year, with a funeral and I said as much in our conversation. This man then went on to tell me he was surprised to still be alive himself. He went on to tell me that he was a recovering addict, had been in jail, he had very much led a dark turbulent life. He said until he went to rehab he blamed everyone else for his problems and all the hardship life threw his way, he realised in rehab that he was his own problem and it was no one else's fault where he found himself. He also told me he did have a tough childhood, which contributed to where he found himself, but it was his actions that kept him...