It’s two in the morning and all I want to do is get out, go for a walk, find fresh air.  I want to clear my head, try to make sense of what I am feeling.  But I’m not feeling anything;  I am numb and empty.  And my body is too weak to go anywhere.  I just lie here, hoping that this too will pass.  I don’t even have the strength to hope.  I just lie here and wait.  Sometimes tears escape my eyes then they backfill, stinging.  I have no strength for this pain.  I feel nothing; just suspended in time.  Lonely, disconnected from everything around me.  Some things never change.  I am lost.  I am broken.  And too afraid to feel.  I will be ripped open and there’s already nothing left of me as it is.  I am broken.  I cannot be mended.  And my body has given out, given up.  I don’t know which.  The pains, they never leave me alone.  I grieve.  I have my slumps.  But this feels like some deeper monster about to burst forth.  And I’m scared.  I want to be done with all that.  I am broken enough already.  And if I cry, who will stop the tears for me?  I can’t.  I don’t want to be brave and I have to be if I go outside so I will just lie here with my pain and weep.  I don’t have the strength to fight it or to make sense of it or anything.  There are too many exhaustions.  The night is very dark.  But there will be a morning.  One day.


A Picture Metaphor of Depression


A Colour Image of a Sunshiney Day on a Beach with a Black and White Person - A Visual Metaphor for Depression

I opened up this file and had a strong feeling of how I wanted to process the image.  At the time, I didn’t know why, just that it would be a lot of work and concentration for my shaky fingers and foggy brain.  As I worked away, slowly rubbing away the colour from the figure in the centre of the photo, what this image represented to me became clear.

This is what Depression feels like from the Inside.  The world can be beautiful, full of figurative and physical sunshine and yet you are numb, distant, Outside of all of it.  There is the World and there is You.  You belong neither in the World or even really in You.

Perhaps if you see this picture, either the image above or in real life, it’s easy to see the World and it’s easy to see a Person.  But you on the Outside, do you see how Depression is?

Perhaps you cannot understand how it feels to be miserable, to be numb, to feel completely alienated from the Outside.  You see the sunshine, you see the sand, you see the sea and you feel happy.  Perhaps you cannot understand how it is possible to not feel happiness in such a beautiful place, on such a beautiful day.

I don’t understand either, I have to admit, but this image, to me, represents what Depression feels like, how Depression can look like.  Just as it is hard to recognise or understand the Outside, especially a true or real Outside when you suffer with Depression, perhaps it is also hard to understand the Darkness from the Outside.

Submitted to WordPress’ Daily Prompt:The Outsiders

Dark Night


drop drop

go the tears

in the lonely night

when all are asleep
tick tick

goes the clock

in the pixelated night

clunk clunk

goes the meter

in the clamorous night

no silence, no peace
flash flash

goes a light

in the overwhelming night

nuisance not beacon
my heart aches

my heart breaks

drop drop

drop drop

A Daily Photo


I want to be inspired.  I want to create.

Then life gets in the way.

I decided a couple of weeks ago, when things were momentarily feeling a little brighter, easier, better, that I’d love to do a photo-a-day project.  I love the idea of the challenge and the dedication that it would require.  I love the idea of being prompted, of seeking out creative (aka idiosyncratic) responses, of responding, of making, of sharing.  It’d be a perfect project.

Then life gets in the way.

I managed two days.

But it’s hard to be inspired, it’s hard to be creative; in fact, it’s hard to even lift a camera much less attempt to operate the thing and never mind being creative with the thing.

Life gets in the way.

My head and my heart are often far more active than my body; they want, they aspire, they desire.  But the physical me just lies weakly on the bed, wondering about having the strength to turn over.

Life gets in the way.

There’s so much that I want to be and do.  When the lugubrious grey cloud of Depression lifts, I want to embrace the world and engage with, well, everything.  And all at once, preferably!

Then life gets in the way.

I managed two days.

But on the plus side, I did learn myself some new editing techniques.

Does trying count?  Does wanting to count?

Daily - 080813 - My Favourite Necklace

Daily - 090813 - Pinky Plums from the Garden

Finding Words – Or Trying to


A Word Cloud of How Depression Can Feel

Life is a Seesaw


Looking back, I’m not entirely sure if I ever really enjoyed the seesaw; it was probably the biggest ‘thrill’ ride of the playground (those rusty, heavy roundabouts required a strong and enthusiastic being to go anything faster than a revolving display unit) but I’ve never been one for thrills.  (Or frills, for that matter).  There wasn’t much grace or control to the seesaw, you were dependant on either the steadying force of an adult or the out-of-control competition that spiralled as soon as you were placed opposite your sibling.  What was the point of the seesaw?  To see how high you could go (with a bump)?  Or to see how hard you could hit the ground, or get the other person to (with an even harder bump)?

It seems that balance has long been a theme in my life, or perhaps, more accurately, an issue.  And like being on that seesaw, it can often feel like someone else, something else, but definitely not me, is in control.  Do you hit the ground with a clunk and jar or are you left stranded high in the air?  And are the only choices the one or the other?  Can you balance?

My life often feels like I’m riding that seesaw.  Or is ‘riding’ too active?  Because it doesn’t feel like I’m in control, I’m just sitting on it, unable to get off, getting bumped by one extreme or another.

I hate that.

I’ve been struggling.  I’ve not been as well as I’d have liked.  Then there was a crazy episode of Anxiety with a capital A.  There’s been all sorts of other hiccups and stresses but it doesn’t ever seem to be getting any better.  I want improvement.  I want things to be better.  It’s hard living, surviving, between one crisis and another, getting bumped and jarred, lurching between one disaster and another.

I want to get down.

October’s Me


Pine Cone

I am lost and lonely
I wonder where the future will be
I hear hearts breaking
I see bitter tears
I want peace and comfort
I am lost and lonely

I pretend that everything’s OK
I feel overwhelmed by it all
I touch in a world of darkness
I worry about everything
I cry all the time
I am lost and lonely

I understand that there may be hope
I say it’ll all be OK after all
I dream that it will be
I try to make it through each day
I hope that I can
I am lost and lonely

From a template such as the one here, this was written back in October 2012.

(And can anyone tell me if poetry is fiction or non-fiction please?!)