It's Simple And It's Complicated.

On those better days, I crawl out from under the duvet and think of those happy times that can be had in that place that lies beyond my front door.
I smarten myself up, put a smile on my face and out I go.  From reluctant recluse, to a man who is recognised, who makes them laugh, who makes them smile.  For those magical moments when I'm out and about, the cashier laughs at my zany humour, the stranger on the street, senses my positive vibes.   And the conversations I have are but fleeting thoughts, as I avoid the awkward questions.   It's all, 'How are you?  What do you think of this British weather and my goodness, put ten pounds in my petrol tank and almost filled it up to empty.'  Yes, the conversations are simple and I dare not go that one step further that may actually see me involved in a meaningful relationship.  For then, the conversation would entail me being asked, 'So what do you do for a living?'
I wonder how I would reply to that, shatter the illusion of me being some sort of local yet mysterious 'celebrity'.  How would I tell them that I no longer work, have little money and had a total breakdown several years ago.  Would they listen long enough to hear me tell them that over eight years of workplace bullying, the wife who got pregnant by another man, took its toll on my esteem.  That, in fact, the friendly guy before them was a scared, vulnerable, fragile shadow of the man he once was.  Would they listen long enough to hear me tell them that I reached out, volunteered tirelessly and with great empathy for a mental health charity, only to have the charity exploit me and with evil irony, reinforce my mental health issues..
Sadly, my fear of being judged, of causing disappointment, has been a stumbling block in my daring to 'impose' myself on society for more than a few hours at a time.  Then again, I might find someone who does not pass judgement, who sees beyond the label and praises me for all I have done, to raise my son on my own, whilst battling with my illness.  With increased awareness, a willingness to try to understand, I may just find that person.
So this man who leads a double life, who types away in the solitude of an empty living room, embraces the hope of a better future.  And tomorrow?   Who knows.   Maybe I might have a conversation that goes beyond the simple and reveals the complicated life I really live.

"D" Is For Depression.

"D" is for depression, disillusionment, dismay, despair, daunting and the feeling of having yourself devalued.  "D" is for the 'duvet or doorway dilemma' I have to challenge everyday.  Indeed, some days, just getting out of bed is a personal triumph.   And today, to be in front of the keyboard, to find the inner resolve to type away, is a profound, uplifting personal triumph.
The "Blogging From A to Z Challenge, April 2012", as much as I attempt to satirise it, has my admiration for those who can take on such a challenge.  For I find many a day very difficult to even publish a posting.  Such is my lack of esteem that I feel unworthy of having what I write be read by anybody.  That is the brutal reality of a mind tormented by the 'inner critic' that constantly tries to undermine the sweet, gentle, soothing voice of my 'inner child'.  A constant battle between negativity and positivity.
There are days I cannot sleep and there are days I do nothing but sleep.  Sleep, sometimes the only freedom that I know.  There are days I cannot eat.   The thought of food repulses me and the effort to even have a piece of toast becomes too much.
Maybe you can relate to what I wrote.  Maybe you think there is no way out of a situation so overwhelming that what's the point in even attempting to make a change in your life for the better.  Then again, maybe you realise that even at the worst of times, there are options that are called positive resources.   And today, as I'm in the dark and foreboding place that drenches my soul with tears of sorrow, this man, this confused, sad and lonely man, reaches out, in one last desperate move, to make some sense of it all.
If your life is immersed in doom and gloom, in negative speculation, come take my virtual hand as we seek the help that puts us back on the road to recovery.   There are Organisations that can help you and most importantly, can empower you.   See your doctor, let your doctor know what you are going through.   Contact your local mental health charity or even become involved, as a stepping stone, in an online mental health community that empathises with those who would rather live with, rather than, suffer from, mental health concerns.
Yes, I'm ill and yet I know that I'm not really alone.  I have to fight my away out of this pit that tries to smother me with the dirt of depression.  I reach up and you pull me out.   Thank you and with that, I present you with a wondrous gift.   The gift of empathy.
"D" is for devotion, dedication, desire and determination.

Duvet or Doorway?

Greetings-

Everyday I have to challenge myself. I battle with my 'inner-chatter'. Opposing forces in my mind. One force says: "go out and face the world", the other tells me to "hide under your duvet".

To open my door and face the world beyond, is in itself, a personal triumph. I know that there will be those that read this that wont understand. For those that do, they will know that my triumph is no exaggeration. I take a deep breath, determined to suppress my negative 'chatter'. Waves of anxiety nearly overwhelm me, I work through it. The negative 'screaming' becomes a background 'whisper'. I go out and the bravado begins.

I try to be sociable, I reach out my hand of friendship but I am scared, so very, very scared. I worry that my sincerity will be treated with suspicion. I worry that I have said the wrong thing. Renewed anxiety kicks in when I believe that my enthusiasm is interpreted as arrogance. My enthusiasm masks the 'bowl of jelly' sensation deep within me. So for the few hours I go out, I confront my social phobia.

When I finally get to know people, when they become familiar with me, sadly, I retreat back into my 'shell'. I 'fade away', drifting back to a self-imposed obscurity. Unfortunately, I start to think: "how dare you try to be friends with anybody. You are not worthy of friendship!" People will, once again, see me for that 'imposter' who is not as clever as he makes out. Oh how I challenge this. I must not let past negative, traumatic events dictate that I retreat to the safety of my duvet. I do want to repeat those times when I stayed in bed for days, too ill, too scared to even contemplate going outside.

So after another day of bravado. I go home, mentally exhausted but pleased, that for a few hours, I had the courage to be a part of society. I stare at the four walls and think how my life is so different within the confines of my home. This is my other world. A world where loneliness dominates. Yet it is also a place where I reflect upon my continued journey in maintaining positivity. I must not give up.

I do not want to fall 'overboard' again. In the past, when I fell off the ship, I was thrown an anchor. Somehow, I just know, that if I do fall overboard again, I will be thrown a lifejacket.