The Blizzard

Being mentally ill isn't a solo show that affects you in a strange vacuum.  We are not islands that float through life without impacting others.  With every action there is a reaction and when we do something it will have an effect on something or someone.

When I cut myself to hurt myself and see myself bleed, it isn't just me that I'm damaging; I damage those I love too.  To stand and look at someone you love bleeding because of self-inflicted wounds is like having been cut yourself.  Although there are no physical wounds, there are mental wounds.

I abhor that I hurt those I love; it makes me sick.

Unfortunately, sometimes I do not think far enough ahead about what my actions may mean to others and how it will disturb and upset them.  Depression can be like walking through a blizzard; each step is perilous and you are blinded by the immediate.  Seeing beyond a few feet is almost impossible and you fail to register anything beyond yourself and battling the storm.  Sometimes the storm passes and you wonder how you managed to get through it unscathed, but sometimes you are punished by the storm and get out the other side battered and bleeding.

I have a wonderful girlfriend who will soothe me mentally and physically after the storm, but I should always be aware that she walks the storm with me and comes out the other side battered too.  If I fail to remember her sacrifice then all I become is self-indulgent and selfish.

Peace. x

Scream

It's like having something scratch at your brain constantly and slowly; the irritation becomes more and more as the hours, days and weeks go by.  The inky darkness slowly envelops your mind, pushing out light and suffocates you.

"How are you?"
"I'm fine," you say whilst your mind is screaming.

It's hard to explain to others how it feels to be consumed by depression.  Most people have 'off days' where things haven't gone right and makes you feel low and annoyed.  It's hard to comprehend though the feeling of everything being out of kilter.  It's the realisation that you aren't in the room and you're slightly floating above your body.  There are many times when I completely zone out and don't hear or see anything going on around me; when I 'come back' it scares me that I was able to go completely blank.

The horrible sensation of being cloaked in darkness is a constant fear and it robs me of liberty.  When I feel good and on the path of healing I worry about when I will next go downhill and self-harm.  It's a vicious circle because when I'm good I worry about when I'm not and when I'm bad and harm myself I then sink deeper into despair for harming myself.

I find I am talking to someone and all I want to do is scream, go home, close the curtains and hide.

I am blessed to have a partner who comforts, consoles and cares for me.  She gently helps me to heal, does not judge and unconditionally loves me.  That is what keeps me going and reminds me that my life is one to be cherished.

Love of Integrity

The constant rain is 'pit-patting' outside the window and it reminds me, my lover, of the ceaseless, life giving love you have for me.  Just as plants yearn for the rain to quench their thirst and they almost stretch out to take in the refreshing moisture, as do I stretch out for your love.  

It's wonderful to know you are in love.  We can deceive ourselves time after time and think we are in love when, in fact, we are simply desperate to be in love and cling on to anyone we can find.  Infatuation, lust, obsession and desire cloud our minds and real love is left languishing.  

Real love is a foundation to build on; real love weathers the storm and stands firm in adversity; real love says no to whimsy but yes to integrity.  So often we walk away because it doesn't fit with the way we think it should be or our selfish preconceptions demand it should be; real love understands sacrifice and that life isn't controlled by an invisible script writer.  The right words don't always come; grandiose acts of love and affection don't always happen; happily ever after takes more than 90 minutes to achieve.  

I may not be the perfect man, I may not always say the right thing, sometimes I will say hurtful things, sometimes I will not be the man I should be, but I will always be the man who loves you.  

Our love has been built on truth, integrity, passion and perseverance.  In you I have found one who knows what struggle is and has a great depth of character.  In you I see a woman whose eyes understand pain, but also understands joy.  In you I see a woman who will passionately fight for what is right and will vehemently fight against what is wrong. 

 In you I have found me.

 

Western War of Terror

"We must deter the Syrian Government from committing such acts again."

Ahmed clutched at his stomach to stop his insides falling out.  Blood soaked his little hands and he cried for his mum to help him, to comfort him.  Being 12 and having his intestines seeping through his fingers was not the way Ahmed saw his day going.  It was going to be a day of playing football and pretending to be Van Persie from Manchester United; it was going to be a day of wearing his new football shirt and trying to be innocent for a day.  The gunfire and mortar sounds had become almost natural background noise; today was going to be a day of being a child, not a scared refugee.

But then he saw the white flash of light and now he was dying with his guts all over the floor.

"Punitive military strikes will target terrorist headquarters."

Asima whispered softly in the ear of her husband, "I love you, it's going to be okay."  She was a nurse so knew how to comfort and console, love and care.  Long ago she had lost sight of who was to blame.  All she could see was men relishing in any reason to spill another man's blood.  Even in her profession she was surprised as to how bloodthirsty men could be and how cruel they were willing to be.  A young lad who lived next door to her had quite calmly slit another man's throat and smiled as the blood splattered across his face.  At that moment she had lost hope in humanity; at that moment she felt mankind didn't deserve such a title.  And now she tried to whisper words of love to her husband, the rebel, whose arm had been blown off and lifeless body grew colder each long and painful minute.

"It is our duty as a nation to intervene."

Tamim loved Friends.  He found the American humour very funny and endearing.  He didn't love America by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly didn't find its policies and ideology abhorrent.  He liked to watch the GOD Channel because it amused him that their version of Jesus was some kind of Holy cash machine.  His prophet was a prophet of peace and humility, not pomp and greed.  But as he watched his village burn to the ground and the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils he felt different.  It started in his stomach and clawed its way through his body, tearing at the peace, love, grace and mercy that he usually lived and breathed.

Like a thick, black tar the hate seeped through his being and he screamed in anguish as if to release it and give it a sound, an identity.  America's long arm had reached his country and wiped out everything he held dear.