Life without point

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Waking each day from the hopes of a night’s dreams, the scars of eight hours of terror, a dark period of dark thoughts, or just with nothing, no memories, no emotions and no motivation.

This kinda sums up a stay upon this earth. This third rock at this brief point in its rotations around whatever this star is actually called by those truly in the know. 

Lethargy guides the ability to prioritise, that and brain fog, the forgetting not just what to do but the how to do too.

There is no sparkle of excitement of any future one can envision. The entire meaning of being here beces so much more elusive each day

 I personally tire of hate, of cruelty but mostly of apathy. I crave the ability to change this corruption dying civilisation. If you can call the human members of it civilised. 

The struggle now is to find any excuse to remain, to function, to integrate. A battle physically holding the prospective tools of any planned demise, each time weighing the pro’s of being here against the balancing saving of this worlds resources by being gone.

Every day I really do feel so frustrated that up to now I have chosen to remain, promising myself tomorrow I may become more ruthless with my reckoning.

Let’s be clear, I am still here, it’s not a cry for help, it is simply my explaining how I see myself right now. 

There may be new hope tomorrow, a signpost down a new path. There may not be…..

The huge grey clouds that hide all but the magnolia walls of this, my gaol along with the stark black rusting iron shackles that bind me to the breathing of what counts for air, may yet part, actually showing me streams of light sent to guide me to the promised pasture guaranteed to our children as we hold them for the first time. 

The layers of dust that fill my cell like sand settling after a desert storm, undisturbed by any metaphorical movement within my dulled mind, already devoid of ant true expectation of change. 

Do I feel a tear escape my painful eyes, blurring the view and in its own way giving brief distraction from the guilt held by the adult persona who betrayed the child within so many eons ago.

Do I live in hope? Does hope exist beyond the irony of the Peak village who’s name gives lie to the word?

How will tomorrow be? Will I be forced to wake once more into the landscape of some demons waiting room? To be once more tortured with thought of what may once have been but can no longer be? Or will my courage wear thin, and I use my chosen weapons to end this daily drudgery that is my meagre existence.

 

Foot note

This does not reflect my life all the time, it is a description of how my anxieties, my triggers, my pain, my depression manifests in my being. There are even now days even weeks that this becomes my routine, but I do escape too, and it’s those days of hope that reinforce my right to be here, to be part of this world.

The hope I have to draw upon is through the support of those closest to me, those who understand and see me.

There are no words to describe the darkest of days, this is only a prose touching upon the mixture of angst and nothingness so at odds with each other.

The brighter days this note would seem to have no bearing upon my life, but the thing about any hidden illness is we become skilled at hiding it.

All of us have our perspectives upon things like pain, upset, low mood to suicidal tendency.

Some folk may threaten to take their own lives for effect, but often even if you believe that to be the case you may not realise the turmoil that person lives with  what we believe to be attention  seeking behaviours are more often than not an indicator some war is being waged within that person and we may be completely oblivious to the factors they are trying to cope with. 

I do at times sit with a hand clutching my insulin pens and a bottle of morphine, but each time I find a reason to bat on.  Not yet ready to concede.

This is however not just my story, it is the story of tens of thousands of people in the UK living with chronic health, with grief, with poverty, with so many other triggers of that urge not to be here.

So please don’t be as quick to judge someone, stop with the collusion of press , government and TV producers who will give lie to the struggle people really do face each day. 

It’s hard in a word of cruelty to give kindness and offer support. We are all guilty of ignoring people in need, but maybe the next day you ignore them will be the last. 

Jonesy

@trikerpoet

#depression #grief #loss #anxiety #suicide #chronicillness #chronicpain #disability #TheChildWithin #kindness #cruelty

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Jonesy the Dog of Socialism

I am in my 50's (ok 51), I have life challenges but still continue to be a father, a biker, a socialist and a human being. I fight hate and injustice in any way I can. I am me.

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