I’ve got this sink-ship feeling, I don’t know what to do with myself.
Bluejuice’s song ‘SOS’ has seen me through some tough moments since the first time I heard it, and every time it has it has made me feel better just by singing. Although the lyrics aren’t the most positive:
SOS, send some help, nobody saves you from yourself; SOS, rescue me, I’m not the man I want to be.
There’s something about the tone, melody and pace of the song that despite its somewhat sad, yet relatable, lyrics it works to fix the things it actually talks about. At least it does for me.
I have been feeling down again – and before you start to think I am down all the time, because I suppose sometimes it must seem that way from my blog, just try to remember that a huge part of my writing is for release. Whether it’s to release the pent up emotions in my heart and mind, or the stories bouncing around just ready to be written, it is still a huge release for me.
Writing works for me like stretching a muscle I haven’t used for a little while; it’s a relief and it feels like the weight lessens on my shoulders, my muscles loose some of their tension, and my mind is a little clearer of its jumble. It my writing ever bores or saddens you – don’t read it. I write for myself.
Since Rueben was killed things haven’t improved; I won’t go into all the details since it won’t really make me feel better to rehash everything when I’ve already spoken to people about it, but suffice it to say it was pretty miserable. I will however say that one of those things was the death of my sick, yet beloved Nana.
Anyone who has suffered a loved one’s demise to Dementia will know that there is no cure, no real bright side and no choice but to do all you can to make them comfortable. It is a slow, terminal disease that can turn the strongest minds to colanders and fantasies.
My Nana wasn’t the only person I’d come across with this disease, my grandfather in Tazzie for another, but she was the closest and the most devastating. It happened slowly at first, but increased rapidly the past 12 months since our ill-fated family cruise last September meant to make her happy for a little while. There would be moments when my Nana wouldn’t remember me, or other members of the family, and moments still when her memories of the past would become so blurred and fictionalised it would be beyond anyone to fathom what the truth was when she spoke it.
In the midst of misery, her stories were the best part. My Nana loved Russia and the old stories of the unfortunate Romanov family, so when I was younger we’d say that one day we would go there. Of course we never got the opportunity, everyone thinks they have more time than they do, and when she died she had never seen Russia. But that never stopped her imagination from conjuring some amazing false-truths for her to tell me. Of all her stories the best one she ever told me was that she was a good friend of Tsar Nicholas, and that he had given her a chest of Diamonds which she wanted to share with me. She thought she might have been the missing Grand Duchess Anastasia, but she couldn’t remember well enough. My Nana was born in 1943, 25 years after the Romanov family were executed in Ekaterinburg and since 2008 all 7 bodies have been accounted for.
My Nana was a tough, feisty and occasionally cackly old woman who all of us around her loved dearly until the very last. I’m devastated to have had to see her go, though I am consoled that she won’t be suffering anymore. My Nana was so proud and was happened to her made her so frightened, so frustrated, that I would rather she be free of it then suffering still here with me.
The loss of Nana and Rueben were not the only things that contributed to my melancholy leading up until now, but they were certainly the worst of the lot. I have days when I’m better than others, and days when I feel so low I don’t know what I’m going to do to pick myself up again.
I have friends, more than a few, and all of them are wonderful. If I said ‘I need your help’, I have no doubt that they would come so please don’t think for a moment that I think that I have no one. I feel lonelier than others some days but not because I don’t think I couldn’t surround myself if that is what I felt I needed. That being said my friends aren’t psychic, and unless I tell them I need them I could never be angry or hurt that they don’t come. I know that. And yet sometimes I know that people can’t always hold my hand whether I want them to or not; everyone has their own demons, I am no exception, and sometimes we are the only ones that can fight them off. It’s one thing to call and say I need a hand, it’s another thing to know I very easily could but it’s still something I’ll need to fix myself. This is the latter.
And I’m finding a way; I’m muddling through to construct a better plan of action since the old one didn’t work. This is one step, just writing it out and releasing the pent up feeling of it. Like pouring the contaminated water out of a jug and down the sink.
I’ve been in a rut, brought on by a series of unfortunate events, loss, heartbreak and disillusion, and now it’s time to try a little harder to snap out of it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Melancholia is nothing to scoff at, so I don’t think for a minute that this expose will act like a miracle cure and fix me at once. No, it will take time, conscious effort and baby steps to pick myself up this time. Here’s what I’m thinking:
- Cleaner eating, exercise: I do these a little already, but an increase in clean eating will make me feel better internally and exercise will not only raise my energy levels but tire me out in a far healthier way. Considering I’ve been sleeping badly, a lot of my happiness can be reclaimed by just being better rested.
- Writing: I’m writing here, but it always seems to correlate with times of trial that I don’t write enough. Ironic when writing makes me feel better and more myself, but it becomes harder to keep going when I’m not feeling well. When you’re down, sometimes the hardest things to do are the ones that will be the most important.
- Be more social: I am a very social person, I like people. I spend a lot of time on my own, and mostly by choice, but I love to spend time with people as well. I like to meet new people, connect with current and old friends, and spend time trying new activities. Spending too much time on the couch watching TV or reading is definitely fabulous, but the feeling that life is passing me by just staying there does nothing in the way of improving my mental health.
Now, these are the top three I can achieve immediately. All three of those things can be started today, no exceptions, but there are other things on my list that I haven’t mentioned. Not because I don’t think they’re worth mentioning but because I want to keep them to myself a little longer.
A wise man once said ‘the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results’.
Wallowing, waiting for my life to begin on the couch will keep me down and the way that I’ve been feeling I can’t afford that. I need to change, do something different, shake it up, and I have a plan to do it.