Category: Words


So it’s got to that point where it’s been so long, it’s embarrassing.

The multi-pack stack of Cola just can’t be tall enough as you dodge that friend you’ve been meaning to text for months.

penguin fishingThis is me breaking the silence.

And here are two penguins (because I love them).

 

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world-mental-health-dayOctober 10th 2016: a day designated by the World Health Organisation (WHO) as one of those awareness type days where everyone is meant to have their mind jogged about the existence of mental health and the kind of struggles people can have.

I had no intention of writing, but the surge of mental health promotion that hit me when I turned on my laptop was so ‘full frontal’ that I almost feel I have a sort of obligation to this little gathering of mental moaning and metaphor that is my blog.

The public frequently hear the term ‘mental health’ and, despite the best efforts of organisations like WHO and MIND, there are still a variety of stigmas (what’s the plural of stigma? – Clumsy phraseology, I apologise) attached and often, that stigma either shrinks from it, or tuts at it dismissively, cos who hasn’t had a mental health problem nowadays? Who hasn’t seen someone exonerated on the grounds of ‘ mental health’.

Where am I going with this you ask? (I’m not entirely sure myself)

Thing is folks, we all ‘HAVE’ mental health. It’s true!  The term is used imprecisely (a fine one to talk!) because we often use it to refer to a person’s POOR mental health, their mental ILL health, I suppose.

Many people I know think ‘mental health’ is something they don’t have, because it’s Anorexia or Schizophrenia or any of those crazy things.. Actually though, I’d argue that there isn’t this clear line dividing mental health and mental illness.

Mental health is a continuum. It’s a gauge which can be set higher or lower in particular individuals; higher or lower at certain times in each and ever one of us.

I think what I’m saying, in the most convoluted way possible, is that I sometimes sigh and roll my eyes at all these awareness days… I sometimes tire of hearing ardent advocates shouting and waving banners about one thing and another… (I am hanging my head, a contrite cynic – if you’ve ever heard of such a thing!) BUT, this mental health awareness stuff IS something worth stopping and thinking about. It’s worth it because it is something which affects us all, no matter the extent. Mental HEALTH is something we all possess and something we need to nurture in ourselves and in those around us.

Looking after a person’s mental health isn’t something that comes naturally to all of us. Days like today give us the opportunity to have a quick look at ways we can make it possible to reduce the rising percentage of people struggling with mental illness.

https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/campaigns/world-mental-health-day

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Loss – A Reaction

I have an ongoing relationship with Satire. A kind of 'well you can't choose your family' relationship. Which is fine, so long as I keep him to myself and chose not to share his perspective too often. Satire, I've learned, is best applied to matters of a political or sociological nature. Not really appropriate for matters of the heart and soul.
Trouble is, Satire is a quite indiscriminate... I can't shut him up.
And so, as I find myself explaining that I lost my friend last Tuesday, I inwardly cringe at the familiar voice that tells me how VERY careless I must have been, to actually LOSE a friend, in THIS day and age where mobile communication is EVERYWHERE.
Whilst my kin continues to emphasise the absurdity of a whole genre of 'death euphemisms', my listener is looking questioningly at me, poised to offer condolences, dewy eyed as I further explain the tragic circumstances of my friend's death.
And they were tragic. A sudden accident, and the young man who helped me through some really tough years of my life is gone.
Just like that. (I know... I know... I hear Tommy Cooper too)
The news broke over me just like canvas on a tent frame. All in a moment the world was muted and time passed unnoticed.
I stayed in the tent for a few days. The thoughts almost entirely about him and the family he leaves behind. I could hear the noise outside, the people's laughter, other news, frank discussions but none of it seemed relevant.

Sitting there, I think random thoughts.

  • First: how am I supposed to 'be'? - Is my reaction 'normal'? Do my meds keep me numb?
  • Second: How can the world just... carry on? Why doesn't everyone know?
  • Third: My grief isn't allowed because in the wake of the enormous loss his wife and children are facing, my own is so pathetic
  • Fourth: I live some way away. How do I support them? How can I help my god-daughter?
  • Fifth: Sadness and grief are not the same thing. Sadness is only one part of grief
  • How fast death can sweep life away. How precious life is while we have it
It's helpful to make this concrete. Writing it is easier than I thought.
This is the sort of post that might finish with one of those cloying one liners you see stitched on cushions and stencilled on laminate... Vintage schmaltz on distressed furniture.  I'm angry at death for being so cruel. My faith affords me the certainty that my friend is in a FAR better place, and it IS a small comfort. But my heart is definitely a little broken and as always with these things, Satire's hand ensures I go spiky above sorry.

wpid-imag1676_1.jpgA poet like Dickinson has the enviable ability to load a verse with meaning so deep and so heavy you wonder how such simple words can bear the weight.. Her gatherings of commonplace words so often made to shine by their careful ordering, carry a grief so weighty you wonder the words don’t crumble beneath the despair.

This simple little verse almost sags in the middle with the enormity of her existential reflection!

I wanted to put it out there because I think it’s something that every one of needs to have asked and explored. Not in a naval gazing way, more in a back-of-the-mind type of way.

Because I think it’s sometimes good to widen my frame of reference. To briefly place my life on the time / space continuum. It’s sometimes good to feel humbled by the stars. To put my pain and suffering in the context of world history.

And sometimes, it’s good to rethink the areas of my life I can control; and the areas that I can’t. Personally I find it useful to remember that life is short, and wanting control over something doesn’t grant me the right to it. More than that, I know that there are things WITHIN my power, that I need to take control of, rather than deny or disown.

THAT is the hard thing. That’s where Dickinson’s innocent thought is a smack in the face!