Oh Captain

Becoming is the most painful thing we will ever have to endure; aside from the consequence of the lack there of.

Robin Williams was a man I used to have deep elongated fantasies about as a child, I dreamed he was my Father; in nearly every character I saw him as I wished so hard that he (or the personification of him I had imagined) would look at me the way his characters looked at the children/family he loved.
The Birdcage, The Dead Poets society, Mrs Doubtfire, Good Will Hunting, Hook, Patch Adams. In all these movies within my child self stirred the desire to be lead, guided, loved, held safely, defended, understood and taught.
His kind crow footed eyes, cheeky smile and knowing grin never seised to give me hope; not that I would ever have that; but that I had the capacity to be that to others.
He was my ideal of strength; and now he is gone.

It hurts so much to exist, truly exist not just be. Sometimes it seems just so easy to give up, or makes attempts to do as such.

Sometimes we are calling for help,

“Dear gods, sweet friends, generous strangers please help me, because I have not been taught how to help myself; My society tells me to help, to not be a burden, that vulnerability is weakness and I can only express myself through vicious acts of self destruction. Please read my mind, please save me from the interterm oil that my empathy has had me suffer; why am I so fucking alone?”

Sometimes we have just had enough of misunderstanding ourselves

“Fuck it, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I have ever done. I am sorry I can’t be”

How do I know this? Because in darker and quieter times I have done the first a handful of instances; and the later once. The scars that line my body are dwarfed by the magnitude of scars that adorn my spirit.

Although now being who I am, becoming what I have; I wear them with honour and remembrance.
I am a warrior, a guardian of love; This is my pride past the darkness that has on occasion nearly devoured me.
Are these battles we fight from within; demons created by a cracked culture and fed by and of the self; or malignant darkness created by the disillusioned self and fed by the ravenous unquenchable culture. The pendulum swings both ways; whilst we tread water from bellow, swimming in a tumultuous sea; swarming with hungry pharmaceuticals and commercialized dead end solutions.
A helping hand/ear/heart/mind, a kind regard; purpose and hope in the form of progression and community; this is the prescription that may not cure; but subdue the so called mentally unstable; the bi polar; the differently wired folk….. who aren’t as different as it may seem given the populous.

Depression.

Since I hit puberty I have been blessed with out of the box periods of brilliance, met equally with wretched unwavering depression; a nauseating sickness of the heart that feels as if all good purges from life; that everyone and everything that once gave you multicoloured joy now could only be seen in shades of grey.
black and white.

Asking “why are you sad? You have so much to be thankful for” isn’t going to procure some insta-realization; for days, weeks and years we ask ourselves the same question. Which leads to guilt, I must be horrible, ungrateful, unworthy, unloveable if I can’t be happy like I once was, after all “I have so much to be thankful for”
Truth be told though depression isn’t about being thankless, or selfish, its not even about sadness or day to day life; it’s a deeper, lost feeling; the feeling of missing something but not understanding what it is.

There is a deep wood, with gnarled trees, faceless judgmental eyes and unmerciful darkness; it’s depths unknown; especially to the individual of whom created it. That’s where you will find me when I am depressed. A glass eyed empty thousand mile stare; this is the window to the places I hide in my desperation; the desire to be healed guarded by a vicious fleet of poisoned and distorted self defence mechanisms. A padlocked room to which I swallowed the key; I do not want to be seen; I want to be left to wallow in my fear of life….. these are thoughts that consume me in my self deprecated exile; the thoughts I begin to rationalize; I embody both the executer and the damned in these realms.

These battles we fight from within; demons called forth by a cracked culture and fed by -and from- the self; or malignant darkness created by the disillusioned self and fed by the ravenous unquenchable culture. The pendulum swings both ways; whilst we tread water from bellow, swimming in a tumultuous sea; swarming with hungry pharmaceuticals and commercialized dead end solutions.

“You are a very real person in a very fake world; this is why you feel so much pain”
– Unknown

A helping hand
ear
heart
thought;
a kind regard;purpose and faith in the form of progression and community; this is the prescription that may not cure; but subdue the so called mentally unstable; the bi polar; the differently wired folk….. who aren’t as different as it may seem given the populous.

Becoming is the most painful thing we will ever have to endure; aside from the consequence of the lack there of.

“Depression is never an sudden onset – rather with a molasses approach so slow that it tends to sneak up on us; as it “it just suddenly happened”. Depression rather is a process that begins with a denying or refusing to acknowledge painful and difficult feelings; laced with the stigma of weakness we are taught to sink or swim. Depression is usually triggered by a significant trauma; whether self aware or not, or a reoccurring trauma. Of which often leaves us feeling “different”, “Lonely”, “weird” (lets face it If being creative means being “odd” to some extent) or as a whole “UNSEEN”.

Through this we develop defence mechanisms and “walls” that keep us from fully expressing and processing our grief, and as such from fully stepping in to ourselves because we -and our gifts- are not outright held and honoured by a community. Sure there are often spikes of praise and admiration – but those don’t always lead to worthiness and social standing – beyond plastic transient celebrity status. We become terminally independent and gravely reluctant to trust anyone (even those we claim to and desire desperately to trust). ” – Excerpt from “The Sacred Function of the Artist”

Depression, Suicide, Anxiety, the list goes on and on. I wonder, with the mass permission to speak of these things without a knee jerk reaction of instant adhesive, could were learn to love fearlessly our wounding just as we would a beloved? If instead of locking ourselves away in secrecy, what would happen to these traumas if given free range to roam – to transmute into something in service to healing?

You are not safer in your segregation; you’re more susceptible to depression triggered by loneliness and stagnancy.
This flails us back and forth, ping ponging between self important egoism and narcissistic self loathing, our bodies break and our spirits light dampen; we become hollow.
So we are not taught how to be; as such we cannot treat our children, or friends, or lovers how to be.
God damn though we try; and fail; then we hurt along with everyone else. We in unity, in community; are not weaker for needing that connection. We as a stronghold are the epitome of unconditional love; and as such unconquerable.
I know this only because I am appallingly and painfully observant, yet lost too, how could I not be? I live in the same world you do.

My time, my subjective wisdom, my inspiration, my empathy, my joy, my chaos, and most of all my heartbreak: they can be held back but never quelled. Rushing like a mad river of savage humanity once the faulty foundations of societal bullshit crumble
again
and again
and
again.

I do not wish to be alone; yet as we all tumble with, I do not wish to be burdensome.

These wars we fight as singularities; I fight too. Each day I stare in to the nothing place and it threatens to devour me whole. Each day I spit in the face of it’s appetence and whisper softly

“Not today my friend”

It is with a heavy heart that today was the day where our fellow man could no longer fend off the thick black woods embrace; that the battle was lost within his everything; that a dimmed light finally flickered to absolute nothing.
Adieu dear friend and fellow dreamer, fellow soft heart, fellow crude tongued lover of the universe and all it’s laughter; fellow poet; farewell, thank you and where ever you are now I wish you luck.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s