An Ungraspable Phantom

 Well, here we go again... It's been a long time since I consistently wrote anything. I have a few concert programmes under my belt (and a new one to get on with), and a small list of regular recipes I make myself (that again, I really must  add to), but like so many things in my life, I'm simply out of practice. And underconfident! I constantly limit myself with the worst ableist slurs imaginable. Anyway. I'm going to write the things I said I was, and just publish them and then share them and then it's kind of... your problem? There is room for how much I love cooking risotto alongside how much I truly hate every failure I have brought to my own door and the several thousand words I have for videogame franchises. It's all here! And then you can decide how it makes you feel while I flail around. I am constantly inspired by the work of others , so I might try some shorter-form stuff as well as my characteristic information overwhelm. I am in a period of really bruta...

 Almost two years on, I feel like I should bring up a list of things and see where we are... What is this, an appraisal already?! Well, dear reader, I have  rolled the dice on the DM sandal game and have come out rather the better this time (although I should probably have one of those little knives people have for taking stones out of horseshoes, what with the amount of grit I pick up on a daily basis). I've been in a new job, pushing pieces of paper around and making sure those emails hurry along, since September last, and still keep my hand in with some ongoing hospitality work (because actually... I like it?). I think my relationship with singing is it its worst place so far really, especially miserable after what should be some totally unmitigated triumphs (new teacher, doing my first Messiah as soloist with a real orchestra) but being faced by the fact that I might just... not be consistently good enough ? Maybe this is as good as it's ever going to get and I'm strugg...

 Well well well... Here we are. ~?~ I suppose it's welcome back to me ? Gosh, I haven't written a blog for almost three years. Given that I've done more actual professional writing than ever this past year, why haven't I written more? For myself? For me? Of course, the number one reason is just depression. Personal, geographical, financial, professional... It's all been a hell of a time. And of course, it's Christmas. Gosh, how I hate this. The thing is though... I want to write. I want to do something . In a way, writing online has always been part of my battle with depression. For years I wrote to stay alive, really, to turn away from the very worst of self-destruction and... It worked! But things change. Life changes, as all things must, and the ground shifts and then the familiar coping strategies no longer work and new ones must come in their place, but what happens when you can't come up with management quickly enough? And that's why I'm coming...

New year, new me. Did you know, it's actually an anagram of " Y we renew men "?  Amazing.  The more you know. What the hell am I doing, kicking this hornets' nest again?  Well, you know... I need to do something .  Not long before all this new year fervour returns to the usual omni-seasonal depression, where drinking replaces progress because drinking pints isn't frightening but growth is.  Because failure terrifies me.  Because saying what's going on isn't worth the effort; not only is explanation necessary , but also laughed off as I "must only be joking" and it's not worth taking seriously.  (Perhaps my mistake on that one, how foolish of me to consider that I matter.). "I know.  Same as it ever was." So what are we to do?  Oh, I don't know.  Funnily enough I saw something on Twitter that spoke to me with an enormous volume, that making your goals public means you are far less likely to complete them.  I get that.  ...

Long time no see, eh?  Let's recap. It has been seven months and fifteen days since my last post.  Forgive me, for I have lapsed.  In the intervening age, both much and nothing has happened.  Nothing, inasmuch as I am still here, still working a desk job, still singing in choir... Although I broke up with my girlfriend for a bit!  That was something. Last time I spoke about my depression towards my career.  If anything, with the roll round of the new year and the realisation that unless I can care about myself then nobody else will, I am probably in the worst position ever regarding myself and my abilities, confidence and prospects.  I I don't feel like I can rely on anyone above me to support me or provide opportunities (or even point me in a direction), let alone on myself, having spent the last two decades basically telling myself how bad I am only to have that message amplified throughout my years at University and even here, now, in my current...

"I only know one truth; it's time for the singing to end" - Luke Skywalker, The Last Jedi Teaser Trailer, 2017 I mean, I'm pretty sure that's what he said.  I might have paraphrased him, I'm not entirely sure. ~ Another week, another draft of the resignation letter.  I often joke that if I ever wrote a suicide note, it would take so long to detail all the crimes I feel have been perpetrated against me that I would eventually become so engrossed in writing it that I would lose interest in killing myself!  VERY FUNNY EH?!  Yes, potentially very triggering as well, I know, my history of suicidal depression notwithstanding.   But this is an idea I keep toying with, something that keeps coming back (y'know, it's like poetry; it rhymes) time and again.  Do I actually want to stop singing?  Is it really time for the nuclear option?  I've felt bad about singing for years and to be honest, not much has gotten better.  I work a desk...

So here we are, all over again.  I get the feeling I keep saying the same things on an endless repeat. Actually, it feels worse this time.  Yeah,  I think it's worse than before.  Definitely.  But then again, I'm being more open about things, so...?  Huh.  Perhaps not.  Maybe I feel like I'm using communication about my mental state as a sort of emotional battering ram (or is that just my own sense of guilt that I should ultimately jettison before someone other than me uses it against me?), but the gain in momentum of the extremity of such statements is worrying, I suppose. As previously discussed in all shapes and forms of my writing at almost all times, I am struggling.  I mean, I am constantly struggling!  Just sometimes I'm more aware of it than not, and this is one of those times.  I don't think I've hit rock bottom entirely, but I there's a gathering sense of density, almost, as if I'm about to collide with something very ...

Hello, I'm... Well.  I have a problem. There's something about this that feels it's been a long time coming.  I have lots of problems, like everyone else, little tiny problems that happen every day.  But I have much bigger problems as well, including some that potentially could ruin kind of everything (how dramatic, I know) that I've worked at and worked on for so long, shutting potential down and pushing further into a self-made yet ever-fresh hell.  Even typing now feels almost redundant, that I should in fact just shut up and get on with things, this slowly deteriorating status quo and be happy things aren't worse.  I have traded lunatic highs and lows for the miasma of mediocrity. Huh.  Where shall we actually begin though?  Years ago,when I started self-publishing on the internet while at University, it was for personal benefit/pleasure/survival.  To say I was living in a situation that didn't agree with me would be to dredge undersea rav...

Hello again everyone, and thanks for tuning it to another episode of bad mental health management! Write what you know.  What you live, what you can relate to, and what your truth is!  Right?  Right?!  Huh.  I don't know, I sometimes feel like I'm flogging a dead horse sometimes with posts like these, but you know, it's Tuesday and I need to write something.  I think what I'd like to focus on this morning is being afraid .  Obviously this is some kind post about anxiety.  I have that (what seems to me) standard high-functioning autism problem to be afflicted by mental health problems but have the wherewithal to see that it isn't entirely rational some or even most of the time, like some kind of intellectual fortitude to know a priori that it's okay and I can leave the house and make a valid contribution to the socio-economic position I have in my working life and be okay and manage... While in fact, my actual experience is feeling completely tra...