There have
been a lot of tears this month.
Why, only
last week I cried my eyes out with laughter at the notion that the Prime
Minister of our great nation might have had sexual congress with a pig. And I
never even knew we had a congress in our government. Makes my troubles with a
Black Dog positively humdrum.
On a more
serious note and one perhaps more liable to have a longer term remedial effect,
I’ve found myself politically motivated , not to say inspired, by the
resounding success of Jeremy Corbyn in the Labour Leadership election. Why
should this have any effect on my mental health?
Well, as
much as you have to acknowledge external detrimental effects you certainly have
to recognise and welcome the external positives. Anything that comes along.
This, for me, is significant because it sparks a bit of hope in an arena where
I had definitely given up. That is, politics.
A guy
wanting to put social conscience at the forefront of the parliamentary agenda? Hell, yes.
And yes, I
appreciate it all may come to nothing by 2020 because the press assures me such
a man is unelectable as Prime Minister. Whereas a varnish-faced swineporker is
eminent PM material. But the possibility that a thing may never happen is not a
sound case against supporting it. Peter Dinklage may never be Doctor Who, but
I’m rooting for him a hundred percent because I know he would be *awesome*.
Corbyn would likely not be as awesome as PM because he’d probably be hamstrung
by the greed and self-interest of others, limited in the actual good he could
achieve in the same way Obama would love to introduce stricter gun controls in
the US but, you know, the most powerful leader in the Western world isn’t as
influential as a lot of righteous gundamentalists who enjoy a lot of bucks with
their bangs.
Anyway,
bottom line is, this represents potential for change. And that’s a bus worth
boarding. It’s fired some much-needed motivation on a front very much beyond
the personal, which is helpful in encouraging me to step outside of my own head
for a while and a counter-current to all the wider-world stuff that is all too
often a threat to mental health – by which, of course, I mean all that
depressing shit on the news.
Measuring
the month of September on a more personal scale, it’s true that I’ve not
achieved half the goals I had in mind at the outset, but there has been
significant movement in spite of some choresome domestic trials that did their
best to interfere with my carefully planned schedule.
As with
August, I’ve continued to mix a daily dose of social media activity with my
work and it’s continued to prove effective in fuelling creativity, as well as
simply providing for entertaining and interesting discussions. Just recently
we’ve begun a daily diet of Doctor Who talk and that’s always guaranteed to
invite diverse opinions, which is great. Stimulates the brain cells and often
fuels smiles, laughs and general inspiration throughout the day. It’s like
breakfast. A bowl of muse-li, say.
Everything
the solitary life of a writer needs. Except the hugs. He could always use more
hugs.
Amid all the
fun and larks, I think it’s fair to say I’ve been building on the daily
routines I’ve developed over the past few months. Adding to the framework. It
involves a very disciplined pattern to each day, which doesn’t always hold
together, but I’m learning to include a little flexibility. It’s a tricky
balance to strike – military-level discipline with permission to go AWOL at any
time. Actually, it’s not AWOL if it’s permitted, so you can see I’m still some
way from getting the balance right.
There are
still two projects outside of my ongoing goals that have moved closer to
reality and all of this structuring of my daily and weekly timetable should
prove beneficial when it comes to incorporating work on either (or both) of
those as and when the need arises.
Leisure
time, if anything, is where I’ve encountered my toughest hurdles. Awarding
myself an evening off and not knowing what the hell to do with the hours. I
mean, I’m not short of entertainment to enjoy, but there have been lonely evenings
when the Black Dog has crept in and done its enthusiasm-sapping thing, leeching
pleasure from even things I love and leaving them all a bit hollow.
Simplest of
cases in point, treated myself to a few biscuits one evening. Ate just three,
did not even notice I’d eaten them. Had another three. Another night I ended up
munching through a third of a packet of choc digestives. In similar fashion, I
went through a bottle of vino without really tasting it. Not healthy. And I’m
not talking about the path to obesity or alcohol damage to my liver. It’s more
the mental side, taking the time to enjoy the things you enjoy. A treat is not
a treat if you go through it in a stupour.
On those
evenings, my choice of movie might not penetrate further than the surface of
the eyes.
With that in
mind, looking ahead to next month, I will have to take care to pay as much
attention to rest and play as I have done to the work schedule.
Sometimes
work *is* play and I’m happy to say I had at least one day this month when I
dashed off a spot of writing and sat back, done, feeling immediately satisfied
with what I’d written. Also, for half the month I’d pressed ahead with the
creative exercises I’d been doing with friends and that, despite producing some
questionable creative results, was generally helpful as before. Looking forward
to the next phase of that.
Financially, I am running a deficit, so some paid work would probably be as beneficial as some hugs at this stage, but key parts of that (excessive?) expenditure have centred on lining up treats and trips for myself. Concerts, theatre, cinema outings, whatever. Sometimes you can’t afford not to allow yourself the things you can’t afford.
But to
conclude on a positive note, I’m not a drowning man clutching at straws, I’m
just clutching at straws because I’d rather fancy a slurp of a long cool drink
or several. And I’m not talking about wine – wine with straws would be so
gauche. Just some of life’s metaphorical drinks that keep you supplied with
that glass half-full feeling.
Like I said
on Twitter the other day. If life gives you demons, make demonade.
Now all I
have to do is formulate the recipe.
SAF 2015
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