This Writers Day

Tags

author, boredom, Lifestyle

I wake up with the birds, irrespective of the season. I feel fresh and alive. I’m showered and shaved in an instant. I the check and answer my emails. From there I generally visit my parents who live just up the road for a coffee and cigarette. We discuss and solve the worlds problems….but don’t tell anyone the answers.

I then head back home and begin writing, be it working on my latest book, this blog or my poetry blog. My writing takes me through to around 1pm. By this time I am mentally exhausted and often out of ideas.

This leads to the dreaded boredom. I try every trick in the book to avoid boredom. Television exacerbates the boredom. Reading doesn’t work, nor does recording music. I visit friends or occasionally go into town but this only passes so much time.

By the time late afternoon or early evening arrives I begin to feel mentally rejuvenated again and thus writing resumes in earnest. My writing during these later hours are my most productive. I must be careful not to stay up writing too late as I end up getting little or no sleep. This takes me a couple of days to recover from so I have learned not to write after 9pm.

I go to bed with my mind racing with ideas about what I shall write about the following day. Due to the fact that my mind had been working overtime for the best part of the day, I generally sleep well….ready to wake with the birds again.

Feigning Interest

Tags

boredom, interest, Nursing

Prior to this entry I would like to point out that I do not consider myself a great conversationalist or academic. I actually consider myself rather boring under most circumstances.

As a child I was raised to always be polite, particularly to elders. On most occasions I found it easy but sometimes I would find myself drifting off into another world if someone was talking about something that held absolutely no interest to me. I guess they never noticed my glazed  eyes as they harped on as they never commented on it.

In my early 20’s I played in rock bands. After countless gigs and playing the same songs night after night I had to learn to apply this feigned interest even further.

Doing the aforementioned same songs night after night, pulling off the same moves at the same time and making it look ‘fresh’ and spontaneous took a bit of work. I managed to get through by constantly reminding myself that I’m playing these songs to a different crowd who had never heard or seen us before.

Then there was the ‘mingling’ aspect after a gig. Fans would inevitably praise and congratulate you the same way that a different group of fans had done the night before. As boring as it was, I found feigning interest easy as all I had to do was give the same answers as I had the previous night being sure to employ an enthusiastic and grateful tone.

It wasn’t until I became a Registered Nurse that I became really good at feigning interest. I had no choice. When it came to professional duties then one has to pay attention otherwise you’re a negligent nurse. On the flip-side there was constant small-talk with patients, visitors and work colleagues. Much of this small-talk was either irrelevant,  repetitive or gossip. Frankly I’d rather be on Mars during such conversations but as part of my professional duties I had to play the game.

It was over these years of experience in dealing with monotonous conversation that I came to enjoy socialising. I could talk to, who I considered, the most boring person ad nauseum about something I knew nothing about, nor did I want to. People came to enjoy my company due to my manners and I was often lumbered by ‘the boring person’  at a function. I didn’t mind. Having said this, I rarely socialise these days. Through my years in playing in bands, nursing and life in general I feel that I have socialised more than most  people my age. I must say, I don’t miss it.

As mentioned at the beginning of this entry, I do not consider myself a great conversationalist. I find myself quite average on that front. I do, however, like to consider myself a polite person.

His Own Worst Enemy

Tags

Communication, love, personality

Colin Haywood was 45 years old and divorced. He worked as an assistant in an accountants office. He was a popular member of staff, always willing to help out colleagues where he could but he did it to a fault. Colin tried too hard.

Some of his more slovenly colleagues would leave scrap pieces of paper and so forth on the floor knowing full well that Colin would pick up and dispose of it. Even his boss would lumber Colin with paperwork that he was not legally qualified to attend to. Colin would oblige, irrespective.

Colins’ major failing, to my mind, was his desperation to get a himself a partner….and I mean DESPARATE! He had already asked out every female employee in the office for a coffee and was rejected. This didn’t stop Colin.

He was always joining clubs of various sorts with the primary aim of securing a partner. When he would join a club he would bound up to my door, full of beans, eager to tell me all about it. Predictably, after a few weeks, Colin simply stopped mentioning the club. I’m not interested as to know why but it has become a definite pattern. He would also drop around and visit to tell me that he was going out for a coffee with a lady and that things were looking ‘promising.’ How can you tell? It’s only a coffee for goodness sake! These coffees would inevitably eventuate into nothing.

Colin is a likeable fellow. Always chirpy and full of conversation but has the annoying habit of talking about people that I don’t know as if I do know them….and the talk is usually of a negative nature. I don’t like that very much. It is also very evident that he lives on his nerves.

He either visits to tell me of a prospective ‘hook-ups’ or to tell me how a prospect has gone pear-shaped. When he leaves, I’m generally left feeling depressed for a wee while….but not for long. Generally speaking, I don’t see the feel for a partner. Maybe I’ve just become too too used to my own company which some may see as selfish.

This is one thing that cannot be said of Colin. He is one of the most unselfish people that I have encountered. I genuinely wish him well in his endeavours in seeking a partner. I also hoe that people start treating him with the respect that he deserves.

A Poets Meeting

Tags

Facebook, fake, Lifestyle, writing

Deryck Anderson was an author. He was also a recluse through choice. His work was published on Amazon but he didn’t advertise it. He didn’t have to. His latest work, “Crime Report,” performed rather well an he was swamped by local authors to attend their meetings. He would come up with lame excuses such as ‘prior commitments’ and the likes. These excuses worked well.

One day after persistent badgering from one local poet he reluctantly agreed to attend a meeting.

He had a fair idea of what the meeting entail but had no idea to the extent of it. On entering the function Deryck was immediately hit by the overwhelming odour of perfume. He was also confronted by lots of scarves, fancy hats, overdone hand movements and fake back-slapping.

After standing for a few minutes nursing his glass of water and taking in the overall sense of the scene Deryck was approached by a lady, slightly older than he who began to praise him on his latest work. “You must be Deryck,” she said. Deryck couldn’t hold his sarcasm back and said “I guess I must be.” His humour was lost on her. It soon became obvious that she knew little of his book.

The lady soon beckoned a few of her friends over and introduced them to Deryck. They too quite obviously knew little of his work. Just his name and his short cigarette holder became more of a talking point. It was definitely time for him to leave. He excused himself early through boredom but lied and said that he had an early start in the morning.

When he arrived home he made himself a coffee, lit a cigarette and put on a mindless reality TV show with actors that he didn’t even know, let alone know anything about them….nor was he interested. In a way they reminded him of the people at the poets meeting. Fake strangers.

Deryck then set about removing all of his contact from his social media sites. He stopped answering inbox letters on his profile page on Facebook, only his authors page. He even went as far as to call his telephone provider to have his name removed from the following years phone book.

He was more than happy writing and receiving feedback through his writing sites.

Writing was his life. He sought no ‘rock star’ accolades, no fake pats on the back and certainly no poetry meetings where people talk about your work without actually ‘knowing’ it.

Sensitivity

Tags

emotions, persona

Bob Dylan once sang; “I hurt easy I just don’t show it. You can hurt someone and not even know it.” This is me down to the ground. I am an extremely sensitive person. 95% of people who know me don’t realise this. I have an outgoing and humorous nature. I believe that this is a mask for my sensitivity and insecurities. I also believe that it is a learned behaviour. A defence mechanism.

I have a propensity to overthink. I can overthink the smallest and most trivial thing to the exclusion of all other logical thoughts. Give me a bag of nothing and I will overthink it into Mount Everest.

Depending on my frame of mind I can take a perfectly innocent comment and turn it into a nasty piece of work. Why I do this I do not know. On other occasions I can take the nastiest comment and swat it away like a fly.

I see no need for rudeness. I cannot be verbally rude to someone who has been rude to me but I can reduce them to the size of an ant non-verbally. This is much easier and more satisfying I find.

Why people feel the need to be rude to someone else fascinates me. It achieves nothing but embarrassment for the ‘victim.’ Perhaps it’s an ego trip for the perpetrator. There are countless reasons but there are no excuses.

So the next time that you encounter a seemingly happy and outgoing, humorous type on your travels, bear in mind the words of Bob Dylan. These people may not be as they portray themselves.

Situational Writing

Tags

conversation, imagination, news

Much of my writing I consider to be situational. By situational I am referring to writing about something that derives from a newspaper story that I may have read, a television story that I have seen, a conversation that I have had with someone, an incident that I have been involved in or witnessed. I consider myself fortunate in that my imagination allows me to write about such events.

Seemingly innocuous events to many simply pass them by without a thought. To me I find them fascinating. I can wake up some mornings and write about my waking experience. Likewise I can write about the effects of a poor nights sleep. As mentioned above, my imagination can at times run riot

I have some rules pertaining to my writing. Although I swear in real life I do not use coarse language in my writing. I can convey an expletive in my writing without actually penning it. I also don’t breach the confidentiality of others. I have a ‘thing’ about the privacy of others. Often, when writing about myself I will disguise my identity by replacing the word ‘I’ with ‘he’ or ‘she.’ To the avid reader I suspect that this may be somewhat transparent….but I don’t mind. I’m pretty well an open book.

My other big rule pertaining to my writing is that I do not write about my children. Mere words cannot convey my feelings for them. It’s too big. They know know my feelings for them and I know their feelings for me. It’s that simple. I see no need to go bleating on about them ad nauseam. It’s a very personal thing.

On writing in a situational manner there is on occasion some embellishment. I have no problem with this so long as the reader is made aware of it and that fiction is not portrayed as fact.

I have several writings saved as drafts as I often run out of imagination half way through. It may sit there as a draft for days….or weeks….then SUDDENLY without warning, I’m right back there in that bygone moment and I complete my piece.

I have no problem getting the initial ‘spark’ for a piece then struggle to round it off….as is the case with this piece, which was actually commenced a few days ago. It took a recent conversation with the girl at the corner store  to see this piece come to an end. Two words actually. I was talking to her about a dilemma that I was having commencing another work. Two words from her was all it took.

“Think it. Write it.”

Changing Health Providers

Tags

blood tests, G.P.

 

I am a retired State Registered Nurse of over 20 years so have some insight into the medical profession.  I have had little need to visit a G.P….only my psychiatrist. I only visit my G.P. to get a  prescription for a long-standing back complaint. It was resolved with a low dose opiate within 3 days….every time. No problem.

When I moved to a different city I had to find myself another G.P. One who was on the same planet as myself. I asked around and was advised of one G.P. by former nursing colleagues who described him as the best of a bad lot. “Here we go,” I thought.

When my back complaint flared up I made an appointment to see him. I got to see him 2 weeks later by which time my agony was gone. I explained to him that I was a former State Registered Nurse but he seemed more intent on looking at his computer screen. Without a word he handed me a pathology request form and told me to make a follow-up appointment in two weeks. I did so and went and got my bloods taken.

On returning to get my blood results back from him they were all within normal limits with the exception of my Potassium level. Potassium is important for the electrical conductivity of the heart. It can also indicate kidney disease. He made me repeat the test 3 times. He must have been making a fortune out of my poor veins. There was, however, no E.C.G. and no renal function test as he continued to be more interested in his computer screen.

Despite the fact that my psychiatric medications were all within normal limits, he began messing about with the doses prescribed by my psychiatrist. Within a week or two, my mental state was all over the place.

Fortunately I remained lucid enough to look for another G.P. I was in luck. He was in a different town but had a good reputation and was a former I.C.U. nurse. He actually spoke to me and would ask my opinion. He instantly repeated my Potassium level and it turned out to be an an error on the part of pathology. He immediately consulted my psychiatrist and my pysch medications were returned to the what that they were before. Things were looking up again. It took a few weeks but I returned to my old self.

When it comes to your health, it pays to shop around. Don’t settle for second best.

The Doctor

Tags

addiction, anxiolytic, doctor, opiate

He was a doctor with many years experience and well respected by his colleagues, patients and the community in general.

As he approached middle-age, however, he began prescribing medication in an unusual manner. Patients who presented complaining of pain he would check them over and send them off for an x-ray if he felt it necessary. He would then prescribe these patients with powerful and addictive opiates. These opiates worked well and initially his patients were content and pain free.

As time progressed his patients would return requesting more pain killers. He would increase the dose as they were developing a tolerance to the opiates. It wasn’t long before some of his patients were being prescribed outrageous doses of these opiates on a weekly basis.

These patients had become addicts. They were stoned out of their minds as they went about their daily business (which included driving a car). When they weren’t stoned out of their minds they suffered nasty withdrawal symptoms so he would prescribe them an equally addictive anxiolytic. His patients were ‘happy’ again….albeit they were stoned.

Meanwhile the doctor enjoyed an ever improving lifestyle. He now owned six houses, took four overseas holidays a year with his family and was able to reduce his working hours. Nobody raised an eyelid. Why should they?

Things began to catch him up when one of his patients was at fault in a car accident that they were involved in. His blood levels of the doctors prescribed opiate and anxiolytic were sky high. He should not have been driving. The doctor was questioned by the police about this. He lied to them and said that he had advised the patient not to drive. He even covered his bases by documenting this in the patients notes.

One detective was skeptical and gained access to the notes of the doctor on that particular patient. Having no medical knowledge the detective took a copy of the notes to the forensic department who found a glitch. The doctor had jumped straight to a powerful opiate as pain relief before trying milder anti-inflammatory medication. This begged the question, “Why?”

Notes on the doctors other patients of the doctor on the same addictive pain relief and anxiolytics were copied and confiscated by the police. The police scoured the notes and a blatant  pattern of treatment was evident.

It took one young detective to discover that the medication being supplied was all manufactured by a relatively new pharmaceutical company. The doctor was brought in for questioning and initially took offence at the suggestion that he may be receiving financial incentives for prescribing medications from this company. When the police told him that they were able to access his bank transactions, he weakened and confessed.

The doctor was struck off the register, never to practise again. The pharmaceutical company continue to operate to this day.

People That You Meet

Tags

behaviour, Lifestyle, people

Please note that this entry is purely my opinion. No offence is intended.

I’m not much one for going into town just for the sake of it. On most occasions it’s a case of getting in, doing the job and getting out. I often wear my sunglasses in case I spy someone that I know and am not in the mood for talking. I even wear them sometimes in winter even though it may be viewed as ‘uncool.’ I’m not interested in ‘uncool’ or ‘cool.’ I am who I am. I do my best to blend in with the masses.

On a good day, however, if I encounter someone that I know I’m more than happy to have a chat and catch up on what they have been up to. I am genuinely interested. On a bad day I’ll pretend not to see them or make an excuse to get away from them as quickly as possible without being rude.

On these good days I might stop somewhere for a coffee. I have a keen interest in behavioural psychology and enjoy observing the different types of people that pass me by. Their body language, mode of speech, dress sense, facial expressions and so forth. It has always genuinely fascinated me as I sit there wondering what makes these people tick.

Social functions have always driven me up the wall….to the point where I have refused invites for many years now. Everyone is putting on an act. They speak differently than they do were I to speak to them in the street and talk falsely of subjects that they know little or nothing about. The formal dress is a farce, the back-slapping drives me up the wall too as does the overdone compliments. I see no need for any of it. Some may say I’m anti-social. I prefer to see myself as a realist.

Some people live for these social events and I suspect that they would be lost without them. With my aforementioned interest in behavioural psychology, I am left wondering what these people do at home. When they are by themselves. Can they exist without the ‘fakery’? I don’t spend too much time wondering about them.

Then again, if people are happy with their gig then so be it and I wish them all the best. I would certainly not hurt their feelings simply because I don’t agree with the way that they carry out their lives.

Live and let live.

 

My Angle On Poetry

Tags

Allen Ginsberg, author, Bob Dylan, Communication, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Michael McClure, writing, Youtube

Before you read on, please bear in mind that this entry is merely my opinion.

As writer I get to read a lot of poetry. I enjoy poetry but I’m fussy with it and probably have a slightly different take on it than many. I enjoy poetry more than I enjoy reading books.

I’m not much one for poetry that consists of one or two words per line. I find it difficult to follow. Maybe I’m a bit thick or not ‘arty’ enough. If I read too many poems in succession about lost love I find myself getting depressed so I have to spread my reading out over the day. They get a bit ‘samey.’

When I read a poem that I don’t go much on, I often click ‘like’ anyway. Why? I click ‘like’ because I admire the fact that the writer has the confidence to get their emotions out there and out there for the world to read.

I rarely comment on blog entries as I find that most comments are all pretty much the same. They don’t need me adding to this repetition. I will, however, comment if a poem ‘touches’ me. I try to make my comment positive and (obviously) relevant.

Lengthy poems throw me off balance. By the time I get to the end of a piece I’ve forgotten what the start of it was. I like concise poetry and you will find this if you encountered my poetry blog.

To me, a poem must tell a story. I’m not one for abstract poetry. A friend of mine once commented on this when speaking of the great beat poet Allen Ginsberg. He said that reading his work was like peeling an onion. Once you peel back all the layers to get to the middle of the meaning, you’re in tears. I enjoy Ginsberg but my friend has a point.

I recently encountered a Youtube clip of another beat poet, Michael McClure, reading the lyrics of the late Jim Morrison from The Doors. His reading gave the song a whole new meaning. I took myself to the library and hired out a book on Morrisons’ lyrics. I was astounded. It totally changed my opinion of Morrison. I now see him as 90% poet and 10% rock star. I also apply this to the writings of the late Kurt Cobain. I rank them, as lyricists, up there with Bob Dylan.

I guess, like all of the arts, poetry is a matter of different strokes for different folks. This is the beauty of poetry. I guess it’s like music, art, etc.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

 

Cigarettes

Tags

addiction, choice, cigarettes, heroin, nicotine

“GUILTY!”

I make no bones about it and I make no apologies. I smoke about 10 cigarettes a day. As a former Registered Nurse I have seen first hand what cigarettes can do to a person. This just makes me more stupid. I don’t smoke inside my house. I much prefer doing it from the scenic view provided by my veranda. I don’t even like smoking in friends houses who are smokers.

I use a short cigarette holder when I have a cigarette as I can’t stand the sight of nicotine stained fingers. I don’t go much on seeing people smoking in the street….and don’t get me started on pregnant women smoking. I do have an unwritten rule not to go out anywhere that I can’t have a cigarette. This impinges on my social life somewhat but so be it. Rules are rules.

Smoking is no longer ‘cool.’ Gone are the days when it was cool to get about with a lit or unlit cigarette hanging from your mouth. I find the anti-smoking campaigns on television to be nothing more than an exercise in keeping up appearances. The tobacco companies pay the governments who pay the television companies to air these advertisements in a transparent attempt to show that they care for our health. Its’ common knowledge.

Nicotine is more addictive than heroin….but its’ much more cunning. Heroin will turn your life inside out in no time and lead the addict to do whatever is needed to get their next hit. All that has to be done to access the more addictive nicotine is go to the corner store without any fuss whatsoever. Were nicotine to be ‘discovered’ tomorrow it would be outlawed straight away. Of that I have no doubt.

I’m not going to tell you not to smoke. We’re all informed adults here. It’s a legal product and we still have the choice. It’s up to you.

Paradoxically, I urge you to make the right choice.

 

The Hidden Man

Tags

anxiety, Communication, medication

Most of the people who knew him viewed him as an outgoing, humorous chap and a great conversationalist with a broad base of knowledge. He could discuss most subjects with, at the very least, some credibility. This is what he had been told by many.

Beneath this facade lay bipolar disorder. Nobody knew with the exception of his psychiatrist and his doctor. Not even his family and closest friends.

His disorder did not present in a typical, textbook manner. He never became depressed. His disorder manifested in episodes of mild hypo mania following the build up of minor and often unnoticed stressful events. He would stay awake for days and when he did sleep he would wake with a start from a very vivid dream. So vivid that he would confuse it with reality. This was the beginning of worse things to come and it took him many years to recognise these initial warning signs.

His hypo manic episodes were not outrageous but were extremely distressing. They would then lead to racing thoughts, tremors and high anxiety. By the time his symptoms reached this stage he would not, could not, leave the house. He didn’t want people to see him in such a condition.

Over the years he also learned that it was time to seek medical help. He would go through the same motions yet again. Blood tests to check his Epilim and Lithium levels. They were inevitably low….for no good reason. It was just the nature of the beast and his medications would be adjusted accordingly.

When he was well he would socialise and his condition would remain unseen. He wasn’t embarrassed about it. He simply didn’t want to burden other people with his problem. His personality led him to be the one doing the helping. Lending an ear or a shoulder to those who needed it. Ironically he found this therapeutic.

So the next time you encounter a friend behaving ever so slightly different, ask if they’re okay. They will probably say that they’re fine. In the case of ‘the unseen man’ they probably are okay as they have been so accustomed to managing their condition effectively that it has become second nature to them.

Having said this, there are people out there who do not manage their condition so well. Ask them. Listen to them. Support them. Suggest seeking help. You can only do what you can do. If there are indicators of potential self-harm then take action on their behalf. I wish that I could advise you on how to do this but I do not have the knowledge. It is up to you.

Death. One Nurses Perspective

Tags

death, hospital, pain relief

Please note that this entry dates back to 2000. Things have improved significantly in the area of palliative care since then. This entry is also only my opinion.

I was a State Registered Nurse for over twenty years so have seen my fair share of death. I am not afraid of death. I never have been. I am, however, petrified of dying in hospital in pain. This stems from my experience as a nurse.

As a nurse, looking after terminal patients, I did my  job and went home. I never took my work home with me. I did, however, become angry when I would see a patient in agony being prescribed an inadequate amount of pain relief.

I would become angry when a doctor, usually a junior doctor, would enter a patients room and prescribe them the lowest dose of pain relief (about 1mg morphine) without even looking at the patient, let alone assessing them. This would leave me to do what I could and try to console and calm the patients upset and angry family.

On one such occasion I gave this minimal dose with nil effect. The doctor just happened to walk past the ward half an hour later. I rather abruptly took the doctor to the patients room and pointed at the patient who was still writhing in pain. The doctors face went bright red and he immediately prescribed a higher dose of morphine. Fifteen minutes later the patient was pain free and lucid. Their family members were much more settled too.

I would like to see a prescribing doctor be inflicted with the same agony as some of their patients for half an hour. I guarantee that their pain relief would be much higher.

I recall one occasion where a terminal patient was prescribed a morphine dose of between 1mg and 10mg to be given dependent on their level of pain. Unfortunately I was a junior nurse. The senior nurse that I was with decided to give 1mg of morphine and work our way up if it didn’t suffice. My philosophy is start on the highest dose and work down. On this occasion I was right. The small dose of morphine didn’t work so the patient was stuck in agony until their next dose of morphine was due 4 hours later.

When their next dose was due the senior nurse got the hint that I wasn’t happy and asked me what dose we should give. I said 8mg morphine. It worked within minutes and we now had a baseline to work with until their condition deteriorated.

I did experience one incident that infuriated me. A senior nurse, of all people,stated that she had concerns about the morphine dose prescribed for a patient who only had a few days to live. “What if they get addicted?” they said. I couldn’t believe my ears. Addicted? So what? This poor person only has days to live. Addiction isn’t an issue.

In this day and age, nobody should die in pain. Cannabis and heroin for hospital use is not legal globally. Why not? It should be. It’s cruel. Cannabis has been proven to be a more effective painkiller for bone cancer than heroin. Why isn’t it available where necessary? I’ll tell you why. Drug companies but don’t get me started on them.

I’m probably going to get shot for saying what I’m about to but if you spent one minute in my nurses shoes you just might understand. I believe that euthanasia should be legal globally. I don’t advocate ‘bumping people off’ at random. The decision must be that of the patient. If they are unable to make this decision it should be a family decision. This can cause conflict so in such cases the decision should be made by the doctor. Ideally the decision should be documented by the patient while they are still in a fit enough state to make such a big decision.

As mentioned at the beginning of this blog, I am not afraid of death but am petrified dying in hospital in pain. If I have the misfortune of seeing my life end in hospital, I shall be requesting as much morphine and cannabis as I can get my hands on. I will not suffer and will ensure that euthanasia documentation is attended.

Spend one minute with a terminally ill patient in hospital receiving inadequate pain relief and you might, just might, get an inkling as to where I’m coming from.

Imagination

Tags

imagination, nature, psychology

Albert Einstein once said words to the effect that logic will get you from  A to B but your imagination can take you everywhere. So simple it’s brilliant. I guess that’s why he was Einstein and I’m not.

For those of us with a creative bent, imagination is our weapon. Without it we have nowhere to go. If it is interrupted in any way then the imagination is stifled and we lose our train of thought. It can become all but lost. True imagination and creativity must be captured and addressed instantly otherwise it becomes tainted. I realise that this is not always possible and often wonder at what marvelous creations have gone by the wayside due to distraction or procrastination.

Some artists and the likes use mind-altering substances to fuel their imagination. While this may result in wonderful creations, it is not imagination in its’ purest form. It is contrived.

Moving away from the creative side of the imagination, I will often see a bird or a butterfly out of my window. I wonder what it must be like to be them. I realise that their goings-on are done on autopilot but my I wonder what  they are thinking. How they view the world as they go about their business with few cares in the world. I imagine what they are thinking and how they view the world.

Moving even further away from the creative side of the imagination, it can have a dark side too. If one allows oneself to fall into the trap of negative thoughts, the imagination can blow an ordinary thought up into World War 2. ‘I have a bill to pay. What if I don’t pay it on time? Will Hitler arrive on the doorstep?’ ‘What if my car breaks down? Will it cost $1,000 to repair?’

Thoughts such as these are extremely distressing and of course irrational. What drives you to these imaginary thoughts?

If these thoughts persist and interfere with your daily life then I suggest seeking help.

Your imagination is a powerful tool and when harnessed and utilised will bring unbridled joy to your life and the life of others.

The Perils Of Boredom

Tags

anxiety, boredom, depression, Lifestyle

Most of us get bored from time to time but there’s boredom and there’s boredom. There are countless remedies for boredom. Going for a walk. Reading a book. Listening to music or playing an instrument. Doing housework. Visiting friends. There are many options.

When you find yourself bored with activities that normally stimulate you then perhaps it is time to ask yourself some questions. Why do my activities no longer stimulate me? This is where the advice of family and friends proves helpful. After all, they know you and your habits best.

When boredom becomes prolonged this may be a sign of underlying depression and help should  be sought. You will probably find that those close to you have noticed  your depressed mood before you have. This is often the case.

Prolonged depression will almost certainly lead to anxiety. Combined with the depression already caused, this is a nasty combination and can have a profound and negative effect on your mental health. Once anxiety presents I cannot urge you strongly enough to seek help.

I’ve been there.

 

 

Good Mornings. Bad Mornings.

Tags

computer, medication, waking up, wrriting

I wake up to one of two types of mornings. A good morning or a bad one.

A Good Morning: I gently wake up feeling relaxed waiting to face the day. Full of beans. I take my meds and head off to town to do what has to be done without waiting for my meds to kick in.

I arrive home and unpack my shopping then do what little housework has to be done. After this I sit down to my laptop, check my emails then begin writing. My writing can be work on a book, a blog or a poem. Ideas are flowing freely.

In the afternoon I either read or record my music. My mind is still flying with ideas. I slow down a bit come late afternoon but by the time early evening comes my mind is abuzz again with ideas. On these days I must be vigilant in taking my bedtime meds or I won’t sleep. This is a recipe for disaster the following day. I have learned this the hard way and it has been a lesson well learned.

A Bad Morning: A bad morning usually starts after neglecting to take my aforementioned bedtime meds. I wake with a start and usually after a very vivid dream. So vivid that I confuse it with reality.

On these mornings I take my meds and return to bed for a while until I feel them work. Even with my meds on-board I struggle to do what has to be done in town. Sometimes it doesn’t get done. This only serves to heighten my angst.

My startled waking state remains with me for the greater part of the day. Checking my email goes by the wayside. Writing of any form is out of the question.

My overall poor mental state eases come early evening. My mind becomes abuzz again and I get around to checking my emails and writing. It is at this point that I must remain ever alert with regards to taking my bedtime meds otherwise another bad morning is all but guaranteed.

Irrespective of whether I have had a good or bad day, I always tell myself on retiring to bed, “Tomorrow is another day.”

Online Sharing

Tags

blogging, music sitess, online sharing

From what I can gather, Facebook is by far the most popular. People enjoy sharing their lives from behind the safety of their computer screen. They say things and display photos that they would not normally do so in the real world. I’ll address this in more detail shortly.

With over 3,000 friends on Facebook my timeline moves too fast for me to keep up with. Most of my friends emanate from my online music antics. I only keep regular contact with about 20 of them from all over the globe. I enjoy hearing about their culture. I actually only keep in contact with about a dozen people that I know in the real world.

Getting back to what people share on Facebook, their computer seems to give them some sense of false bravado as I know for sure that they wouldn’t say some of the things that they do online. I get a weird kick when I see arguments in public on Facebook. These people may as well stand in the street and yell their obscenities at each other for all to witness. It’s like reading a script from ‘The Days Of Our Lives.’

Many posts on Facebook bemuse me but I don’t view this as a bad thing. Different people have different interests and what I find mundane some people will find entertaining. The free speech aspect of Facebook is something that I like.

Music sites are a different kettle of fish. As an online musician I find them somewhat ‘desperate’ with pleas from musicians and sites to join them….usually for a price. I am very selective with what music sites that I am a part of.

I find blogging sites much more relaxing and stimulating. There is genuine talent and thought happening. I don’t go much on ‘doom and gloom’ posts….but….I will ‘like’ and occasionally comment on an entry. Why? The writer has displayed talent, creativity and on occasion have found a place comfortable enough to share their most personal thoughts. There is also no desperation on blogging sites. You can take it or leave it without offending anyone.

I vary my online sharing between Facebook, music sites and blogging site but prefer blogging sites as there is no pressure and no need to keep up with replies such as those that are prevalent on music sites and Facebook

Don’t Fake It To Make It

Tags

anxiety disorder, bipolar disorder, fear, psychiatry

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and an anxiety disorder in 2009. Since then I receive regular treatment from my psychiatrist and doctor. I have also researched the conditions heavily. I am by no means an expert but I think that I have a sound knowledge of what I am talking about.

Over my years of research the term ‘fake it to make it’ kept popping up. This term alludes to ‘pretending’ that you’re okay in order to achieve a particular task, particularly a task that involves dealing with people. I employed this tactic and as difficult as it was It worked. I was later to find out that it had a nasty catch.

After continuing with my ‘fake it to make it’ for some time, I was to discover that it didn’t address the underlying stress that caused me to employ it. Even though I felt good after faking it to make it I would return home to find that the underlying stress was still there. Faking it to make it was merely a band aid. My stress lay there festering.

The next time my anxiety would rear its’ ugly head I would continue with the fake it to make it tactic. Again I got through my stressful situation but return home again to my underlying stress. This stress now accompanied and added to my already underlying stress.

This went on for months until my latent stress, temporarily masked by ‘fake it to make it,’ finally resulted in a nervous breakdown. I now know the warning signs, do not employ the tactic and seek medical help.

I am not saying that ‘fake it to make it’ doesn’t work. It works for situations such as public speaking and so forth. For situations that do not involve mental illness it has been proven to work very well.

If you find that faking it to make it is becoming a regular part of your life that you seek assistance. Help is out there.

How I Got To Blogging

Tags

author, Communication, Facebook, Internet, music, poetry, Sharing, writing

I began many moons ago online purely as a recording artist. I recorded and released my music on every site that I could find. For the first two years it was a really exciting time as I received accolades and even set up my own website.

As time went on, however, I began  to get bombarded by requests from fellow musicians to review their music as I am an experienced sound engineer and  multi-instrumentalist. I simply didn’t have the time. I can’t just listen to a song and critique’ it. I need a good few listens before I can give an accurate assessment of a piece. My days would be filled with listening to other peoples music instead of concentrating on my own. I ended up having to send out a (polite) mass email saying that I was no longer doing song critiques.

After approximately seven years I felt that I needed a break from music so I took to writing. I began writing short stories, which have been published. I am currently working on my first novel.

Amidst all of this I would mess about on Facebook from time to time….but not often. I enjoy the free speech aspect of it but don’t go much on the way that people believe everything they read. I also don’t go much on people posting pretty pictures with poignant messages. No originality or imagination of their own. Now don’t get me wrong, I like photos of cute babies but I can’t understand why people post these people post another photo two hours later. How much more cute can a baby get in the space of two hours? Facebook is a handy backup for boredom. Just a few minutes here and there is enough. Sometimes it can even give me an idea for my writing.

Having spent a few years writing my short stories I felt that I needed a writing avenue that would allow me to write my thoughts down as they presented. I saw an advertisement on Facebook (of all places) for WordPress in 2015 so I looked into it. It took me no time at all to get the hang of it and began this very blog. I can write down and publish my thoughts as they present and share them with anyone who cares to read them. A few months after commencing this blog I commenced a poetry blog.

Of all of the sites that I have been involved in over the years I have found this blogging site to be the most conducive to good vibes. People acknowledge your blogs and provide any criticism in a constructive manner with sprinklings of humour never too far away.

I have discovered (fortunately) that bloggers do not plead for accolades or riches as is the case with many online music sites. They do not treat blogging as a competition. Bloggers merely wish to share their ideas without fanfare. Musicians could learn a lot about how to conduct themselves from bloggers.

Bloggers just go about their business. This is how I conduct my life so I cannot help but be drawn to this attitude.

I think I shall continue blogging and writing my poems and short stories.

Overthinking

Tags

Lifestyle, mental health, overthinking, social phobia

There’s overthinking and there’s overthinking. We all do it at some point in varying degrees. When faced with a problem to solve, be it at work or on the home front we have to think before making a decision. When you get bogged down by this decision to the exclusion of all others then you’re heading for trouble. Other issues get pushed by the wayside to the detriment of the understanding of the big picture.can

Overthinking can go another step further. It can make its’ way into the most menial of aspects of your life. Example….I am on medication for bipolar disorder. Sometimes this medication makes me shake. Not markedly but enough to be noticeable. If I begin to overthink this shaking it can prevent me from going to the corner store to buy a packet of cigarettes, even though the girl at the corner store knows my situation. This type of overthinking can affect every activity of my daily life. What triggers it escapes me. I used to think that it was anxiety but after many years realised that it was the overthinking that caused this anxiety. Some days it doesn’t affect me at all.

A vivid imagination does not help the cause of those who overthink to. A molehill can be transformed into Mount Everest in a matter of seconds. It is more prevalent to present in a negative manner in the morning. Evening times tend to bring out overthinking of a more creative nature, leading the sufferer to stay up late, get little sleep and wake up in a state of angst.

If this sort of overthinking is impacting on your daily life I suggest seeking help. It can be treated.

Some people are placed on medication as overthinking can indicate an underlying mental health condition. It is imperative to take this medication as your psychiatrist knows your mental state better than you and have objectivity on their side. Even when you are feeling well, please keep taking your medication unless advised otherwise.

Don’t overthink yourself into a state of social paralysis.