Stoking my own pipe.

[meekon5]

Meekon...always thought we shared some common ground. The poem touched me because it was EXACTLY how I felt and acted...the drugs didn't work for me at all....the love of good people and some sort of inner strength pulled me through those dark days..

You know as well as I do that those days may come again. I know that I wouldn't have got through this year if I hadn't experienced that despair. I would have crumbled at just the moment when someone who needed me the most was in need.

Dark days my friend those curtains drawn, that withdrawal into my cave, that reliance on my spirituality. The pure despair. The hopelessness. You know where that leads. Then one day an awakening. Some sort of brightness. Maybe a strangers words. I can't pin it down but something made me want to push on.

So I did and I got a job (yes sir dressed like that!) and I became....me again...and I started to respect me once more.

And here I am a whole lot more of a rounded person...still with problems that the world knows fuck all about! But at least I'm me and I'm still here.

Writing! Hah! I used to write so so much....then that darkness came...and it stopped!

Maybe one day my muse will return.

Bright blessings Simon. With love and openness and feeling my friend.

Peace

I think there is a lot more people out there that have had problems and are unable to talk about it.

I find that by writing I am able to release some of the frustration and anger that builds up (mostly at myself for having got myself into the situation).

I miss performing poetry as often as I used to but (grown up job, lots of commuting) I don't have as much free time at the moment.

I still have good days, and bad days. Some days I stand at the front door and it takes every ounce of my courage and will power just to open it and step out, other times it just opens and I am on my way before I even think about it.

My writing has always been very important to me, from school onwards. I was always one of the ones asked to read my stories to the class, I even went through a period where myself and a group of friends used to put on little plays weekly for the class.

I don't particularly keep a diary, but in some of the worse times I turn to writing.

My voices are not as mental (or as much of a symptom of mental illness) as they sound. They are the my creative voices, but mine tend to chunter on incessantly, so I do tend to appear to be the nut job on the bus when I forget myself and start to have a full blown argument with them. I understand that it is all me, I don't identify them as different or apart form myself (no schizophrenia problems) but occasionally they do just run with an idea or conversation, and I just sit and write it down. At times I can become lost in my revere and actually begin to see the situation.

I actually believe it's an element of my childhood that I never lost.

So imagine the loss when the drugs just stopped them talking.

I've always been aware that by talking about my problems it has at least helped others to realise they are not alone.

Years ago when I used to talk and perform poetry about being an ex-beaten husband, I would get some very good responses (performance). I find now more and more men are standing up and being counted as ex-beaten husbands. Now I don't think I'm tottaly instrumental, but I like to think I had a little to do with changing attetudes and getting people to feel they can talk about things.

I think what I'm saying is "It's good to talk", but it's also good to write. Even if you only do a little at a time (little by little), this forum has helped, all of you being witness to some of my longer rants.