It shouldn’t just be a week, and for some* I know that it isn’t. Awareness Weeks and National Days always make me feel edgy and conflicted, as the net floods with messages of support with perfect pictures and memes, and I cant help but wonder what happens afterwards.
But for you, gentle reader, I wanted to say this:
There are people out there who understand. There are people out there who don’t understand, but who will try their best to. They will sit and listen, they will burble easy conversation that isn’t taxing or threatening or judging.
All the other people you don’t have to sweat over. Don’t give them the space in your mind.
But there are those out there who wont care how awkward or difficult or weird or ugly you feel. They will still treat you with respect, they will still like you. They will still stand at your side.
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and suddenly you may fall into a place
populated by strange
empty hours filled with the hesitant light of afternoons
or of being caught unawares in conversation, and
startled – like birds,
clear-felled lots, hastily forgotten,
bald hillsides, prone to erosion,
is this a wilderness, or a devastation?
A loss, or a pause?
* * *
nb. And Suddenly is a very old doggerel of terrible Vogon poetry by yours truly. Mental Health by way of ecology, or “writing-with” nature – as inspired by the works of Robert MacFarlane, Gary Snyder, Murray Bookchin (kinda).
Wake up, bleary-minded. Bed is warm with the press of bodies (wife and cats) and the light is just ’round the corner from arrived. Pray. Water. Then strong coffee. Try not to trip over the cats now chirruping about the kitchen floor. Get washed, open the windows. Take a moment to be an outside creature; wordlessly snuffing at the ozone and looking at the plants. More nicotine and caffeine in equal measures. Make sure that everything and everyone is fed and watered before the business of the day starts properly. Later I’ll boot up the laptop and check the world hasn’t done anything stupid while the sun hasn’t been around this side of the hemisphere. Morning injections of data supplied through the crackling radio, or from the email lists. At some point stretches, and a (very) brief attempt at some yoga.
And lastly; a little white pill.