If interested, my mental health has declined in the past 10 days, but I'm still doing better than I was. I still have faith. Just have to hang on and keep working at it. It's so hard to not trust your own thoughts and feelings. But it's what I have to do. I can't go back to how I was.
I watched a fascinating little documentary last night about a 60's folk/blues/country singer, Karen Dalton. Nick Cave speaks highly of her. Like many creatives, she could create art from life but struggled to live in it. I can always relate to people like that. The sensitive ones seem to struggle the most. Never achieved fame, though she could have. She didn't want it. Only released two albums. She died in poverty in 1993 aged 55. A very unique voice. Look her up on YouTube.
The previous post spoke of my misery over the past year, so this will be much more positive.
Here is the second poem that I mentioned in the previous post. It was going to be another miserable one from earlier this year but I changed it. No one wants to read of another's misery. Besides, it's much more upbeat! And I don't want to appear that I've been wallowing in it. I've been fighting hard the entire time. As my partner can testify. I want to be better! And finally, I am feeling better, albeit a long way to go. With a little helping hand, you might say. This recent poem explains all.
There's a short video below that and also something positive to end on!
Looking to a better future
Above the Abyss
I no longer want to die
I’ve scrambled
To be my own saviour
No self-help book or video or psych
Can do the work
That only I can do
Must do.
However,
I did receive a helping hand
Of sorts
From the Great Beyond
If one believes in such things
Which I don’t
And yet,
I cannot deny
That through my grandmother’s death
It forced me into a position
Of having to travel interstate
And face my difficulties
I believed impassable.
To rephrase
In her death
She helped me to live.
I did five days of travel
With the support of Taylah
And did it well
Including reading a poem I wrote
(That alone surprised me)
At her graveside service
And felt good for the
Great bulk of that trip.
I returned to Sydney
As did the anxiety
Which caused me to fall
Into a depressive hole
Nothing like having experienced freedom
And joy
After months of intense suffering
Only to be re-incarcerated
A form of twisted torture.
Since then
I’ve had the odd better day
And implemented positivity
Faked,
Over and over
Until it began to make inroads.
Now I’ve had a string of good days
Again, with the enforced mindset
Becoming my own Life Coach
And while there are setback days
I do believe I’m slowly emerging
Back into life
Out of the cell
Of my own design.
At least
I want to live
That is, its own
Sign of success.
5/5/25 11.45 pm
(My nephew’s birthday).
The last time I saw my grandmother, in Sept, 2023
The poem I read at my grandmother's service, Our Beloved Pioneer, appeared in a country publication too, submitted by my grandmother's son, my father.
Perhaps I'll share the full poem sometimes, if anyone is interested
Here's a short video I made about depression. Melancholy has followed me about forever and a day too but I'm also quite upbeat. An introvert and extrovert. Those who know can testify to the upbeat me. Most have not seen the other. I've learnt over the years to hide it well. Thus the nature of the mental tussle. It's an battle oft done silently.
Way back in 1992, I made a short film about a man who loses control of his mind after a series of life blows. Knowing my own mental state at times, it wasn't a huge stretch.
Enough misery now! Please feel free to share your story, feelings or even the post itself. It's good to talk about these things. Especially when I'm doing better. I think when people are really suffering, they're quiet. That's when others should become worried. I know I've come close to suicide many times in the past year. It scares me now when I think back to how viable an option it seemed.
I have a ways to go but signs recently are good. Not great but trending upwards. Day at a time. Keeping calm and staying positive are my weapons. (Just don't tell a depressed person to be positive. They're too far gone. It's near impossible).
I only became that depressed because the anxiety was so severe it made my life unbearable. It was only through some respite via cold showers, swimming and Valium plus distractions like faking it, playing music, dancing, talking to myself and the support of my girlfriend that I was able to rise enough before I could even entertain the idea of being positive. Without some daily relief, I would have taken my life. I fantasised about it. I planned it. At one point I had razor blades hidden throughout the house. It seemed the only way out.
Enough.
Peace
Anthony
Ps I'm thinking of releasing a novel. Not sure which one yet. I've got a few. Either Ode to Dead Young Friends, based on four young people I knew who all died young or True Love Kills, also based on a true story but with a lot more fictional aspects about a teenage girl whose new school friends are involved in a terrible incident in which someone dies.
What do you think? The anxiety doesn't want me to do anything as it's all 'dangerous' but I have to keep pushing myself. This will be quite a scary exercise, unlike when I released books in the past when it was exciting. Still, I feel the work is good and should be out there. I think.
It's Mental Health Month so I present to you two of the only four poems I've written so far in 2025. (One poem now and another in the next post). It's very unlike me and that's because creativity is the first thing to go when suffering from shitty mental health.
I've had severe anxiety, which has been going on for over a year. I've always had anxiety and there's been bad periods, panic attacks, going back to childhood but nothing like what I've been experiencing. Very physical. Very debilitating. It's been the toughest part of my life without a doubt. Your own brain turning against you. There's no escape. It's been fucking horrendous.
AI created for this post
Only my girlfriend really knows what it's been like for me. She's seen it up close. Without her I would say I would have done myself in. This is not a pity cry. It was an escape I fantasised about. I will say I have improved over the past few months, and especially the past three weeks.
Anyway, read the poems and know they come from a place of deep truth. If anything, I've underplayed how I've been. In public, I've certainly kept up a brave face. I've been able to work but only just. Valium has got me through. (Cold showers too). I've been in survival mode. Truth is, some people are supportive, others not at all, but only up to a point and only for a set time. I've learnt this the hard way. People get empathy burn out. And they're the ones who actually care. Depressed people are on their own. Happy people attract others. A sad fact. And we wonder people take their own lives.
I don't.
Far from land, foretold
Hope surfaces
Like the proverbial drowning man
Trying to suck in air
Before the next wave devours him.
I am adrift
A plaything
A joke
To amuse the oceanic Gods
‘Look how it struggles
While grasping its futility
Pathetic.’
The irony being
I can see the funny side too
If only it wasn’t
Happening to me.
I yearn for the sky
And how it must look
Elsewhere
Yet, I am not in control
Of my environment
Much less my fate
It was preordained
I merely kept up the strokes
As though it would take me
In a new direction
To a different outcome
The one I dreamt when young.
But now that I’m here
I see that the script was already written
Even in youth.
It doesn’t mean I want this
I’d do anything for an alternate
I am surrounded by surging
Unforgiving seas
Too far gone
For rescue.
The only choice
Is to let go
It’s time for the suffering
To expire.
24.2.25 1.05 am
(I have considered that option far too many times in the past year. With plans to enact. Not good).
Here's a short video I made a year ago from a poem from 2020. I got far worse after this. Can you relate in some way? I've no doubt you can. Some things are universal.
Except for sociopaths. They have no doubts whatsoever. Haha
The second poem in the next post with something positive to end on.
Thank you for reading this far.
AI image of me at work (I always hand-write poems/stories/novels) I hope to return to it when able.
Way back in 1992 I made a short film about a man who loses control of his mind after a series of life blows. Knowing my own mind, it wasn't a large stretch.
Shot in Sydney when I first moved there in late 1991.
I have a new Page on my website for Video adaptions of six of my Stories. All located in the one place. They're all quite different, engaging and unique. Two are true stories.
Plus A New Playlist, Best Songs of 2025. Clearly an ongoing adjustment as the year progresses but many good songs already available right HERE via YouTube.
Watch the very short video HERE first. A little more on the background and context below.
I've written in the past about the rise of Social Justice Warriors and many others who form groups and lay blame in particular directions. Simplistic views with simplistic solutions.
Many of those poems and satire were written when social media was still relatively new. At that time, people were still very much into forming cliques and posting rants. Those groups have evolved. Social media is very much a part of the overall media framework if not more so than the mainstream in terms of numbers and influencing the population. We've seen it transform the world really, when it comes to polarizing society, forming a very much Black and White, Us Vs Them mentality. It has affected Governments, company policy, laws, you name it. No more ambiguity, complexity, rational discourse.
We are more divided than ever. Still it goes on and will likely never change. The arguments continue. Any dissenting voices are blocked and worse, people are cancelled. Entire livelihoods taken away. We've created a world where some are frightened to speak at all, while others have too much power and rule with impunity. Of course, no one includes themselves when casting judgement. The chasm continues to widen.
Hate is easy.
It all started online where it was very easy to simply unfriend someone you didn't agree with. People sought out others who agreed with them on everything. While it had its benefits and many helped others and continues to do so, there were many negatives. Mature discourse is good. Diversity of thought is good. Working together is the aim. We're seeing the opposite in many realms.
I worked part-time in a Nursing Home for five years. This after working in the media for thirty. Needless to say it was a massive eye opener.
I wrote this one day around 2016.
There
are things, worse than death
I contemplate my death
One more time
Too many, to be natural
As the sun dies
And the birds retire
And my gut aches again
Something I’m not sure of
And I know something gets us all
But I hope it’s not that.
A sudden head slump
Heart attack please
No extras
Just make it quick.
Ah I’m sorry sir
But that’s our most requested
And there’s no guarantee of delivery
I’ll have it sooner
Rather than later, I say.
I don’t mind the rush
As long as I don’t end up
With a P.O.W. type frame
Shitting my medically
Administered lunch
As that seems to be against nature
An aberration
And no one wants to go out
As a ‘freak’ of nature
A display too terrible
To lay eyes upon.
If we knew
How’d it be
We’d take matter into our own hands
While we still had the power to use them.
Instead, we take the gamble
And watch the lights dim
Hoping the night doesn’t deliver
A nightmare
Too terrible to be real.
From a Natural News article about Norwegian Homes, 2017
Clearly not everyone ends up in a Home and not all of them are like this. The point being, if you knew that you would end up this way, you'd take matters into your own hands.
Ironically, both of my Grandmother's ended up in Nursing Homes (last resort of course), and both died within two weeks. Neither wanted to be there. The mind is powerful. You can will yourself to die. I said this when my Grandmother went in this year, as she had stated she'd had enough. She died a week later. I also witnessed it multiple times in my work.
Both of my Grandfathers did not end up in homes. Both also died quite suddenly, albeit thirty years apart.
I'm sure you've got your own personal story. Please feel free to share if you wish.
Peace
(And love to my dear Grandparents, Vinnie and Carmel, Stan and Nell. All beautiful, strong people).
I enjoyed making this video. I think it turned out well.
I'm a misery guts haha.
I think I was inspired by my own struggles as a writer to 'make it' in a world where I believed talent alone would be enough to get you noticed. I discovered that it was much more about networking; a large profile, the right 'identity', among other factors.
I did have some successes. A lot of my poems and some stories were published in magazines and online. I pushed on after this poem (2013), but never 'made it' per se but I'm still proud of the work I created. I received great responses from those who have read my work. That's good enough.
Anyway, I saw how many were trying to get in and how many actually did. Same with many industries, particularly the creative fields. So little room. The vast majority won't have the successes they dreamed of. They won't even get a look in. So that's what this poem is all about. The invisible ones who don't get there, no matter what area of life. Even love.
