The fool's dream. Is it me?

 

Everyone's got a sob story.

I've been prone to bouts of melancholia and anxiety as far back as I can remember. There was no such diagnosis in the 70's and 80's, not in rural Australia anyway, and now that I'm in my 50's and still have them as companions, I'm likely stuck with them til the end. Hence this poem. (An image version at the bottom).

Endurance and acceptance are likely the two biggest allies to adopt. If you have additional ones, more than happy to hear them. (I've reluctantly started a new medication, not an anti-depressant and starting counselling this week). 

Therapy through writing.

The fool’s dream

 

I wake with the fear

And fall asleep with hope

Knowing reality

Rarely waits patiently between both.

 

When will I learn

That there’s nothing new to learn?

The fog settled in

A long time ago

I just can’t let go

Of the sweet concept

Of a better tomorrow.

 

It’s the calling

That keeps fools dreaming

Which I should be grateful for

As temporary fantasy

Remains a release

But I recognised the lie

So far back

That I can’t be party to it

Anymore.

 

 

20.9.23 7.20 pm

Edit   27.2.24

 

A.J. Langford Books

I have far more additional stress than September last year, hence the edit in Feb. I guess and the decision to post it now. 

We all have our bullshit to deal with. A lot of mine is within my head. No escaping that.

Anyway, smile and fake it and push on. Fuck it.

Peace.

Online interactions. Good or bad?

Hi,

Funny how times change.

I made this video in 2022. Written in 2020. I seem to care a lot less about it now. I think I'm just disengaging with the world in general. Perhaps because of the dismissive online world. The lack of interest in my work. Ideologies and politics at play. Like you, how I feel about things changes per week. Per day. 

The Good and the Bad

Watch HERE

Overall, I was once a believer. No longer. I've lost faith. (Perhaps off topic from the video but not the above words).

Actually, I've lost nothing. I've learn't things. I'm no longer a dreamer hoping for fantasy. My feelings are based on the simple reality of the past two decades. That's a realist. 

My lack of self confidence (brought on mostly by a working class/country upbringing) plays a strong part. I've seen what a confident middle class person is capable of. One of my teenage best friends was such. I saw how he was. And how I was not. A few years later, at 22, he dragged me overseas when I was terrified at the idea. I stayed two and a half years. I travelled. I learnt. I grew. I owe him a lot. 

And yet I still struggle in my own skin. It's back to childhood folks. As cliche as that is. It's the ultimate truism.

Peace and happiness to you. Cling to whatever you can.

https://anthonyjlangford.wixsite.com/writer/books

More of my Videos

End of life Milestones

 

Misplaced treasures

 

At 79

One tends to spend

More time looking back

Than forward

(perhaps a sign that I need a new hobby).

 

I reflect on key moments

Milestones if you will

And yes,

I did have many successes

In my chosen field

(Or perhaps it chose me)

Yet, there were a plethora

Of setbacks too

Disappointments

(And dare I admit it)

Failures.

 

Still, it's the lost loves

I keep returning to

(Like my ex wife)

And oddly

The ones I never had

Possibilities

That I let slip by

If only I had done x...

 

It’s as though

The work

Which I allowed to consume me

Mattered not at all

And was only there to prop me up

While my real life played-out.

 

If only I’d been more aware of that.

 

The only milestone that really meant anything

Was the moment my only child was born

Without her

I think I’d be a very bitter

And regretful old man today.

 

In those days

Parents didn't spend the sort of

Interactive hours

That people do now

And though I do disagree

On other facets of modern parenting

(Like discipline and structure)

I do regret those missing hours.

 

Those early years especially

Just flew by

I seemed to miss so much.

 

We have made up for it since

I'm a very doting grandparent

Yet, I can't shake off the notion

That the greatest milestones

Are the ones

I never had.

 

 

31.1.21

  

From Us & Them and the things in-between

Speaking of old men, I read this fascinating study about them. It mirrors my experiences while working in a nursing home. Elderly women coped much better with their situation than men. Worth noting too that suicide among men over 75 is the highest bracket of all ages and genders. Read HERE

Usually I write however I'm feeling in the moment but this was written with an eye to a submission. 

Ginninderra Press were doing a call out for poems on the theme of Milestone for a book. I wrote this one. Then decided to write another. It was called Milestoned. I submitted the latter and it was accepted. It was put up near the front, so I was very happy.

I still liked this one so decided to include it in Us and Them. 

There's a new review of the book at Goodreads HERE

A.J. Langford Books

I'm struggling with drug withdrawal and anxiety

Hi,

I don't think I've posted something this personal before. And not this current. Only wrote it a few days ago. I'm hesitant to do as it reeks of self pity but it wasn't written with the intent of sharing. Merely as a means of coping/exploring how I'm feeling. 

(Exacerbated significantly by drug withdrawal. See recent post on my anti-depressant problem).

I'll share it quickly now before I change my mind. 

The struggle

 

Sometimes

Like now

(Increasing in frequency)

I feel like I’ve lost my ability

To write

To create

I’ve lost my drive

And my confidence.

 

Inversely

(If that’s even the right word)

I struggle to cope

With normal life

With work

School runs

Driving anyplace

Facing people

Checking emails

And texts.

 

Fronting up to social media

Pretending everything’s alright

(I need it to promote my work)

Mostly I avoid it

Tired of the façade

Tired of the fear

Tired of the struggle

(Insert more creative phrases).

 

I hope it’s merely

Cymbalta withdrawal

Yet, it’s coming up five years now

So, I forget my prior self

I’m unable to determine

The differences

All lost in the fog.

 

All I know

Is that it’s getting harder

And it feels like

I’m running out of time

As though my body knows

I’m dying

But I haven’t been given

The prognosis yet.

 

Oddly

I don’t appear to mind

I’m not regretful

Or sad

Just tired

So very tired

And a little grateful

For all the good things

That have happened to me

And to my youth

That I enjoyed

And that I have lived fully

Unlike some of my friends.

 

Perhaps more than a little grateful.

 

I do hope

To be free of this poison

And that I many begin to recover

Physically and mentally

And restore

Those aforementioned losses

As I can’t go on like this

Not indefinitely.

 

Today

I’ve slowed my tapering rate

Hoping to improve

My quality of life

As much as I want off

I still have to live

And function

And work

And deal with the swings

Of parenting a teenager

While maintaining our relationship.

 

That’s going to be tough.

 

There are still plenty of highs

And I must keep up appearances, what?

Yet, today I needed to transcribe

The internal conundrums

That is the waking conflict

Against the self.

  

 

24.10.22  7.30 pm

(Not after any pity please. I'm not lamenting my life. I'm quite happy. This is the effect of anxiety AND of anti-depressant withdrawal (PAWS). But if you know someone on anti-depressants, or thinking of taking them, especially Cymbalta, worth sharing).

Worth knowing too that if I'm feeling good I will rarely write about it. I'm getting on with life. While I almost always battle, often if I'm actually at work or with others, I'm okay. I kind of fake it in front of others until I believe it myself. It's when I have to drive, or when I'm on my own or in a stressful situation that it's at it's worst. But it's always there. 

Example, the tinnitus, brain fog etc is 24/7. The anxieties are bearable most of the time. Sometimes I have to pop a valium or lay on the couch. I've been trying breathing meditation and cool showers. I don't drink alcohol anymore and have cut back on sugar and coffee. (A lot of sugar definitely increases anxiety). 

Exercise, sleep, diet, all these things help. Which is the approach doctors should be taking to treat people, not just shoving a fucking pill down their throats. The pill which has now increased my problems, not made them better. (Original Cymbalta post here. )

Something to be said for pushing through too. But there sure are times when nothing works. 

Where I do all my writing, (always handwrite) with the current poetry book.

No more navel gazing! Thanks for your patience. 

I hope to be off this drug by the end of 2023. But I may have to slow down, like I'm doing right now. Just to stabilise and hope I'll feel a bit better.  It's exhausting living with constant anxiety. 

My diverse story and poetry collection Us & Them should have been out by now but should be out in two weeks maximum. 

Please get yourself or a friend a copy as I'm not doing any new writing now aside from the odd poem. This will be the last book for some time.

The book we need right now

My Books

Take care

Peace

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