It's me again!

Not one of my better days. Hoping I'd get clearance from a health problem that's cropped up but I've got to go back again for another test which is a real pain. Well, not literally because it's just a scan but it's all the not knowing. I seem to have had a time of it recently what with kidney problem,  liver problem, overactive thyroid back again and now this one. 

Anyway, a slight (but inexcusable) feeling of self-pity gave me a chance to revisit some of my old private writings when I was suffering badly after  I was told I was basically burned-out. Scary stuff indeed but incredibly powerful to re-read once more and undoubtedly the best work I've ever done. I've previously documented that period in my life but, traumatic as it was, I felt so alive. All my senses were heightened and it was as if this dam had burst and a million thoughts, buried for so long, came spewing out of my head. It's hard to write now. Perhaps my photography has fulfilled that side of me or perhaps, once more, I need to experience some cataclysmic emotional episode to break through the repressions and barriers I build in my head? I guess the fact I am actually writing once more - something which once was a daily part of my life - is indicative of some upheaval or confusion but hopefully this will be a peaceful manifestation and not a precursor to my own version of Vesuvius.

I have changed since those days some 12 years ago. It's been a hard journey but I now accept my own worth and my own ability although hearing praise from others is still a very uncomfortable feeling at times. I have also accepted that there is life still out there for the taking and that I am answerable to nobody but myself. If someone or something upsets me, displeases me, bores me or has a negative impact on my life then I can walk away and that's an immensely liberating feeling. I am beholden to nobody apart from a very few friends and family. My old self was bound by duty and putting everybody else first - either because of the way I was brought up or because I just wanted to be liked. Actually, that's not quite true. Far more important than being liked was not being disliked! Hmmm, interesting point.

Oh dear, is this introspection a good thing? Cathartic? Catastrophic? Only time will tell. Will I regret publishing it? Nah, nobody made you read it but something made me write it so it's as simple as that.

I'll leave you with something I wrote back in those days.  Although published before, I still like to read it now and again. It's called "Untitled":

We come from nothing, through love or lust.
A brief respite here, then on to dust.
That moment in time when we’re given life
To use, or to lose on the point of a knife.
We’re nurtured from birth, ideas formed, thoughts created.
Allowed to mature, learning passion and hatred.
The Rights of Man, the freedom of choice
Mountains to climb, opinions to voice.
But how does it feel when you know it’s a lie?
From that battle of birth you’ve started to die?
The meaning is empty and nothing is sure
Your constant companion’s to feel insecure.
You scream out for comfort, for someone to hold,
But know in your heart (which ever grows cold)
That love will not find you,

All you do is grow old.