I know it's just a date on the calendar....

.....BUT I want it to be the 1st of January 2017.

My own life has been a tad troublesome this year, but fades into nothing beside what has happened in the world outside.

I hope, but don't expect things to be better next year. Many people seem to be waking up to the need for social change. I think it could be difficult.

The chinese curse 'May you live in interesting times' seems appropriate for life today, but the Chinese may get through the year ahead better than some of us.

I'm learning to fret less but that has made me withdraw from many things.Somehow I need to be active but with some detachment, not easy.
I'm not making any resolutions because that seems guaranteed to make ideas fail.
I shall take optimism as my watchword, but fill the sandbags just in case.

I'm bored with writing this twaddle so that's it for now.

The End of 2016 ....Hooray

I doubt I'm alone in feeling happier now this year is fast fading.

The second half of my year was: July bad, August appalling, September bad, October and November slow and steady improvement, December a bit wobbly.

I don't want to remember this year so mentally I'm going from 2015 straight to 2017, not passing 'GO' on the way.

Seasonal Felicitations.
See you on the other side.

Haven't written.....oh how surprising

Not a thing. My 'creative' brain, if I possess such a thing, has buggered off somewhere along with  my sense of self worth. Serves me right for putting all my eggs in the one basket.

I've been on the slide again. For a long while I was busy with politics, totally absorbed more like, ever since the run up to the General Election last year. At that time I was full of optimism and was sure that rewards come just because you exert effort. I pushed lots of effort at the EU debate. I thought of almost nothing other than Europe for several months and talked and talked and talked.

Then came the Referendum result and I could NOT believe it, for days I wandered around this foreign land that used to be my country. It felt like those awful centripetal fairground rides they used to call 'The Wall of Death' where you spun round inside a big wooden drum. You'd go faster and faster then they dropped the floor away and you were pinned to the wall with emptiness below your feet.

Now after a lot of angst, big depressive waves and panic attacks I am coming round to deal with the new order.
I'm not giving up. I've invested a lot of emotional capital in this 'experiment' that Labour mps seem to think doomed to failure. Well it isn't. Mr Corbyn is still there and others like me are still supporting him. I still believe we can make good changes in this country; maybe our chances will even improve once the fairy-dust falls from Brexit eyes. Everything is up for grabs and it may yet all turn out for the best. But I need something else as well.

I must start writing again. I need my inner world functioning and giving me strands of ideas to play with. I need the discipline and the accomplishment of small goals.

So come back please Creativity, I have need of you and I'm truly sorry that I pushed you out of the door.
I will start some words this weekend. Dunno what yet, but I will stare at paper and try to see shapes form.

Some steps forward despite several backward falls.

This blog's gaps show how much my state of mind affects everything else. The battle to think clearly and imaginatively while walking a tightrope continues.

I won't bore anyone with the negative details. I'll only mention the positive stuff:

I had some, free sessions with a mental health worker that helped because she seemed to think that I'm a reasonably nice person. She might have been saying that because positive reinforcement is part of her job but it did help.

 When the sessions stopped I felt bad again, but told my family that I have ongoing mental health issues. They didn't run away screaming so that was ok.

Out of spite my IBS returned, but I'm dealing with that and mostly staying healthy.  

I'm trying meditation which is helping when I remember to do it.

Berst of all, I re-wrote a short story from a few years back and I've entered it in a competition. It won't even make the shortlist, but the real success is that I actually submitted something and I still feel good about it.

If only Summer would get here....................