Darkness.. Poem (dark)

Shadows dance within these walls
Darkened as the daylight falls
Holding me within their grasp
They choke me to my final gasp

Spider in his webb looks on
Thinking of the days long gone
Spinning out the final thread
Watching me till I am dead

You know me through and through and through
Predicting all that I might do
But you I do not know at all
Glaring at me from the wall

I’m done, I say.. You’ve had your way
And as I kneel, I start to pray
Where is your god? You laugh and grin
Left you cold because of sin?

Ha, now I have you all alone
I shall enjoy your every moan
You foolish girl, you had the world
Now into darkness you’ll be hurled

Weight, exercise and that thing called depression.

Exercising when you are depressed is unbelievably hard. But it is true that exercise releases endorphins and is therefore beneficial to anyone suffering depression.

As someone who has been largely housebound for the last three and a half years, but a previous super fit gym addict, my fitness was the final remnant of normality I strived to hold onto. But eventually failed.

It has been hard. So hard, and largely I have been fighting a losing battle. As often as I can fight the depression and the negative demons in my head, I drag myself into a lonely and certainly not air conditioned kitchen..put on some upbeat tunes and do the best I can. Often a long mental battle occurs before I get there, and more often the depression wins and I don’t get there at all.

It hurts to think that three and a half years ago I was super fit and for the first time ever I was OK with my figure. As shallow as that might sound, my entire life since about 9 years old has been obsessed with trying to change my figure. And that’s the headspace I find myself back in right now.

The other thing this loathsome depression has made me do is comfort eat. And gain weight. Because, quite frankly I could exercise every day, but if I’m eating more calories than I’m expending the resulting outcome will be this wobbly blob I currently despise.

I am one of countless people who struggle with their weight. I can’t stand when naturally thin people say things that are judgemental of the overweight. The relationship with food is so often much more than what on paper is so damn simple. It is an emotional addiction. It is plastering over something so much deeper.

Weight loss on paper is a mathematical equation. You merely need to create a calorie deficit by means of healthy eating or exercise, but ideally a mixture of both working together. It sounds so simple. A deficit of 3500 calories will lose you one pound of fat. But when your head and emotions are the obstacle.. It becomes less simple.

I do know what I have to do. I know how to do it and that I have done it before. But what i don’t know is how to stop my comfort eating and how to motivate myself when I feel so low. I’m going to give it my best shot.

I have reached a point of self loathing that could be my new motivation.. I got to the gym on Tuesday for the first time since dad’s diagnosis last October. It was hard, but thanks to the times I have managed to drag myself into the kitchen and workout, I still have a basic fitness level from which I can work. The first time is the hardest. That is done. I plan to go again tonight if I can work past this heavy low feeling. I’m really tired so will probably try and get a sleep first.

My current weight is 10 stone 7.5 (147.5lb). I’ve decided to tell you this so that I can take you on my new journey of exercise and diet until I get back to my ideal weight. Because I will do it. I will. PMA

I am

I am, I exist, I wake up every day
I’m lost in the mist of my own lonely way
I’ve tried many times
Reached as far as I could
Drawn north and then south
Between bad and then good

I had to pretend it would all be ok
To live in a world where I am just a stray
I’ve cried many times
I am broken inside
Born lonely my heart
In the darkness I hide

Mess (poem)

Look here i stand
Dark clothes in dark shadows
And in this peace
My head is thumping loudly
Saying to me
Over and again..

Girl, you’re a mess
Nobody ever liked you
They could not care less
Cos you’re a mess
Just look at you
You look so fat and ugly
Wearing that dress
You dirty mess

There must be more than this..

Life has an unlikely way of feeling both underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time. Small tasks and decisions are too much for me, and yet I yearn to be alive. To live.

I want to be alone, and yet the pain of loneliness kills me on a daily basis. Every song, film or television programme.. Every Facebook post, even just sitting in the garden hearing the neighbours together socialising, enjoying barbecues of a warm evening. I’m always on the outside looking on. That is how my entire life has felt.

I’m in this rut, this self created prison. My entire existence is governed by fear, longing and self loathing. I crave to be loved, but I cannot see myself as lovable. I can’t imagine trusting someone enough to allow them an important part of my life, the mere thought of that makes me feel my vulnerability and causes me to retreat.

Even friendship is alien to me. Sure I’ve had friends over the years, but they have only been people I see here and there rather than close friends who would notice if you are unhappy. The ones I ever did get close to abandoned me eventually, and the pain is not something I want to ever risk repeating.

The only two people I’ve ever known would always be there and who truly cared are my mum and dad. Now Dad has cancer and Mum is not in good health and waiting for a hernia operation. I’m scared. No, terrified.

I don’t remember the last warm physical contact I had. My entire being craves to be held in someone’s sheltering arms. I wish someone could break down the walls I have around me and show me that life can be good. Because there must be more than this.

Negative thoughts and me

I go to bed every night thinking I’ve wasted another precious day. I wake up every morning thinking not another fucking day. That’s my routine. I wake up feeling crap, my eyes hurt, my head hurts and I never want to leave my bed. The things I used to enjoy no longer grab me. Nothing does. I don’t know if there’s any fight left in me. The tasks I would have to undertake to ever live a normal life seem insurmountable to me. Overwhelming. To achieve any of them, I would surely need the will to live. But I seem to have mislaid that shit.

I feel sad a lot. I hate myself a lot. And as always that loneliness doesn’t let up. Yet recently I’ve been avoiding any human contact.. I see I’m not helping myself.. But everything just feels so pointless. I haven’t left the house in ages.

On the most part, Dad is doing well. I’ve been avoiding thinking about his illness as much as I can. I’ve been avoiding everything as much as I can.

I hate that I keep hearing Dad on the phone telling people it is terminal. I don’t want to go there, it’s more than I can bear. When the dreadful time comes.. Unless some miracle happens in the near future.. I think I will have to check out too. God knows.

It might be OK if perhaps one thing had worked out in my pathetic life. Career? Friends who truly care? And oh love, the pièce de résistance. The thing I craved my entire life. Love. Not to mention children, who to me could only be a by-product of aforementioned love.

I believe I had a lot of love to give. I believe I might have been a good mother. I believe my life had so much promise once, all of which I wasted.

I long to wake up one day with a spring in my step and a renewed sense of hope. A new zest for living.

One can but dream..