Hello there, I pray that this reaches
you in decent spirits today. I apologise for the six day hiatus, I hope that
time spent away from you, my oh so precious White Voider, is minimised in the
future.
Now,
what is there to say, apart an open display of honesty? I really am glad to be
with you again, because I’ve just splurged all of my finances on a hedonistic
bender! I feel abso-bloody-lutely rotten empty and hollow! As always, however,
I’ll pull myself back into something that resembles a normal level of
functioning. By the grace of God, understand…
As
is per usual when I am trying to bounce back from a spiritual clothesline (that
stiff arm wrestling move), words are proving a struggle to come by. I just want
to curl into a ball and pour my soul out in a tearful lament. But moping gets
you nowhere. What does 50cent do, when times get hard for him? He doesn’t
whinge and ball. He gets more G-Unit. When the going gets
tough, and all that…
I’m
almost sure you’re not interested in all the saddening dreary dismal minutiae of
a life not lived. You’re probably like me, someone who clings to the positive.
I attend a weekly therapy group called Positive Thoughts each week. It’s led by
a woman named Sue. She comes across as such a strong and happy woman that it is
almost scary. I sure wouldn’t like to cross her. She has some very decent
ground rules for the group which everyone respects. I know of other groups
where people are playing on their mobile phones while people are talking.
It
is a small pipe dream of mine to perhaps run my own group one day, because I’ve
been going along to them for so many years now. I think it would have to be
based around psychosis. I’ve lined up the perfect partner to co-facilitate it
with me. She’s only a young girl but she knows what she’s talking about and she
has a heart of gold.
We’d
discuss fracturing of the mind and things like that, go all Mk-Ultra and Spirit Realm-y. If other young people attended with real problems
it would be exceptionally therapeutic for all concerned. I know a guy named
Duncan who suffers from Health Anxiety who started his own group off. He said
it sank like a lead welly but at least he gave it a go.
Duncan
complains at lengths about things like moles and boils. Like me you might find
this…what is the word here…irrelevant? Insignificant? I can’t quite think of
the word I’m looking for. Anyway, to him, Health Anxiety means constantly
overthinking about morbid thoughts relating to death. When he put it like that,
I gained a newfound respect for his condition.
G-Unit
has no time for depression.
To
give Duncan credit, he always does something to act on any new fears which
might arise, like booking online visits to health clinics after googling the
ins-and-outs of what he’s worried about. That’s half of the problem, he admits.
Usually, men don’t want to talk about any physical ailments they might be
harbouring. When I got involved in a ruckus at my mate’s 18th Birthday
Party, my nose got broken. It has been partially crooked ever since, but I
hardly ever even think about it, not even when I’m looking at it shaving in the
mirror. We’ll talk about anything but the crux of the problem, as this blog
demonstrates.
I
could go into the severe stresses of life I face on a daily basis, but I’m a
man, and men don’t talk. Not unless they are lucky enough to have a personal
online White Voider, who listens to everything they have to say. Yippee!
My new literary recruit Amber (11 year old neighbour), is still pumping me for ideas. She wants something of merit to put on her future blog. I’ve suggested she get a picture of herself with her English teacher or something. I recommend she get herself into fishing so she can get herself a fishing photo too. They’re so mantelpiece-y, fishing photos. I have one myself, holding my first fish. A 12-pounder, I think. Maybe I’ll let you see it one day. x
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