sometimes often nearly always

Sometimes, Often, Nearly Always: Disaster and Demons

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Sometimes it seems as though everything I touch, or do, turns to disaster. I just can’t stand it.

My failures, it seems far outweigh any success, and it really knocks me hard, especially when my state of mind is teetering on that knife edge of darkness and light.

Does this sound familiar?

It’s an awful place to be, and, it leaves me thinking…

Maybe I should just stop trying

As I was originally writing this, I was supposed to be seeing some really close friends for an afternoon and evening of fun and conversation.  Yet, in the aftermath of failing to make a fix on the car – which I feel, as an engineer, I ought to be more than competent at doing – I couldn’t bear the thought of socialising.

Sometimes the pressure, which I place on myself, to appear happy, positive and “light” in mood, added to feeling like a complete idiot, was just suffocating.

So, maybe I should just stop trying? The downward spiralling question that follows this is about living and the common sense of continuing.

Self Confidence…sometimes

My self confidence is so fragile. I just do not want to be with anyone. In this state of mind, I cannot see a way through this quagmire of self failure. Such a relatively tiny defeat feels and leaves me doubting anything and everything.

life is fragileThe Past, The Present, and NO Future

As the subtitle suggests, for me, there is no future. The past lingers with “unhealed injuries” a-plenty. I refer to physical and emotional wounds that, in this terrible state of depression, rather than fade, get amplified in my memory.

Demons.

The present leaves me aching for relief through the medium of alcohol.

The List

I turn to my pen and paper to try to exorcise my tormentors, for they are so many.

I think of my recent efforts in Thailand and Burma to bring relief to some refugee families, and it seems to me as though, if anything, I caused more harm than good.

Thinking of my various endeavours in Kenya, and I stab myself with the question: did anything I do make any difference at all? No.

The many years and financial struggle I went through to visit my children every month for 9 years. How has that ended up? I am no longer a part of their lives and haven’t been for 5 years now. That’s a categorical failure.

My early working life as an apprentice. What a failure.

I think of my hopes for the Jacob Project, and how significantly underwhelming the use of that has been.

My failure as a Husband in my earlier life.

Sometimes, even the minutiae of fixing stuff around the house and with the cars is disastrous.

Kindness

Many folks would say, with sincerity and kindness, that this is all a warped viewpoint and that my state of mind is causing this distortion.

Some may say, that running a business for nearly thirty years and providing an income for many families over these years etc etc. But, in my current state of being, the truth is anyone could do that.

My Partner lovingly says to me, “In my eyes you will never be a failure”.

I’ve destroyed dear friendships and relations with various family members. I have hurt many many people, with my acid tongue, and this seems to perpetuate, continually.

I seem never to learn. The turbulence of disaster that I leave in my wake is continual.

The Kindness that is poured on me is like water off a ducks back. I am deaf and blind emotionally, and can see no good in anything that I have tried to do.

Yes, the trail of disaster goes on.

brokenWhen will this end?

I ask this question of myself, but even that is terribly disingenuous. I know this will end when my life ends.

The sad fact is that I am just a coward. If I was even half of a man I’d do something about this horrid scourge that I represent in mine and other people’s lives.

Gone Full Circle

I’ve been here so many times. The life I have lived has gone full circle so many times I have lost count. I have tried many times to combat this “thief”.

Why “thief”?

Because every single time I hit the deck with desperation, a part of my soul and heart is stolen. The step-by-step decay of my essence, perhaps is meant to be, until there is nothing left…

Prose

The fall-back position for me is just a reclusive retreat into the black.

In this place I try to atone for my “dirty life”, and through abstract writing, call the demons to a fight to the death.

Post Script

One may well ask, “What on earth is the point of writing this stuff?” The truth is I really do not know. I could say something like, “it gives an insight into the depressed mind of someone who is really fucked up”, or some such description. But the reality is I do not know anymore.

I wish you all well, and a life of peace.

The Nothing Man

AKA Jacob

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