Forty Two

Maybe because I am making my way towards this birthday milestone, the number has been on my mind recently. 

Way before I ever read the hitch hikers guide to the galaxy, the number held a mystical enchantment over my psyche.

In my formative years I was plagued by recurring nightmares. Whilst most could be diagnosed or rationalised as elements of an unfortunate childhood filled with emotional and physical violence, there was one that continued on throughout adolescents and well into my thirties.

In this dream, I am forty two years old and making my way through the laneways of Melbourne with friends who I cannot ever identify outside the dream but I perceive within it to be close. We are jovial and making our way between venues when I was hear something from inside one of the alleyways that makes me think someone needs help.

So I leave the group and make my way down the alley to see who needs assistance and *flash* my world goes white and with a sensation that my life has ceased I usually awake with a start.

Why this nightmare? Why that age? I have never been able to interpret it. I still have the nightmare, though thankfully less often than my younger years. So vivid are the images that I can practically replay it at will, but no matter my attempts to alter scenario with lucid dreaming, cognitive behavioural techniques and meditation have been fruitless.

I am no longer the naive and superstitious youth I once was, but I have wondered if it is a premonition of apropos shearing my thread on the wheel of fate.

It still triggers my thanatophobia every time I recall it, nonetheless.


8 Life lessons from a not quite 40 year old recovering mess

If you have followed this blog for any period of time, you’ll know about my depression and issues. You’ll also know that I tend to be on and writing here when I am in my darkness. I wrote this on another blog today, one where I am far more positive on a regualr basis. I think I need to put it here as well, because sometimes it is failing to heed the content of these lessons that cause the shadows …


Continue reading “8 Life lessons from a not quite 40 year old recovering mess”

Beating my addictions …

I look back at my days of using. In hindsight, it is easy to see the patterns. The self loathing. The slow but sure erosion of life. The destruction I was bringing on to myself. Each time I partook, it was an expression of self-hate. Self Harm. Suppression. Denial.

Continue reading “Beating my addictions …”

someone else’s depiction of my depression

The following is a post written by someone I like to call a friend who I have known online for over 4 years now. Her piece is poignant and relevant, and I think worth re-blogging for others to read. Continue reading “someone else’s depiction of my depression”

The truth? The truth? You can’t handle the truth!

Read on, if apparently, you believe otherwise.

Continue reading “The truth? The truth? You can’t handle the truth!”