100 Sad Days; Day 52: Belittling Voices

Those internal incessant voices

Are your repeated words

They are the horrible things said

That I should never have heard

They repeat themselves overtly

And burn within my heart

Until I can only hear them

And they slowly tear me apart

I can be on my own completely

Or smiling within a crowd

The sun could be shining brightly

Or I could be under a storm cloud

They start to strangle me

And cloud my busy mind

Until I can't but help to wish

My mind be free my body left behind

Comments

Blue Monday 2024 - Memories of Dad

You’ve heard of sleeping policeman. Well my dad was the cooking policeman. Growing up I was so proud to have a dad that was a policeman. His job always sounded so cool and exciting. Then there was his ability to follow a recipe (the same one time and time again). He made an amazing macaroni cheese (the best), shepherds pie, lamb curry (from scratch) and oh my goodness the Devil’s food cake - four storeys of ultimate chocolate cake! I loved to be able to talk about the fact that he was born in India. That he was brought up in South Africa. That he had a three-legged cheetah as a pet. Stories of sat on a wall eating mangoes with monkeys Dad was also a knitter - having learnt from his grandma. And I can remember our loop cardigans and the waistcoats he knitted. Duchess, our dog, brought home after night shift. The fish tanks and trips to all of those aquatic centres Being a South African, he loved his tech. He always had the newest gadget (oh that satellite dish) and a cool car

January’s got the Blues

Seven years ago I watched as January allowed pancreatic cancer to steal my mum’s zest for life. Over the course of the first three months of 2017 we lost my mum slowly. And painfully. Gracefully, and peacefully. Cancer, COPD, mental illness and dementia have gradually, over a much longer period, eroded the man that my dad once was. In some cases he has become a happier, more fun-loving grandad than he was a father, but in another he is just the husk of the man that could fix ANYTHING. A technology-loving, recipe-following, policeman. January 2024 bears witness to another parent’s dwindling life as I see the fear in his eyes. Yet I am pleased that he still remembers who I am, my name. I hate the sadness and pain in everyone’s face, the tears in their eyes. I hate, even more, the pleading for help, knowing he would rather be, and should be allowed to be, at peace. New year. New grief. Constant reminder that the world keeps turning and time keeps on ticking.

LuluSLR: What depression means to me (first published in July 2014)

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression. She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed. Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling. However my short periods would get longer

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