The personal battle

Symmetry in chaos

Aren't some of our biggest battles in life ultimately with ourselves? Our attitudes. Our responses to things. And perhaps the biggest thing of all, our moods.

Others can make life hard, sure. Events happen out of our control. How we deal with it, determines so much.Yet, no matter whats going on, we can't escape ourselves.The below was written in a bit of a slump earlier this year.

(Warning, navel gazing ahead). A poem about my anxiety and drinking. Written not as a reflection, but in the moment, as it's described.

Respite, if in passing

I sit on a bar stool

Near the back

Sipping my first beer

My legs are tingling

Regret already loves

The stink in the air.

Anxiety has driven me here

Depression is to claim me tomorrow

But it’s been bogging me down for days

So, I drink and wait

For the relief to kick in.

I rise for another beer.

It’s January

I’m responsibility free

Work has dried up

No early mornings

To endure.

The devil shines

In down time

He snares with temptation

And I am weak

Without the weight

Of substantial sobriety behind me.

A classic cyclical curse

A baton passing bestowed

A tit for tat

Rhythmic dance

As is the ebb and flow

Of everything

Creating its own symmetry in chaos

Like a steady pulse

Traversing the struggles of the individual

Over a lifetime

Crossing paths with others

On their similarly painted fate

Some more ordained than others

Passing into genetics

And cultures

And countries

Destined to relive the past

As we all do

Without realising.

If we were to step back

And examine our youth

We’ll see how much of now

Was planted then.

Whether we were born that way

Or moulded

Is perhaps irrelevant.

It won’t save us

Nothing will

My only hope, is to recognise

The Peace when it comes

And enjoy its brevity.

For today

I needed that reminder.

(Jan 2020)

*The drinking, I've been dealing with since the age of 17. Long story. (I'm currently not drinking).

The anxiety/depression started a lot earlier. (in those days, undiagnosed. It made for difficult teen years). Apologies if this sounds like a whine. We all have our own problems. My book is out and I'm happy. Yet there are many hours in a day. It's not always easy. Is it ever really?

The Debut Novel: Lone Wolf World