Dustwun Then Disappearing Without a Trace

Well, I’ve left it some time haven’t I? Apologies for that. As a result, this post is a bit long and rambling, but I’ve some time to make up for, and I’m sure you’ll forgive me that.

I’m afraid I went on a steep downer at the beginning of November about the size of the ‘big dipper’ in Blackpool, if indeed it’s called that any more, the big dipper that is. I realised when I got to the end of the blog what actually triggered it. It’s useless to go into that as you most likely wouldn’t understand. Athough I left the Jehovah’s Witness cult 15 years ago, I found out something else that they lied about, and it was a big deal for me, really important and close to my heart. I cried for 2 days at first, then on and off over the following weeks. That was that – the ‘black dog’ got ahold of me once more.

I filled my time by researching the back stories of some ex JWs on youtube; one particular person, jwFairy Tale – so very talented – has just stopped posting on his channel. His stories of the things that JWs got up to is shocking, as is the psychological state it has left him in; it’s heartbreaking. When you’ve been affected so badly by the cult, it must be hard to keep reminding yourself of the torture; that’s why he stopped I guess. Well worth a look, especially following the series of videos from the ‘oldest to newest’ that he named ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses # (and the number)’. He’s a bit wild at first, but that calms down somewhat; he’s quite funny too, using stuffed animals called ‘jehovahbear’and ‘jehovahcow’, also his cat, named ‘jehovahcat’.

I like watching series of things when I’m low. I recently found out that the podcast ‘Serial‘ started again last Thursday. The first series – about a prison inmate who said he was innocent of a murder – was featured every day on Radio 4, and it was fascinating. Americans are so good at podcasting like this; it’s not an ad hoc type of thing, but a professional undertaking. If you can get hold of the first series, you’ll be hooked! The current series deals with the story of the soldier who went walkabout and was captured by the Taliban. The first episode, ‘Dustwun’, is available now and it continues each Thursday.

Other things that have taken up my time? Well, 5 weeks ago tomorrow I became a ‘moo-naa grandmamaaa’, which you would think had cheered me up no end, but you know, depressed people can still seem happy to the outside world; it’s a finely honed skill that you develop over the years.With already being so low, I found myself comparing my circumstances with my daughter’s when she was born, and it brought back all of the suffering we went through under Thatcher. Despite being a working family we went without food on many occasions, and never could afford heating or most of the necessities of life; it was hell on our personal earth. I know that my daughter was also thinking about this. She said, ‘it’s made me realise how hard it must be to cope when you have no family support and you’re also poor’; we both knew that she was talking about our situation. Little love; though she’s done very well for herself, she never forgets what it’s like for the poor, and she acts accordingly.

All in all, I couldn’t continue writing on this blog; creativity tends to cease up when the depression runs very deep, so it’s harder to pretend and produce something: in fact you cannot pretend. There’s additionally only so much ‘I’m depressed’ that you can keep writing about without becoming stuck in a depressive loop. I learned my lesson from earlier in the year when I was trying to start writing again, but each page descended into the same babble about how ill I was: who wants to read that?

Consequently, this time around I had to stop writing, reading the blogs, barely touched the online news, and distanced myself from a certain closed forum where we discuss anything from other dimensions to current events. I avoided negative people like the plague. Did that help? It certainly did in that it ceased feeding into the depressive spiral that you get stuck in; I was still trapped in the whirlpool though.

I’ve also been fed up with myself in my attempts to give up smoking. For obvious reasons I need to stop, primarily due to the ‘heart condition’ I’ve developed, but the effort sent me into melt down. Trying to give up when you’re already deeply depressed wasn’t a good idea. I had to see my G.P. yesterday to inform her about the hospital appointment last week, and my stomach was turning over like I was about to see the headmaster about a misdemeanor. My G.P. seemed quite short with me last time, and I don’t blame her as I should give up, but it’s never that simple. I brought it up with her yesterday, and she was actually really kind about it. She must have seen that I couldn’t take a telling off this time around.

You see, when I’ve given up before I’ve had various things that I could just throw myself into: work; decorating; horse riding; ‘bottoming’ the house; gardening; walking; writing; days out; swimming; painting; song writing; reading; playing my instruments etc etc. I’m just looking at the list above right now, and the shock at what I’ve lost remains with me. Over the space of 20 years, little by little, I became unable to do these things, the final one last year being painting. Now I have been writing on here, but due to my health, it was always going to be intermittent. I suppose I don’t value it as being a serious undertaking, as perhaps it doesn’t count as ‘writing’, but it’s basically ‘keeping my hand in’.

I really am not making excuses for myself, but believe me when I say that from previous experience you do have to occupy yourself if you want to give up smoking; sitting back on a sofa all day feeling desperately ill as I do, doesn’t help you take your mind off things. I’m in practice though, and I’m not ‘giving up giving up’. I have a day off, see how long that I can go – a day and a half at present – and I’m sure that at some point I will have cracked it again. It may be too late to improve my health now; I’m hoping not.

Depression never stays on-subject unfortunately, so the things you desperately try to keep at bay on a daily basis start to crush you as well: feelings of no hope; corruption in the world/state of the world; feeling of no control; monotony of being ill; insecurity of life etc etc. I also hate this time of year, the dreaded christmas period. I think of all the families who have nothing, facing a christmas having to explain to their children why no presents have arrived, or getting themselves into debt with loans that will mean they’re poor all year. The relentless unrealistic materialistic adverts displaying the ‘ideal christmas’, and how that makes people feel who are alone or who are very poor. The combined trickery of religion and commerce that ironically makes christmas anything but holy.

If my neighbour and dear friend didn’t celebrate, perhaps she’d be able to afford more coal each winter rather than the pitiful fire that would make scrooge blush. She might even be able to afford to put the central heating on. She might not have to scrimp all year to pay her bills. But no, she’ll take out another loan this year and accept the consequences – all for some made up manipulative festival brought about to make money out of poor people, and the rich of course: but then they can afford it.

Don’t get me wrong, when I left the Jehovah’s Witnesses I threw myself into christmas too, stupidly getting myself into debt, but I did it for other people not myself, although hypocritically, I still bought extra food and drink in; I’m not that bothered any more, having lost my appetite completely. I suppose that I’m a sucker like everyone else then! I don’t put decorations up however; I have an ‘all year round tree’, literally a tree trunk that I hang lights off and candle holders. I’ll buy family a few token gifts and hand out cards. I try to find winter scenes that are blank inside, although I couldn’t find any online this year; the most I will tolerate is ‘season’s greetings’ inside the card. Everyone knows my stance on the matter, and most of us feel the same in any case. I don’t buy anything that is useless for people, and they’re presents that I would have bought anyway. The best thing about it for me is that there is no post, and anyone in a certain situation knows what I’m talking about.

After christmas I have the joy of a ‘chemical stress test’ to look forward to in the Department of Nuclear Medicine! The cardiologists – bless them (or not as the case may be) – are still holding onto the idea that it’s a spasm. The fact that I’ve had chest spasms before, and that the symptoms are nothing like angina doesn’t seem to be getting through. I get the feeling they think that someone couldn’t possibly have endured the pain that I have without calling an ambulance, but I’m used to extreme pain. You have to be with a long term condition because the stronger pain killers just become addictive. We’ll see though. They’ve made me wait very much longer than I should have if I do indeed have a serious heart problem; it will be 6 months in when I have the test, whereas someone with a suspected heart condition should have had these tests far earlier in the process.  I was thinking about it the other day, how I kept packing a hospital bag before each G.P./hospital appointment thinking, ‘this time they’ll surely admit me’: I don’t bother any more.

So I dunno. I kept thinking at the weekend that I should check into the blog soon if I felt a little better (today I do), and see if I have anything to say; I wasn’t sure if I did, but a certain phrase was stuck in my head, so I thought I’d give it a go, and as it happens, it seems that I’ve said quite a lot!

I guess there are as many blogs nowadays than stars visible by the human eye; if one goes missing nobody really notices. You keep checking your favourite blog for a while, then finally a notice appears saying that it’s gone. Like a missing star, if you’re no expert you wouldn’t know, you’d just focus on a different constellation and start to forget. I didn’t want it to be like those blogs that shine for a while, go dustwun, then disappearing without a trace.




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