I had a bit of a mental health wobble over the weekend in which I felt useless and unworthy. Thankfully this is old ground and over the years I have developed a few techniques to get myself past it. Techniques that don’t involve blocking it out by drinking myself silly or just ignoring it. These things will not be ignored so it’s best to address them as and when they come up or at least as soon as the spoons become available. Poetry is one of those devices. I try to tell myself my trauma in iambic pentameter or rhyme it out or somesuch. Certainly trying to re-structure how I phrase my feelings gifts me with a different angle to look at them from and can provide different paths I can take.
Life
Everyone seems to be better at this
Better at this than me
At least they are putting on a good face
For all the world to see.
Does anyone really know what they’re at,
Know what they’re at at all?
Pyrrhic achievements declared with bombast
Ignoring wherwithal.
