An extract from my life writing creative piece

17 Mar

It’s 8pm. If I’m going to make the 8’30pm train I really have to leave in the next ten minutes. I try to will my legs to move but they won’t. They won’t because my mind is set. It’s set and there’s a resolve there that has never been there before. I’m not going out tonight. It’s come right down to the wire as usual. The same question I always ask myself before departing for a night out is going round in circles inside my mind – ‘stay or go, stay or go?’ – the fight or flight reflex crashing into my consciousness. The flight reflex has always had the upper hand in the past – ‘You have to go, you’re committed now, you can’t rock the boat, they’re expecting you, you can’t just not turn up, the tickets have been bought’ – but tonight my legs still aren’t moving, so it continues – ‘they’ll be angry, you’ll be letting everyone down’ – I don’t care tonight, my position is set, I’m actually staying in, not only that….I cannot finish the thought, the flight reflex pipes up again – ‘do you really want to go down this road? Do you honestly think you’re tough enough, you’re weaker then you have ever been’ – I really am weaker than I have ever been, and for that truly bizarre reason, I think I am tough enough. You back a dog into a corner, even one that has never barked in anger before and make him truly believe you mean him harm, he aint going quietly. I’m not going quietly. Tonight the fight reflex wins. I pick up my phone, type out a message quickly, letting it go from my mind through my fingertips into the phone like a stream of consciousness, not allowing myself to think, just getting it done.

To: Simon

Date: 09/03/2013

Time: 8:06pm

Bruv my heads gone man i can’t face going out. Sorry mate not trying to annoy u guys but im properly unhappy. Will pay for my ticket. Been feeling fucked for time, feel like i want/nd to talk to some1 but cant with my mates. Drink don’t help. Im happier when im alone at the moment, gona switch my fone off for a couple days, il be on emails tho. Im just telling Lana that something came up. X

 

Ground Zero

I really did send that message and I really did turn off my phone, albeit for longer than “a couple days.” I had never spoken in such a way to a friend before. Reading it back there’s definitely elements of a ‘cry for help’ but more overtly it is me laying the groundwork to be able to come out and be open and honest with the people closest to me. The root cause behind this rather bizarre opening is depression. Depression with bi-polar tendencies to be accurate. I recently turned 27 and whilst the thought that I had crept over into the ‘late 20’s’ chapter of my existence really holds no sway over my outlook on life, there had been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction swirling round my mind for a few months. This dissatisfaction stemmed from the understanding of a fact that was at turns corrosive, disheartening and, in a plain simple word, sad. To put a time frame on how long “feeling fucked for time” is, the answer is nigh on ten years. Ten. Years. A decade.  What were you doing ten years ago? How much have you changed in that time? I’d wager you’ve changed A LOT. I know I have – except for one thing.

The actual idea for a memoir came about from an essay I had to do for my life writing class. In the course of this essay and class I came across definitions for things such as memoir, diary, autobiography. Definitions for things that I had taken for granted that I knew, such as

An autobiography tells the story of a life, while memoir tells a story from a life. Memoir is more about what can be gleaned from a few years or a moment in the life of the author.

Correct me if I am mistaken but my struggle with depression is certainly a ‘moment in the life’. Now of course I could speak retrospectively about my depression and work my way to present day, using that as a basis for a memoir and you and I can glean from that what we will. That to me though seems a rather hollow premise with an unsatisfying resolution along the lines of ‘and as I write the last words of this memoir, I am still riddled with depression. Take care everyone.’ Not exactly positive, not that everything and every story in life is necessarily positive.

 

I shall add more at a later datemeaning-of-life

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2 Responses to “An extract from my life writing creative piece”

  1. Mind of Andy March 17, 2013 at 8:13 pm #

    Powerful stuff! I really enjoyed reading it 🙂

    • vincentnorwood March 17, 2013 at 8:18 pm #

      cheers mate, just had a quick look at the front page of your blog, very interesting stuff I’ll be sure to read some of your posts.

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