What's up?

I thought that I'd better let you guys know (well the guys that read the blog that is) that it's now basically the close of the season. I am utterly exhausted to my bones and have only one more confirmed trading engagement this year.
I can feel myself swinging backwards on that big pendulum towards the dark time of the year and I'm not just talking about the amount of sunlight in evidence. There isn't much I can do about it unfortunately. I did have my request granted for some more intensive CBT, but I was late for my first appointment which consequently was cut short (for obvious reasons) and my re-scheduled first session was cancelled on me due to illness.
I'm going to Brighton this weekend with my lovely missus which should shrink the dog a little.

What has got me like this you ask? To be honest, I dunno. I seem to go in waves. Which reminds me, (on a more than slightly oblique note) I finally understand Pink Floyd's The Wall now... Listening to it at a low ebb was a hell of an eye opener.

Sorry, what was I saying? Oh yes. waves. It's all or nothing at the moment. there doesn't seem to be regularity to it unfortunately and I can't measure it to see when my danger periods are. If I am going through the high intensity CBT, it may become more evident, I dunno.

One more potential magic gig this year too... Hopefully, I will be performing at Whitby in the rifle club. I won't be trading, so might just come for a day or so. I was maybe hoping that I might be asked to another event to perform, but that wasn't to be and they got another act in instead which did sting a little, but it's understandable as I am in no way up to the standard of this act.

What else is up?

Ummm... Not sure... Work continues and I get out of it what I put in basically. While there are no students around, it's difficult to get motivated and I must confess to mooching about doing a bit of tidying here and there without much in the way of conviction. Leatherworking is going to be taking a back seat for the coming year and I might do one or two events, but not on the scale that I have been doing it over the past few years. I think I would prefer to work on stuff that I want to work on rather than stuff I feel that I have to work on for the benefit of the stall...

I did enter a piece into the exhibition for judging at the Asylum this year. I thought it was pretty good (I'm now using it as my regular rucksack) When I went to collect it, I was asked not to exhibit any more as my stuff is becoming a little too well known. That made me feel good for a while as people are getting to know my style, but then it sent me downwards thinking that innovation has suffered as a result of the stall and feeling as though I need to make stuff that is marketable rather than stuff that stimulates my head. That's one of the major reasons why I'm not trading much in the coming year. I want to re-evaluate why I do what I do and how.

I'm staying off facebook for a little while as I see only the negatives now and the news has been bringing me down for a while... It's OK, I just need to climb the pendulum a little bit to make sure that the waves become shorter.

This one's going to be rough. Sorry in advance

OK, I make no apologies for this blog post (obviously apart from the one in the title). I've been mulling it over for a while and something that Derren Brown posted a link to this morning galvanised my resolve to do it.

As I say, I've been umming and ahhing for a while about it because it is very personal to me and something that I had blocked out for the majority of my adult life. In fact, I only remembered about it when a memory was triggered last year and the whole story came tumbling out to my long suffering wife.

I don't want any sympathy for this, it happened, I blocked it out, I remembered it and I moved on. This is a catharsis thing. (Again with the catharsis thing Dude! Give it a rest why don't you?)

So here it is...

My dad used to watch the wrestling on Saturday afternoon every week with Giant haystacks and big daddy and brian Jacks et al. When I was in primary school, there was a guy that used to hang around the school gates talking to parents trying to publicise his wrestling club, he had a very old fashioned mutton chop moustache thing going on and looked quite charismatic and eccentric. Friends of friends said not to have anything to do with him as he was a dirty man. At this point, I can only picture him in a grubby mackintosh now, even though I am sure he never wore one as the parents would've surely beaten him away from their kids if he looked so dirty... Maybe it's my memory playing tricks and I clothed him in stereotypical paedophile garb. 

I can't quite remember how, but one of my friends got invited to the club and asked me to go with him. It wasn't for him and he only lasted a couple of weeks. I however persevered. I wanted to impress my dad with my wrestling abilities and emulate the guys on the telly. It was held at a little hall in the Tilery area of Stockton on Tees and looked a little dingy but there were proper mats and there was a healthy uptake of boys up to the age of around 12-13 so it had to be legitimate. I have to admit that stuff like that didn't really feature in my mental precautions, but I have a feeling that it must've struck a chord with my parents and the parents of the other kids who regularly dropped their kids off at the hall every week.

So fast forward a little bit, I am getting exercise and learning something in the process as it turned out, it was very different to the display wrestling that I had been exposed to and there was a lot more rolling around in the floor. The guy that was branded a dirty man ran the club and did so quite well in my opinion, I was learning some competition wrestling and getting better weekly. We didn't go to any local or national competitions though and this began to trouble me. Why do it if there was no reward? 

Then came the yearly (apparently) inter club wrestling competition. This is the thing that I blocked out for so long. (Quick spoiler, there was no physical fiddling so don't be afraid to read on). The competition was held on a Saturday rather than on a regular training night. The weigh in was a little strange though. We all were required to wear the regulation suit when practicing, but at the weigh in, the chap insisted that we disrobe entirely to use the scales. The older boys were adamant that they were leaving their underpants on at least, but the younger boys all dutifully took their clothes and underpants off to be weighed with the chap kneeling down in front of us looking at the dial on the scales. Nothing felt wrong about this at the time and indeed I was chuckling about the older boys not wanting to take their pants off to get a more accurate reading on the scales. As it turned out, there was no-one else in my age-weight group to wrestle with so I automatically achieved a gold. I still have the little plastic plaque somewhere in the attic. After that, I kind of drifted away from the wrestling. If there was no competitive element to it then what was the point? I didn't have to do anything to get a gold so there was no challenge... After that, I started going to judo at a more prestigious and above board class at the sports centre in Thornaby when I hit senior school and consequently broke my arm at a competition meaning I would never compete again.

The point is that even though fiddling wasn't involved with me at least (no idea about with the other boys) and I can't remember the chaps name, so I can't research it. I'm not actually sure that I want to see if anything happened to the guy or the wrestling club just in case I find something I don't really want to.

There is a point to all of this. A person in a position of power abused his authority and even though I had been warned about him, it didn't even register that he was doing something wrong when he asked the boys to get naked to be weighed. He abused us without touching us, he took away our right to privacy, his authority was not questioned (except by the older boys and even then they acquiesced by disrobing to their pants). I wish I could confront the bastard now and ask why he did that. Likely as not, he's probably dead now as he was certainly getting on when I was that age. So, no closure on it. Just because he didn't touch or ask us to touch him, it doesn't mean that lives aren't ruined as a result. I think I got off pretty lightly and was only psychologically fucked up as a result. I might see if I can find the plaque to ritually burn it to placate my demons.

I had managed to block it all out until earlier this year, I am glad that I did remember as it could explain some of the problems that I had with male role models later in life. In fact, I am sure that it had soured my relationship with my dad.

He was the one that dropped me off every week and the person that I wanted to impress most by being like his Saturday afternoon heroes. 

No jokes in this one guys... This was purely getting it out of my head and onto digital paper. I seem to be doing this rather a lot recently. Is it a good thing? I certainly feel lighter for putting it here. 

Touching base.

What is it about events that you are too knackered to enjoy them at the time and afterwards, there is just a feeling of gut wrenching regrets for not enjoying it more.

This weekend I was down at MCM Comicon at the excel centre in London and it was absolutely bloody marvellous. I had a stall selling leather goods and if you follow Broadarrow Jack's posts on Facebook, I commented that I was genuinely humbled by the fact that with the amount of choice in a space as big as Excel, people actually wanted to buy my stuff. Everyone did well as far as I know. The talks were great and the exhibition just keeps growing year on year. I have to admit that during the event, I couldn't enjoy it as much as I wanted to due to the aforementioned fatigue. After the event (almost immediately after the doors had closed and the pack down had begun) I started to feel an almost overwhelming sense of loss that it was over and the vibrancy and life that was passing the steampunk collective throughout all three days was now irrevocably gone.

I think this is another one of those get it out of my head and onto paper/screen posts as I don't think I have a point here. There's no little trick to reducing the feeling of loss, the bank holiday Monday has helped a little as I have managed to catch up a little on some frivolous stuff like playing Assasin's creed. But there's a hollowness to today that wasn't there yesterday. I'm sure it's the same thing that people experience when they return from holiday, although I can't help thinking that the experience has been amplified by the depression and anxiety.

One small tip that I did find helping with me at least to cut down on anxiety whilst I was at the event was removing my shoes. When I am not wearing shoes, my brain switches to comfortable and relaxed mode. Maybe I need to wear shoes less...

So yeah... This is a brief touching base type of post today. 

Keep safe and keep going. 

Mark

It's been about a week since Whitby

Well it's been a week or so since I returned back from Whitby, how was it? It was OK. Made considerably better by the fact that I had a day to relax before setting up and the onslaught of customers etc. that was a great idea to be honest as I didn't have to be 'on' straight away. The selling itself wasn't brilliant, but it never is at the April goth weekend. It's mainly (for me at least) a proving ground for new stock lines. To test the market as it were.

Come home, I was in good spirits. However as week progressed the mood blackened and I felt increasingly under the dog as it were. A friend said that it could be something to do with mourning the loss of a weekend with friends, I'm inclined to agree, up to a point. 

There is always negativity from a small but vocal minority of goths at the 'incursion of non goths at their weekend'. Normally it's like water off a ducks back to me but this time, I took it very personally. I have absolutely no idea why that could have been but it happened.

I am not going to have a rant and a rave about what I think about those that will attack people of other persuasions openly in social media and then wave the S.O.P.H.I.E. banner with all their might when they feel they are being victimised. It's not worth it. It was interesting however to see that this made me  angry for my fellows, those that aren't that goth or that dress up in stuff they like to wear and come to a place to enjoy the weekend. I didn't go overboard with ridicule for the people that hate because that would be a little hypocritical but it did affect me.

To that end, I have been declining in mood all week and have now cancelled my attendance at an event that I should be having fun at. One of the third re-enactment events. They do give me something good to cling to, but then when we return from these weekends away, there is always someone that will have another go at us for having the wrong buttons or smiling and enjoying ourselves and informing the public in an entertaining manner rather than standing behind barbed wire and giving mini lectures. I knew that if I went this weekend, I would have to face the haters once again and take it in my stride again! Is it really worth it? I have dialled back the number of events that I am attending this year to see if the ones that I do attend make it worthwhile. At this point, Snowdon was great but there were notable absences from the ranks. This is the second event of the year and I am not feeling particularly positive about attending many others if I am goi to be feeling this way about it.

I know people say don't let it bother you but it does. If I am doing something, I want it to be as good as it can be. As entertaining as possible for the public as informative while still being engaging. Others do not roll that way and it pisses me off when they are vocal about it. 

The second reason for not attending this weekend was that I just couldn't face the public with a smile and a welcome in my heart. Friends are understanding about it to the point where they have rallied around and worked out a contingency plan in record time as I kind of pulled out at the last minute (I am eternally grateful to them for this). I am not proud of leaving people in the lurch, but likewise, I don't want to say yes I'll do it and then get there and have to spend the day in a tent hiding from the public. I realise that when I am in uniform, I am someone else although that only works up to a point.

I'm crap and I know it at the moment. I have commitments and should be honouring them. It's not like me to be like this and it is a little bewildering to be honest.

Not really a good sentence to end on, but I've sort of run out of steam on this one. People that know me, know that I get tongue tied in person but can be extremely verbose online. I think the tongue tiedness is creeping in here too.

Let's see what happens a few weeks hence...

Please feel free to disregard the following...

This post is not aimed at anyone at all, there is no ulterior motive for it other than I need to bellow at the sky for a little while.

I know it won't do any real good to do so, but I think my only real release comes in the pages of this blog. I can write it down and then it's the worlds problem what they do with it.

I've been suffering from Anxiety and depression for considerably over a year now, I've been taking pills for nearly a year and I still don't have any end in sight to it. I know that friends come off them and go back on them periodically. But I don't know if they are balancing me out. If they are, I really don't want to know what I would be like if I wasn't on them at the moment. Maybe my dosage needs addressing, I don't know. I have a telephone appointment booked with the doctor tomorrow and we can have a chat about it.

I've just had a row with Jeanette, my long suffering wife. I can't tell her how I am feeling because I don't know myself how I am feeling. My mum used to say that I needed putting in a sack and shaking? The best I can describe it is disconnected. I am disassociating with things and I know enough to know that is a very bad thing and certainly not a place I need to be at the moment.

Not that I would do anything silly at all I hasten to add. I am just not connecting with stuff in the way that I should be at the moment. I had a good weekend away at Whitby this last weekend, things were grand and now, I am sliding off the table onto the floor. 

I dunno what I wanted to say this evening. I just know that I have to say something. Even if it's just venting frustration at not knowing why I feel this way and the I can't articulate what it is that I'm feeling.

Not dark, not light, not here or there just in limbo a little without a handle to grip hold of. Set adrift amongst a sea of ambivalence.  

I don't want to take time off work again as it's a tenuous thread and the good will may just snap at some point. I just have to keep going, soldiering along keeping my head down and not causing waves where I would get noticed and singled out. It's a difficult thing to do in such a small department though.

Recently, I've been experiencing the familiar squirly stomach feeling when my fight or flight response kicks in, it hasn't actually kicked in as yet, but it's at the back of my mind and is a bit of a task to see it through. There was a department meeting today and I have to admit that I was getting anxious. The other thing is (which I might need to discuss with the doctor tomorrow) that I have been experiencing small flashes of what I can only describe as vertigo (I can only presume that's vertigo as I get dizzy and my brain kind of hiccups for a few seconds I've never suffered from vertigo in the past and I am normally as sure footed as a mountain goat but my balance has also been off for a little while. The episodes only last for a few seconds each but they are slightly disorienting and it does freak me a little when it happens.

The other thing that I am feeling a little low about is my weight. I've put on over 3 stone since giving up smoking and I am certainly feeling it. Jeanette asked me to go on a bike ride a little while ago to see a show at the local theatre and I have to admit that it nearly killed me! I know I shouldn't eat to excess when I am feeling this way, but it's damn difficult and I have zero willpower at the moment either.

So yeah, that's pretty much my fucked up life at the moment. If you've got to the end of this, you're either a true friend or so bored that you really do have nothing better to do. Either way, thanks for reading and I hope I have some good news soon. Maybe an increase in dosage may help, maybe not.

Counselling service? Why do I bother?

The title says it all really. I have been referred to the counselling service three times now. Each time I had the requisite 6 appointments. First counsellor was pretty good and helped a lot in the first stage of my depression and anxiety, second was a waste of space and decided to try and treat my insomnia as a cause rather than a symptom and the third was absolutely lovely. She helped me the most I feel. Even to the point of suggesting that I might be better with some further intensive therapy. This was consequently turned down because I'm not THAT anxious or depressed...

Let me just say that again, I was turned down because I wasn't at a certain pre-determined level. My treatment was stopped and I was expected to go and fend for myself. The third therapist gave me some tools to help me, but when the darkness started descending again, I didn't have anything to fall back on.

My problems are threefold and I normally downplay the paranoia aspect of my condition as it's not the most glamourous of things. Really feeling as though people are whispering about you and plotting behind your back to the point where all trust breaks down in friendships that have stood the test of time is not something that I like to talk about. The fact that you feel so worthless when you see others enjoying themselves is not a good thing for polite dinner conversation.

I have a theory that I know where this actually stems from... I was a precocious little brat as a child, the youngest of three brothers and there was one occasion that sticks in my memory for some reason.

My friends were having a party for some reason (I forget what it was for) and both of my brothers had been invited. They were my friends that were having the party and I had been left out. I wasn't going to take that lying down and went crying to my mum about it. She insisted that I be included in the party and I was duly accepted into the group. I was however ostracised by the group at the party and sat alone for the rest of it. At that point in my development, it was enough to be a part of the occasion even though I was not a part of the events unfolding around me. Now, I can look back on it and assess that, for whatever reason, they didn't want me in attendance and ai should have honoured that. I however ran to an authority figure demanding to be allowed access to something that I had been excluded from. Was it paranoia that I wasn't experience something that my friends were? I don't know as it was probably in the region of 35 years ago and only the bigger and more vivid elements stick in the memory. But that was the first time I can say that I felt the same sort of feeling that I am experiencing at the moment. That same isolation and self doubt.

I may have tools to help me now and be able to stand outside of myself dispassionately, but the ability to seriously do something about it is still lacking.

Which returns me back to my original point... The counselling service, do I play it straight and have to go through another round of 6 talking sessions ad nauseum? When will they see that borderline cases also might need further help? I suppose it's down to funding as with everything else. But it's not doing me any favours being in this constant limbo. 

Holiday this year necessary... A proper one this time, not a couple of stolen days away in the lakes. A full 2 weeks away from the crap and the politics and the clamouring of the students! Time to unwind, time to recharge and time to take stock!

Thanks to you guys Toby the way... For listening to my ranting and ravings. I hope that by layinmyself bare over the altar of the blogosphere, that some might see some similarities and hopefully get some help themselves rather than having to suffer with their problems... And for the rest, yes, I was a spoilt brat as a child and had robe the centre of attention, I would like to think that I've moved on since then. One of the reasons possibly why I am so socially awkward nowadays. But that's for another discussion at another time

I'm giving it a rest for once to provide a movie review. Be gentle, it's my first time!

Yes, you heard it correctly, I am giving my whining a rest for once and I'm going to talk about something that is very close to my heart.

Movies...

Well, not movies in general. One movie in particular.

A movie that I think is a John Carpenter masterpiece. 

Which one? You ask. The thing? Prince of darkness? Escape from New York? They Live?

None of those, although they are all very good in their own way. I am talking about a largely forgotten masterpiece. That of 'In the Mouth of Madness'.

 When I first saw this movie on its release, I was blown away by it as I had recently discovered Lovecraft and let's face it, it is a lovecraft story in everything other than name. At the time, I really didn't appreciate how intricate the plot was. I had recourse to discuss it a few weeks ago and realise that it was now available on region free DVD through Amazon.co.uk 

I bought it without hesitation hoping that it hadn't dated as badly as some of Carpenter's other movies have. I was not to be disappointed. It was every bit as good as I was expecting and with the added bonus of actually understanding some of the plot intricacies as well as some of the homages that were deliberately placed in there as deliberate hat tips towards Lovecraft and his writing.

It largely concerns the exploits of an insurance investigator who is sent to find a missing writer by the publisher that handles him. Sutter Cane out sells Stephen King two to one (according to the script) and has an army of loyal fans. His new book does strange things to the reader. The cast is delightfully strange and the main character is played by Sam Neill whose horror credentials are well established  and this movie probably secured his starring in Event Horizon. Jürgen Prochnow supports as the dark and enigmatic Sutter Cane. The supporting cast is actually quite incredible with David Warner and Charlton Heston to name but two. 

It is quite slow to get going, but if you are familiar with Lovecraft, you will be familiar with his penchant for painting idyllic pictures with only one or two small clues as to the horrors that will duly unfold. The film does start to unwind at quite a pace once the protagonists arrive in Hobb's End. There are the requisite amount of unspeakable monstrosities hiding just out of shot and the whole thing comes to a head with a really clever concept.

I won't spoil the finale for you, but the ending will have you scratching your head the first time you watch it, the second, there will be a dawning realisation of what you are watching.

I would personally give it an 8 out of 10 for originality and just general weirdness.

If you ever get the chance, watch it. Persevere with it you won't be disappointed