The Darkness Is A Wicked Place

A lot of people are shocked about Robin Williams taking his own life, but I can't say I am. To me, he always seemed to have this air of sadness about him, even when he was at his loudest and most entertaining. For some reason it always felt like a facade, like this was his role for us. All I wanted was for him to turn off the noise and get real. To drop the joking around and get serious for a minute.

His death is probably the realest he's ever been. 

Suicide is tragic. It's always so confusing for people. It's hard to understand how someone so successful and beloved could take their own life. Didn't he have friends? A wife? Family? Yeah, suicide is tragic but it's also not simple. Money and loved ones have nothing to do with it. A scary thought, isn't it? That no matter how rich, successful and loved you are, depression can still get the best of you. Yes, this man had money and people, a wife and kids, who loved him, but he also had a mental illness. 

And mental health is a tricky thing. We all have good and bad days, even those of us who aren't suffering from anxiety and depression. There are highs and lows for us all. Except, some of us can't reason our way out of the lows. Sometimes the lows are so low we can't fathom ever having a high again. The simple act of living another moment in this miserable world is unbearable, so we do something about it. We bow out. 

We all understand the darkness and have experienced at least a fragment of it.What we don't understand is how consuming it can be, how suffocating and daunting, the sinking feeling that it will never get better. For me, death has never been a solution to get out of the darkness, still I know those who have turned towards it for an answer. The thing about suicide is, it doesn't stop things from getting worse. In fact, it only eradicates the hope of it being better. Those people who dwell in the darkness sometimes forget that fact. 

The darkness is a wicked place. If allowed, it will seep in and cloud the senses, dismantling rational thinking and destroying common sense in its wake. When the darkness is at its thickest, you cannot see the good, there is no hope or bright side there. Just an abyss of pain and fear and worry. If we're lucky, light is filtered in through people and things we love. In a room of pitch black, the flicker of a match can be enough to guide us to the other side. Sometimes no light arrives, though. Sometimes the darkness wins.

What I find most tragic is the joy we experience from these people who are trapped in the darkness. Despite the laughter and love they spread, they are broken and lost. Unhappy. Unhealthy. It burdens my heart to see someone exit the stage before their time. To decide they don't want to live here anymore. Live with us. Those are selfish thoughts, for sure, because this isn't about me, or us. It's about the darkness of depression, how heavy it is, how difficult it is to get out from under. 

I am saddened to hear Robin Williams didn't find his way out of the darkness. His demons were only compounded by his addictions, both of which he failed to fully escape, even in death they are haunting him. It's heartbreaking to think he never experienced the same joy he gave to others so freely. I only hope he has found peace wherever he is now.   

Mental illness is an unpredictable beast. The journey is long and hard, repetitious, but if you're lucky you will find the light to pull you through, and keep finding it every time you get lost in the darkness. And I will keep holding a match for you, on the off chance you are looking for my light. 

Hot Off The Presses

The virtual presses, I suppose. For those of you who don't know, I am part of Pankhearst, an independent writers collective who have been working tirelessly to deliver quality writing that will leave readers saying "Yes, this is exactly what I have been missing in my life." Some of you might remember a little book called Cars & Girls, or not. If you do and you liked my story Roadrunner, then you might be interested to learn I have now had a single published called Mini. It is available for purchase at a very reasonable price and you can find it here.

Like my previous Cars & Girls short, these two stories both have swear words and some sexy stuff in them, and they actually have mention of suicide as well. If you are squeamish or cringe easily at the mention of misery, there is an option to simply purchase the single and not actually read them. That being said, you might actually enjoy them, even if they make you a tad uncomfortable. These two shorts are a bit on the dark side. They feature women, cars, love, lust and a bit of melancholy for balance.

The tracks on my single are as follows. Side A is called Thunderbird and revenge on a cold night is a pivotal plot point. A small town rocked by fear is waiting for the ghost of Amelia Banes to take her next victim. Side B is a tale of the most beautiful suicide and the complexity that often accompanies life.

If you do pick this gem up, please let me know. All feedback is genuinely appreciated. If you like them, or even if you don't, feel free to share them with friends, or even enemies. Because I am a generous lady, here is a random snippet from Thunderbird:

Wordy Wednesday

It's only the second installment of Wordy Wednesday but I am already in love. 

This one is a treasure for me. If I didn't have to work, I would stay up all night and sleep the mornings and early afternoons away. There's something exquisite about the darkness of night. 

And So It Begins ... Again

Last night, I couldn't sleep. At four, I was wide awake, but knowing I had to work, I hung out in bed. Hoping to drift in and out, so not to be a zombie while interacting with the public. From what I hear, no one like chatting with a drooling, lurching, unkempt woman with dark circles under her eyes.

In order to take my mind off what was keeping me awake, I started thinking about these ideas I have for books. There are these two I've been mulling over in my head for a couple months. One of them actually has been simmering in my brain stew for close to two years. Crazy, right? 

So, anyhow, last night at half past four, I came up with the first line to the one I've been thinking about the longest. Now, I was going to share it here, but I suddenly got all weird about putting it out into the world. As if someone is going to steal the first line to the book I have only penned a thousand words of. Sometimes I'm so silly. Besides, what's the chances the first line will even stay the same. Unlikely, right? I mean, none of my books have the same first lines they originally had! And yet, I'm still here waffling. 

Moving right along.  

Here's the thing - it's a vampire novel. Yes, vampires. You don't have to say it. I already know what you're thinking. I am thinking it too. There's this feeling at the nape of my neck and it makes me feel as if I'm wasting my time. Vampires are overdone, right? Vampire Diaries, True Blood, Vampire Diaries, Vampire Academy, Anne Rice's books, Bloodlines, Marked and it goes on and on. Still, there's this little, tiny, mouse-like voice that is saying this will be different. My humblest opinion - the idea is rather ingenious. Not to pat my own back or anything, but there will be blood and darkness and true vampire lore. 

So, I started writing it. Mostly because I had a first line, but also because my early morning pondering finally made it clear where the beginning is. Honestly, I don't know what this is going to turn into - what with not plotting - and that excites me. I think this will be another 'for me' book, much like my pirate novel The Reign of Billie Blackwater. This will be something I write just for myself with the hopes someone else will see the beauty in the darkness. 

And so it begins ... again. 

If you are a writer, how long do you mull an idea before beginning? Do you wait for a certain point to start? Are you a plotter? And if you are a reader, do you like reading about people who are writing and their creative processes? 

Social Rules? Fuck them.

Yesterday, I stumbled across a post in my feed from a girl I absolutely adore. The gist of her update was that due to 'social rules' she was withholding her feelings and instead posting a video of moose noises. The social rule in this instance was not burdening others with negativity or unhappiness. Apparently, if you put too many downtrodden posts out into the cyber world people get annoyed.

Of course, in my true fashion, I replied with, "Social rules? Fuck them."

And it wasn't just a passing comment, nor something witty or humorous said to garner chuckles. It wasn't a flippant remark. It wasn't said without feeling or thought. 

I genuinely think most social rules should be ignored. Not because I'm a rebel. Not because I like to stir the pot. But because I don't like the idea of people censoring themselves. I don't think it is healthy to slap a hand over your mouth and swallow your emotions, especially if it is only not to piss off the wrong people. I say wrong people because the right ones will never be annoyed by you. The right ones will always care. They will always love and protect and give you a safe place to fall apart and pull yourself together.

It is counterproductive to one's health and well being to stifle thoughts, cares, concerns and feelings. This world is tough. People are hard. The badness can weigh you down, make it seem as if it is impossible to stand and walk and exist. Life is difficult. It isn't easy. And sometimes we get lost. We can't find our way. We stumble through the darkness, waiting for the light, just a flicker to pull us through. Realistically, most of us can't do it alone. We need other people in order to make it out okay. To survive the blackness.

I am grateful for those who have shone their light on me. And I only hope there are others who are grateful that I have held up a flame for them. 

Why have they done this for me? Why will I do it for you?

Because we are all connected. We are one. Me and you. We exist here. Together.

And if we can't turn to our friends and family, if we can't speak our minds, in person or on the intersnacks to the ones we care about, the ones who are supposed to give a damn, then what good is socializing anyhow? Not being honest with our feelings, not being truthful to the ones we let into our hearts is utter bologna. This isn't a tea party. We aren't ladies. And we don't lift our pinkies when we drink tea. Well, some of us don't. Some of us have to because it's ingrained in us and an impossible habit to break. But what I am saying is we aren't debutantes. We aren't playing bridge and talking about the weather, eating cucumber sandwiches and wearing floral hats. The days of hiding our secrets and inconvenient emotions in a box under our beds are over because it never made anything better. (This is the comedic relief)

Here is where there is no humour.

Depression is a real thing. More people are affected by it every day. Mental health issues. Suicide. These are things that exist in our lives, that we brush shoulders with, that some of us know far too well. Chances are, someone we love is suffering. Hurting. In pain. Struggling. It boggles my mind and befuddles my heart to consider the fact someone I adore could need help but is not speaking up, not asking for help, not venting because of some stupid social rule.

Fuck the weak of heart and uncaring. Fuck the ones who get annoyed by expression of emotion. Fuck anyone who doesn't want to hear it. Fuck those who are scared of the truth.

Because the alternative to speaking up and writing posts and talking about the pain and negativity and doubt and hurt and despair and uncertainty is bottling it up. Shoving it down. Ignoring it. Hiding. Running away. Recoiling. Shutting everyone out. Turning away. Leaving them to 'deal' with it on their own. For them to try to find their way through the darkness without a hand to hold or someone to talk to.

That's why I say fuck social rules. Let it out. Because keeping it in isn't helping anyone. And if anyone is truly bothered by how you are feeling or what you are thinking, then they can fuck right off too. They aren't worth the time or energy and clearly need to cultivate their empathy and understanding. Maybe a lesson in love will set them straight.

Perhaps it's because I've experienced the darkness that I understand if you don't let it out, you will never let it go.