What Am I?

What am I to you, or who,
Am i supposed to be?
When you ask me if I'm working, 
Are you asking if I'm free?

Are you asking for my company,
Or for what i can do for you,
In a professional capacity?
I just don't know what to do.

Existential Dread and Crumpets: My Guide to Sunday Brunch

Ah, the Sunday brunch. A time-honoured British tradition, a refuge from the relentless march of the week, and, let’s be honest, a potential minefield of existential dread.

We’ve all been there. You wake up late, the remnants of Saturday night’s revelry clinging to you like a cheap suit. The newspaper headlines scream of impending doom, and the bottomless pit of your empty stomach seems to echo the vast emptiness of existence.

But fear not, fellow traveller on this absurd journey called life! For within the humble embrace of the Sunday brunch lies the potential for solace, sustenance, and even a flicker of joy.

Step One: The Ritual of Tea
First things first, tea. A steaming mug of builder’s brew, strong enough to knock the existential cobwebs off your brain, is the cornerstone of any good Sunday brunch.

Steep your preferred leaves (Yorkshire Tea, for the purists) in a proper pot – none of those flimsy teabag contraptions here – and pour yourself a generous cup. Inhale the robust aroma, feel the warmth seep into your hands, and allow the gentle act of brewing to become a mini-meditation, a moment of quiet contemplation before the glorious chaos that is brunch.

Step Two: The Crumpet Conundrum
Now, the crumpet. This seemingly simple baked good is, in fact, a philosophical paradox. To toast or not to toast? That is the question. A golden, toasted crumpet offers a satisfying crunch and holds its shape admirably under the weight of your chosen toppings. But a fresh, untoasted crumpet possesses a delightful, almost doughy, texture that perfectly soaks up butter and jam.

The choice, dear reader, is yours. But choose wisely, for in this seemingly trivial decision lies a metaphor for life itself – the comfort of the familiar versus the thrill of the unknown.

Step Three: The Full English Breakfast – A Toast to Tradition
The Full English Breakfast: a veritable feast fit for a king (or, more realistically, someone who slightly overindulged the night before).

Sausage, bacon, eggs (done to your liking, of course), baked beans, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, black pudding (for the adventurous), and a hash brown (because why not?) piled high on a warm plate. This dish is a celebration of British culinary tradition, a hearty reminder that even in the face of existential angst, there is still pleasure to be found in the simple act of consuming a good fry-up.

Step Four: The Continental Cousin
But perhaps the Full English isn’t your cup of tea (or, more accurately, mug of tea). Fear not, for the world of brunch is vast and varied.

Perhaps you fancy a lighter option, a croissant or pain au chocolat, flaky and buttery, begging to be dipped into coffee or hot chocolate. Or maybe you’re feeling a touch more adventurous, seeking a taste of the exotic with huevos rancheros or a stack of fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

The beauty of brunch lies in its infinite possibilities. It is a canvas upon which you can paint your own culinary masterpiece, a reflection of your own unique personality and preferences.

Step Five: The Art of Conversation (and Avoiding Existential Dread)
Finally, no brunch is complete without good conversation. Engage with your fellow brunchers, be they friends, family, or even strangers at the next table. Discuss the latest episode of your favourite show, reminisce about the good old days, or simply revel in the shared experience of breaking bread (or crumpets) together. By focusing on the present moment, on the company you keep, and on the simple pleasure of good food and good company, you may just find that the existential dread melts away, replaced by a warm sense of connection and belonging.

So, there you have it. My guide to navigating the existential minefield that is Sunday brunch. Remember, it’s not just about the food (although the food is important). It’s about the ritual, the connection, and the small moments of joy that make life worth living, even when the universe seems intent on reminding you of its vast indifference.

Now, go forth, conquer your brunch, and face the coming week with a renewed sense of purpose (and a full stomach).

A Willy By Any Other Name

In youthful whimsy, I once had a plan,
To christen my own private, nameless man.
“Dick,” it would be, a name so discreet,
A secret whispered, never complete.

But fate, it seems, had other designs,
No grand pronouncement, no clever declines.
The years rolled onward, a memory faint,
Leaving only a blank, a forgotten paint.

Then came the moment, awkward and strange,
A need for a name, to shift and arrange.
“Mr. Thingumibob,” I stammered and blushed,
A silly moniker, my folly uncrushed.

So let this serve as a lesson, my friend,
Nicknames are fickle, they come to an end.
Embrace what it is, no need for charades,
Just accept its existence, unafraid.

“Come along now, Mr Thingumibob”

Lesson learned.

Adulting: Is it Just the Imposter Syndrome Manifest?

Ah, “adulting.” The term itself conjures an image of crisp shirts, packed lunches, and unwavering responsibility. But for many, the reality feels more like a bumbling performance in a play we never auditioned for. The bills pile up, the washing machine throws tantrums, and the existential dread of “am I doing this right?” hangs heavy in the air.

This pervasive feeling of inadequacy, this constant questioning of whether we’re truly “adulting” enough, has a close resemblance to something psychologists call “imposter syndrome.” Defined as a collection of beliefs that one’s success is due to luck or external factors rather than their own competence, imposter syndrome can manifest in various areas of life, including the seemingly straightforward realm of adulthood.

So, are we all simply a bunch of adulting imposters?

The answer, like most things in life, isn’t so black and white. While the challenges and uncertainties of adulting can certainly trigger feelings of inadequacy, it’s important to remember that imposter syndrome is a specific psychological phenomenon.

Here’s where the distinction lies. Adulting inherently involves navigating unfamiliar territory. We learn to manage finances, juggle work and personal commitments, and make independent decisions – all while still figuring out who we are and what we want in life. It’s natural to feel overwhelmed, unsure, and occasionally like we’re just winging it.

However, when these feelings become pervasive and paralyzing, leading to self-sabotage and a constant fear of being exposed as a fraud, it might be a sign of imposter syndrome.

So, how do we differentiate between normal “adulting jitters” and true imposter syndrome? Here are some key indicators:

Attribution of success

Do you attribute your achievements to external factors like luck or being in the right place at the right time, rather than your own skills and hard work?

Fear of exposure

Do you live in constant fear of being “found out” as someone who doesn’t actually deserve their successes or responsibilities?

Self-deprecating comparisons

Do you constantly compare yourself to others, feeling inferior and inadequate despite evidence to the contrary?

If these points resonate deeply, it’s crucial to seek assistance. Talking to a therapist or counselor can help you challenge these negative thought patterns and develop coping mechanisms to navigate the uncertainties of adulting with greater confidence.

Ultimately, “adulting” is not a performance with a set script or a clear-cut ending. It’s a continuous learning process, messy and unpredictable at times. Embracing the journey, acknowledging our vulnerabilities, and celebrating our successes, big and small, are key to navigating this often-daunting phase with a sense of self-compassion and, dare we say, adulting-worthy resilience.

Not Really Dead, Only Inside

“Cheer up, it might not happen!”

For a people person, it has surprised me how much I have lost my tolerance for the world recently, or less generally, the people in it. Or, to be really specific, the people that I categorise as my friends.

And don’t get me started on my family.

You deserve a better explanation, so here it is. And in true Dave style I shall ramble, beat about the bush, probably rant a bit, and hopefully make you grin on the way.

The reports of my death, etc.

Please allow me to take you on a short journey through my slightly damaged psyche.

I don’t know whether it is my age, or the state of my mental health, or maybe even because of both, but I have become more aware over the last few years, that one of my major triggers is the idea that my persistence in people’s minds is directly influenced by how necessary I am to their needs. Or more specifically:

Do you ever wonder how long it would take for people to notice that you were gone? Have you ever suddenly thought about somebody you haven’t thought about for a long time, only to discover that they died years ago?

Ironically, with it being this time of year, I watched It’s a Wonderful Life last week, which deals with this very idea: “What difference have I made in this world?”

Before I get to the point I’m trying to make, there is one more tale to share with you. A few months ago I was taking a shower and my phone rang. I jumped out of the shower to answer the phone only to find it was some random “friend” I hadn’t heard from for a long time, just asking me if I was driving my taxi, presumably because they were unable to get one as quickly as they would have liked.

Still covered in soap and slightly annoyed, I stepped back into the bath to continue my shower in peace. My left foot went one way and my right foot went the other, causing me to slide forward, head first into the bath, banging my head on the wall. A millisecond after the stars subsided from my vision I started to laugh, mainly because of the amusing image that was in my head. As I was hanging out of the bath arse first, I was wondering how funny it would have been (in a terrible way of course) to have been found like this – that this was, ultimately, the form of my demise.

You see, the final thing that I would really like to happen to me, is a funny death. I want people to talk about my passing and be unable to stop themselves from laughing at the method of my destruction. I remember watching a celebrity being interviewed once on TV, and if I remember correctly, they wanted to be crushed by “a giant letter O from the Hollywood sign.” They weren’t specific about which of the three Os it would be. Any would do, I suppose.

So here I am, face down, arse up in my bath, laughing to myself about being found like this after a few days, and then it struck me. How long would it actually be until I was found? How long would it take to be missed? Could I get the person that rang my phone to serve time for my manslaughter? The irony of my demise being caused by being eventually needed for something other than my sparkling personality is not lost on me.

I think all we ever really want to do is persist. It is said that when we pass, we remain (or some version of us) in the minds of the people we leave behind. And while that gives us comfort when we need it, it’s not really true is it? We live on in the neurons of maybe the few thousand people that we have interacted with, but once those people have turned to dust, where do we go then?

You see, these are the sort of thoughts that keep me awake.

• People only think about you if you can help them solve a problem
• You will only be missed if people need you for something.

I think where I am going with this, is that I’ve got this enormous sense of isolation, but I don’t really mind as much as I used to. I am at peace with it.

My Facebook account got hacked for the first time over the weekend. It was during a taxi journey in the middle of the night while I had passengers in the car. I started to get strange notifications on my phone, so I knew what was going on. By the time I dropped my passengers off, the damage had been done, I could no longer get into my account, and shortly after that the perpetrators had also used my account to get it completely disabled for doing whatever those scumbags do.

So when my Facebook account got disabled, I saw the potential for an interesting social experiment – to see how long it would take for anyone to notice, and how many, if any?

The results of this experiment surprised me.

It took around eight hours to be missed online, by a grand total of 2 people. It is over two days later now, and this total has not increased at all.

It’s a bittersweet statistic. On the one hand, I was missed fairly quickly, but on the other, only by two people. And neither of them needed a taxi.

At the time of writing I am still undecided as to whether I am going to attempt to recover my Facebook account. You see, a fair few use Messenger to contact me when they can’t get a taxi.

After my “bathmageddon” incident, my phone is pretty much permanently on Do Not Disturb. In my free time I am almost never contacted unless I am needed for something other than myself. Honestly it’s been quite liberating. Every so often I’ll look at my phone and see a few missed calls and messages, which I can contemptuously snort at, at my leisure, when I’ve got a few moments to spare.

Ten Haikus About Cheerfulness

A lightness of heart,
A world of endless wonder,
Joy in every breath.

A soul that's at peace,
A mind that's free from worry,
Contentment within.

A heart that's open,
Filled with love and gratitude,
Blessed in every way.

A life full of hope,
A future that's bright and clear,
Dreams that can come true.

A heart that's joyful,
Filled with laughter and with love,
A life that's well-lived.

A mind that's at ease,
Free from stress and anxiety,
Calmness all around.

A spirit that soars,
Unfettered by doubt or fear,
A life without bounds.

A heart that's grateful,
For all the blessings in life,
Thankful every day.

A soul that's fulfilled,
Living a life of purpose,
Making a difference.

A world full of light,
A life that's full of promise,
A future that's bright.

Ten Haikus About Depression

Heavy heart sinking,
Shrouded in a veil of grey,
No light in my soul.

Emptiness inside,
A void that cannot be filled,
Alone in the dark.

Storm clouds overhead,
Raindrops fall like tears of pain,
A world without hope.

A weight upon me,
Dragging me down to despair,
No escape in sight.

Lost in a dark maze,
No way out, no guiding light,
Trapped in my own mind.

A bottomless pit,
Suffocating in the void,
A life without joy.

A prisoner of thought,
Trapped in my own mind's prison,
Freedom out of reach.

Numbness in my soul,
All emotions washed away,
Nothing left to feel

A deep, endless ache,
A pain that never subsides,
A life in shadow.

A heavy burden,
Crushing me beneath its weight,
A life without light.

Improving Mental Health

Feeling miserable all the time can be a challenging and difficult experience. Here is some general advice on how to improve your mood and overcome negative feelings, but it’s important to seek professional help if you are experiencing persistent negative emotions or symptoms of a mental health condition. Here are some tips that may help.

Practice self-care

Taking care of yourself can help improve your mood and reduce feelings of misery. This includes getting enough sleep, eating a healthy and balanced diet, exercising regularly, and taking time for relaxation and self-reflection.

Connect with others

Social connection is important for our emotional wellbeing. Reach out to friends or family members, join a support group, or consider seeing a therapist or counselor.

Engage in activities you enjoy

Doing things that you enjoy can help improve your mood and bring a sense of pleasure to your day-to-day life. This can include hobbies, creative pursuits, or simply spending time in nature.

Practice mindfulness and gratitude

Mindfulness practices, such as meditation or deep breathing, can help reduce stress and anxiety. Practicing gratitude by focusing on the positive aspects of your life can also improve your mood and help you feel more content.

Seek professional help

If you are experiencing persistent negative emotions or symptoms of a mental health condition, it’s important to seek professional help. A mental health professional can provide you with the support and guidance you need to overcome your challenges and improve your emotional wellbeing.

Conclusion

Everyone’s journey is different, and what works for one person may not work for another. It’s important to be patient with yourself, stay positive, and continue to seek out the help and support that you need.

I think I’m back?

Well it has certainly been a few years, hasn’t it?

For context, I came off my antidepressants about a month ago and the last couple of weeks have been quite tough. Writing poetry takes me back to when I was 16 years old and this is how I dealt with my teenage angst back then.

I’ll make no apologies for the freeform nature of some of my poems. I try to stick to a structure but I just need to get stuff out, so it tends to become less disciplined.

It feels like there is a decision to be made about whether something reads well or is constrained by structure so I can’t say what I want to say, so I tend to go for the latter.

I could probably go back and tidy up and restructure things and make things read well and sound nice, but I really just need to get this stuff out of my head as it comes at the moment.

So this is part blog, part poetry, part coming off my meds journal.

Grieving? Or Just Feeling?

I sang a song
And set it off
I thought of mum
While singing "Oh Father"

Am I broken?
Am I fixed?
I can't say 
My mask falls

The mask has gone
Give me a moment 

I'll let the tears flow
I just don't know
Why they come
And will they stop?

I think of my mum
Such wasted years
Unable to grieve
Now I hope I can stop

But it feels good
To feel again

I wouldn't mind 
Some good feelings
To look forward to
Thank you very much

I've got back my black
But no colours yet

Does there need to be a focus
For the tears and the rage?
This is still better
Than feeling nothing at all