Shit, fans and their interaction.

Shit, fans and their interactions. 

Sometimes words don’t come easy...as a song i believe once said. I find increasingly that they do not. But i will do my best. 

This has been a difficult year so far...health revelations and subsequent follow through (or not)...my fathers fall and subsequent fall-out from it for both him and myself...the underlying struggle that the business has become this past few years in particular. All in the mix and all with their own particular level of difficulty on the mental front. I find i’ve become increasingly self contained and routine based...I move from day to day and week to week with a mixture of dread, resolve, fretfulness and almost a sense of detachment. It’s like you know there is a big cliff there in the immediate distance but somehow you keep walking towards it in the hope that either it will not be a cliff or you can walk on air. But there seems to be no other course. I am locked into the trajectory and that is that. There is no change i can make...or change i can face more to the point....that will make any difference to the end result. Or perhaps it is that it is easier to stay on the path to this particular cliff than to change to a different one with a different yawning chasm at the end of it. That doesn’t really get to the heart of it but it’s as good as I can manage. At times in my head it’s like i’m wading through treacle and juggling things I dare only glimpse at in prospect...if I linger too long i may unravel. Perhaps i am depressed ...whatever that means. More likely it is just plain old anxiety taking its toll on the synapses. I find that the old anger is creeping back...the sort that is always simmering away and periodically bubbles to the surface in all sorts of ways and in all sorts of directions. I feel trapped. Well I am trapped so it’s only logical i’d feel it. If I look ahead I  see only trouble on all fronts...mainly financial...so I don’t look ahead. Which is not really all that sensible but it is the only way I can manage my feelings. It is the only way I can cope. At times i glimpse the various scenarios re my dad...the shop...myself...and i can feel the rising panic in my chest...I can almost taste it. Mostly about four in the morning when the defences are brittle and the mind is on overdrive. At those times I simply shut it off...I lose myself to fantasy or to some reverie...or just to nothing at all. I descend into blankness. Otherwise i might break apart. Whatever it is that binds my sanity (or what passes for it these days) together may finally loose itself and parts of me will scatter to the far reaches of the abyss. They say if you stare into that you may see yourself looking back. Well I’d  settle for that. At least it would be someone i’d recognize. Small mercies are the best.