Depression is a weird beast isn’t it? That little tug in the pit of the stomach. Nothing interests you. Food doesn’t taste nice any more. Pain that bad you fancy a nap even if you don’t want one. Wolves win an important match and you go through the motions with everybody else but inside…well you’re dying, and you don’t want to tell anybody. You don’t tell anyone because you are a bloke. You probably have the tattoos and the muscles, the big friendship group, you’re popular, but inside, that familiar nagging depression smoulders away and you can’t wait to get somewhere alone where you can half deal with it. It’s shit being a bloke because we can’t share our mad shit with mates. We can’t share it because we are ‘programmed’ to hold it all in and just fucking deal with it. Well that doesn’t work any more. It’s time for new ideas, it’s time for talking, it’s time we took the power back and utilise the people around us to help us define what the fuck is going on.
Depression is weird…I choose that word carefully because in essence depression is just worrying about yourself or the people you love. Depression is trying to understand something as complex as say all the people packed out in Molineux by looking at lists of their phone numbers. Abstract and fucking impossible. But we try don’t we? We sit down with the curtains half closed and roll around in the mind all the bullshit and the variable until we become a gibbering wreck and the only wait out is to think about putting a stop to it all together in the most destructive of ways. But we are complex creatures. Mind and mental health issues are the prime cause of an early death in young men. It destroys me. My heart bleeds that often there isn’t any body to talk to, to chat with, to pour out the fucking madness that we have inside of us. We are complex machines and often the ‘magic pill’ we get from the Doctors is like using a mallet to repair a watch.
My friends and Co-Supporters of Wolves have got together and done something about this and have boshed together a website and a hashtag…
It’s time we actually start to reach out to each other in times of need. It’s time (in effect)we start to support each other too. We are a social animal and in todays insane world it’s time we took back the power and started to sort our own lives out by actually speaking about what worries and aggravations we have in our lives. This blog always expounds on Nunos ‘ideas’ and to be honest it’s time we started finding out what other ideas are out there especially when it comes to mental health. This is about empowering ourselves through our own shared experiences in a world where we are increasingly alienated by abstract memes and constructs of society. But we don’t have to take it you know. We don’t have to sit in half dark rooms nurturing our pain. We must get ourselves out of that chair and reinvent what we are, and we do that by talking with others. Listening to their experiences and tactics with dealing with it. I do it all the time. I talk to everybody and I don’t care what race, creed, colour or sex they describe themselves as. I reach out all the time, to strangers, to the old fart nobody talks to, the crackheads and the heroin addicts, the thieves and the destitute. I know multi millionaires, people with bank accounts that big they don’t know what being hard up is. But they share the same things inside of course. That confusion about the world and our place within it.
You see, we aren’t alone. We aren’t ‘special’, we aren’t suffering by ourselves. Now is the time to talk and to share, to reach out and let others take a little of the burden we all carry. I’m on Twitter. It’s the best place to find me if I’m connected. I’m probably not the best qualified to help but I can listen to what you have to say and by listening I can take some of that burden off you for a while I hope. Let you know that you aren’t alone. So follow me @petalengro or click on that link above. Let’s fucking talk man.