Why I Haven’t Posted in a While / Love doesn’t cure everything….

Love doesn’t cure depression.

I’ve tried the application of Love as a band aid, as a plaster, a quick solution to paper over the cracks. It’s in the busy-ness of a weekend I have organised to silence the bells inside my own head and heart, under the pretence of a birthday, a reunion, a wedding, an anything at all. I came away from these with the knowledge not that I was loved, but that its exhausting to be happy and smile at people when inside you are screaming and breaking and struggling to breath. That when you look for love, you trust the wrong friends, friends who you have known you for years and seen you at your worst and best. They will be the ones who don’t tell you they have girlfriends, lovers, lives, that hand you their guilt and ask you to carry it for them, who don’t listen to what you are really asking them for. A sigh, a kiss, is really a scream, a notification that ‘I need help’, that a one night stand or a fling is not asking for a relationship but a pillar to hold onto in the middle of the night.

People don’t listen, people don’t see.

Nights are darker when you have your own personal rain-clouds. The stars don’t even light. And when a solid day has passed and all the people you hope to hear from don’t even text a funny joke, you cry and you cry and you cry, and you become thankful that the stars aren’t here to bear witness. Because they hold nights like this forever within them, and you will never see starlight in the same way, never see a field washed in silver without feeling metal between your fingers. Tasting medicine in the back of your throat. Remembering lessons hard learned – how to do it better, that if you swallow too much too quickly you will vomit it all out and sob, sob, sob, realising you failed even at this.

Depression is when the easiest way to stop the cycle is to fall asleep and disappear. To buy a ticket on a train that races behind the dawn, and ask for it to stop only when it reaches a city where the lights never come on. When you check the weather and think you could go outside and fall asleep and you wouldn’t even realise you never woke up. How easy it would be, how calm, how quiet. When you have to scrabble in the dirt for reasons not too, and it can be something simple that stops that forward rush. I cannot choose the right scarf, the right shoes, which beach to lie upon. And here I am again, sat behind my closed door and crying. I should be thankful. I never am.

Love is not a reason not to give into the pull in my stomach that urges me on to the cliff-top. Love is what put me here. The wrong man, wrong job, wrong city, wrong medicine, wrong medication, wrong genetic make-up, wrong hormone levels. Love only works when it is a two way thing. I have loved, so many people, so many things that never felt the same, never warmed to my particular traits. I have loved friends who walked away one day with no explanation. Friends who never rang me first. Friends who only ever came to me when I could offer them something they needed. Friends who weren’t friends. Family who never wanted me and didn’t try to hide it. Walking into a house and having nowhere to sleep at Christmas, being the one forever being made to sleep in a temporary bed in a temporary space – neon signs that said I didn’t belong here.

I sit here now and I know later, in a day, a week, an hour, I will try again to make this all stop in a most permanent fashion. God I hope it works.

I know no-one I know realises this blog exists, and so this is safe to post. If it is a goodbye or a cry for help, I don’t really know. It is something of the two.

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Pro-Life, Pro Choice? Neither, actually ….. Pro-Compassion.

Before you read, Fair Warning. This is an opinion piece on abortion. If you would rather not read, no offense is taken and I wish you a lovely day. If you do read – I reiterate. This is my opinion, not a statistical factual piece. Thank you.

Twitter does have a habit of throwing the most interesting arguments at me. For instance, the semantic kerfuffle over the is ‘every crime not simply a type of theft’ that eventually spilled over into real life. My take on it, that every crime is the  removal of a right or property and thus more than definitely theft led to me being told ‘my  god you sound like an Amnesty supporter  ‘.  That’s not a terrible epithet in all fairness, I am an avid letter writer and they get their palms crossed once a month, but still. The point I am trying to make is that there are many arguments and debates on the  ‘twitosphere’ (as I saw it called today and quite liked), that I would never partake in outside of that arena.  The reasons for this are manifold – discussing violent domestic abuse or the correct naming of the Higgs Bosun over a  pint at the pub soon leads to madness, if not all out mutiny. Also to my chagrin, my friends are ridiculously intelligent and opinionated. I don’t exactly run at empty on the debate scale but you try taking on a mixture of communists, feminists, writers.  journalists and crazy people and coming out on top about anything. Sitting back and observing with a nice whiskey is more my current metier.

However there are several  issues which I will not sit quietly by on. One of these is the designations used to describe peoples attitudes towards abortion and the often hyperbolic arguments they use to support their cases. Pro-Life and Pro-Choice are tags which used to be an American political tool to judge exactly how debates can be phrased and  won. However these titles are rapidly gaining prominence here, in the UK.  And I despise them and their inherent assumption that they are mutually exclusive. Being pro-abortion or pro-choice does not mean I am anti-life. In fact, I struggle with the term pro-abortion as it seems to imply I want them handed out like candy to teenagers who fucked up on a couple of WKD and made the wrong call. I am not advocating them as a contraceptive tool. But I do not think that they are wrong.  This does not make me anti-life, nor does it make me a murderer.

Pro-Choice means having a responsibility not only to yourself but to the zygote, organism, fetus or baby that you are carrying. This means being compassionate to a thing which isn’t even strictly speaking a person yet. It may still be a blobby little collection of cells with no life force, nothing of its own – and yet you must still show compassion. I believe that if you are unable to care for a baby fiscally, emotionally or environmentally you have a duty to consider whether it is the right thing for you to do. No, this doesn’t mean automatically carrying out the procedure. But if you are currently on the dole, struggling to feed yourself, or heat your home,  if this pregnancy is the result of a one night stand, then you have the choice. By all means if you can still offer many of the non material things like love, and a warm smile, the pure and simple want of a child then you may already know your decision. Many woman choose to bring children into the world despite these conditions or far, far worse, and they are amazing mothers. But I bet a fair few of them thought long and hard.

The woman who made me so angry today, implied that to make this choice would be tantamount to murder. That I should be on death row, waiting to ride the lightning. What pushed me over the edge and made me put this down on paper, is the fact that she refused to answer any of my retaliations. What, I ask about the mother who just found out she is 17 weeks gone as a result of rape? Should she be forced to live with the reminder every day for the rest of her life, watching her attackers DNA fuse with her own – or be given the choice to say no and actually save her own life? How about the fact that tragically woman are every day diagnosed all over the world with illnesses and disease whilst they are pregnant. Should a woman be made to feel guilty for choosing chemotherapy over a 8 week along pregnancy? The child would probably not survive. The woman might.

At its very basest level, I put to her, what about the fact that a animal when it suffers is offered the peace of an easy death. You wouldn’t keep your Labrador alive for months or years in pain and suffering every day, you would take her to the vet and say goodbye and do the right thing. Is that murder?  Why then, would you rather a child be born to a life in a household riddled with domestic abuse, drug use, or to a life that is just not ready for them yet? To parents that don’t want them? As products of affairs, one night stands or pubescent experimenting?

As for is it murder, then that brings up a whole bunch of problems. The real question here is when does life start? First heartbeat? First breath? First independent function? For nine months it is not an independent creation it is a part of you, relies on you for everything. This is a life of a kind, but not yet a person. Still a thing. I do not call this murder. I know someone somewhere will start digging out those images of an abortion by product or medical diagrams to show me just how violent the procedure is. But violence is not murder. Far more violent things are done to the human body in the name of prolonging life – open heart surgery or cracked ribs from CPR attempts to name a few. the idea of when a life starts is unique to each person, and each situation. I know people who named their child in the first 3 weeks of pregnancy. They already decided it was a life. I also know people who pushed it right to the limit as they were unaware. This would mean development had started. It is still, in my eyes, not murder.

I am not going to lie here and pretend I am knowledgeable about this subject. But what I know, and learnt the hard way, is that it is a choice that is never easy. In any way. It is heartbreaking and painful and traumatic and will stay with you for years. Sometimes, you regret not having the abortion when the end result is even worse.  The very last thing needed  is people like this woman, prepared to sit there and fling names and mud and make things even worse.

So to hell with Pro-Life and Pro-Choice. I am Pro-Sensitivity. Pro-Thoughtfulness. Pro-Compassion and awareness.  Anti-Politics and Anti-vindictiveness.